#it starts with him not being able to remember what artemis's nose was like

[byfulcrums]

I think your so on the money on ur thoughts on how would a “YJWally is JLU!Wally” would handle Clark is like the ultimate “oh no this authority figure who seemed unreachable is now a person who is my peer” feeling because yes, I totally agree with your assessment that the OG team would have mixed feelings on superman (pre season 2) and Wally would look at this Clark like hmm…but I think that’s what this idea is missing in the grand scheme of things seeing that shift for Wally internally, seeing him changing his thoughts on these people he used to know in another context become something different. Like I for one, would love to see a fic dedicated to Wally and the JL show league original seven building their bond that it almost makes him forget what the others were like we cannot forget that for instance, JLU superman really wanted to kill lex (and did in one universe) for seemingly killing Wally and Wally broke into tears when Clark showed up again after HE thought was to have died. He also told Clark to smile more sweetie and stop being an ass during the whole brainiac/Cadmus arc. The relationships between the JLU original seven make me so feral

What you said! Yes!!!

Tbh I personally think that the team is still somewhat bitter about Clark's relationship with Conner, including Wally. But bitter as in “Will make fun of you and mention it all the time to annoy you”, not “I'm actually angry about this”

Wally knows that Conner and Clark are in good terms now and while he's spent a lot of time shitting on Clark with the rest of the team because that's what friends do when they find out you have a complicated relationship with your parents, he still accepts it and is totally supportive of them

However, this doesn't mean that he won't be salty with Supes over it. The whole team is

And also yeah, I would pay to see Wally's view on the JL after the dimension travel

He first viewed them as heroes. So high and unreachable; he basically worshipped them, as any other little kid did

Then, he thought of them as celebrities. Famous people with money that can be assholes but can also be the kindest people in the world

And when he discovered Barry was the Flash, some of them even became family! But only some, because after forming the team, most of the members became his friends' parents or relatives

But then he ‘died’ and appeared in another whole universe where not only did the Justice League not even exist, both his uncle and him were dead and Hal, not having Barry, wasn't even living in earth anymore!

And that's when things start to get complicated. Because he takes his dad uncle's name, wears his suit and becomes him, in a way. He takes the name of Flash and starts going out to be a superhero because Central City needs a speedster there

So when he, along with the others, forms the Justice League... well. Things are awkward

He can no longer view them as his friends's relatives. He can't even think of them as heroes. Now, they're actual people to him. They aren't celebrities anymore, they're friends. He's watched them doubt themselves, cry, laugh, get angry just like how he did with his old team and he just can't not view them as people now

And I personally believe that he avoids thinking about it as much as he can, but when he's left alone with his thoughts he can't help but remember that he used to call some of them aunt and uncle and now he's calling them coworker or sister or brother or friend

And he tries to remember what the old versions of them he used to know were like only to find that he can't remember them. Like, can't remember them at all

Now, when he thinks of Green Lantern, he doesn't think of Uncle Hal anymore, he thinks of John Stewart. The versions of them he used to know were slowly replaced by his now coworkers and friends

He can't remember. And now he's worrying that he might forget his old family friends too

[artyandink]

the girl that kindness forgot | 4

I CAN’T CONTROL WHAT’S PASSED ME BY

Quote of the chapter: “UNO reverse.”

…

I opened the door to my dining room, spotting my relatives at the table. A wide grin split my face, sitting down next to Turstin, who ruffled my hair. 

“How was your sleep, dear?” My mother, Marianne, asked me from across the table. Every detail of hers was the same, from the little glint of happiness in her silver eyes, the quirky curve of her nose to the small dimple she had on her left cheek when she smiled. It was all the same. Her mother was always regarded as beautiful, with her long, silky black hair and large silver eyes, but she was also kind. Kinder than almost any human being I knew.

“I slept really well, Mum.” I replied while our butler, Alfred, served me my breakfast. “You have no idea.” 

“Then you’ll be able to train well with Turstin, eh?” My father, Alistair, added with a chuckle. His blue eyes glinted and his brown hair was brushed neatly, tinged with streaks of blonde. He was the CEO of SP3CTR, a well-respected man who was regarded as influential by many. He was serious in business, but at home he was the man that made me smile. Apart from Turstin. 

“Alistair!” Mum gasped. “She just woke up.” 

“I know, Marianne, I’m just joking. You know I believe in equal work and play.” He soothed. 

“Could I interest you in your usual, Miss Hernandez?” Alfred asked, holding a mug of my favourite coffee.

“Of course, Alfred, that would be lovely.” I thanked him before he left, turning back to my mum and dad, who were excited. 

“I’ve been hearing about this Anthony Lockwood boy from Turstin. Tell me, is he a keeper?” Mum pumped her eyebrows twice, smirking. I punched Turstin’s shoulder, gasping. 

“You didn’t.” 

“I did.” He teased. “Come on, I had to.” 

“You didn’t have to, and mum, dad, he’s no one. Just a co-student. Nothing really important.” 

“Is he hot?” Dad asked, pretending like he was stroking a non-existent beard. 

“He’s stubborn-“ 

“Hot?” 

“- kind -“ 

“Hot?” 

“- smart -“

”Hot?” We blinked at each other, until the whole table started laughing. 

“Yeah, he’s hot. Really hot. We just work together, it’s nothing spec-“ 

“ARTEMIS!” My mother gasped, dropping her glass and standing up. My father did too, fumbling for his rapier, and that’s when I realised.

A spirit was reflected in my cup, and it was holding Satan’s dagger to my throat.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸

I flew up to a sitting position, clutching my forehead. It was slightly damp, sweat beading at the top in delicate little teardrops. 

“Bloody hell…” I fumbled for my phone, checking it. 

5:56. 

I didn’t know what I just saw. It resembled the day Turstin and I lost our family to a ghost lock. I didn’t remember what exactly happened. I remembered the void-like eyes of whatever came that day, feeling weak and the next thing I knew, I was in DEPRAC on life support, told that I somehow survived the touch of a ghost and launched headfirst into managing SP3CTR a few weeks after. 

Even better? 

I almost died again in that few weeks timespan and the cause was blamed on me by none other than Anthony… John… Lockwood. 

I yanked on some black tracksuit bottoms, pulling on a tank top over it and tying my hair up, picking up my earphones and jogging lightly down the stairs to try and not wake George and Lucy up. 

But who do I meet on the landing? 

Anthony bloody Lockwood, fresh from a shower, shirtless and rubbing his hair with a towel. I’m telling y’all, there was one thing that was almost as hot as seeing me in my crop tops. 

Anthony Lockwood shirtless. 

Puberty really was on his side; he had toned muscles from training to be an agent, and he didn’t have any acne. The lines of his Adonis-style muscles were evidently visible, so I inwardly resisted- 

Snap out of it, Hernandez. 

Seems like he was having the same thoughts as I was, raking his eyes down my figure with a very well-disguised smirk. He rubbed his hair, masking it successfully and looking me up and down with a look that borderlines disgust. “What are you doing up so early?” 

“Going on my daily run. What are you doing up?” 

“Getting ready for a shower, who’s asking?” 

“Who’s asking on your end?” I retorted wittily. 

“I asked first.” He sneered, stepping forward in a manner meant to be threatening, but I didn’t budge. 

“Since when have I ever given a damn?” I jeered, stepping forward as well. Right by now, we were almost nose to nose, brown trying to throw blue off with equally piercing stares. “You should know better than anyone, Lockwood, that I have never given a damn about who’s first in line. Why stop now?” 

“You’re insufferable.” He spat, jaw set in that familiar way whenever he was furious about something. I loved it, making him angry. It always has that insatiable satisfaction.

“UNO reverse.” I pulled an UNO reverse card from my tracksuit bottoms pocket, holding it up triumphantly. What? I always had one handy in each of my articles of clothing which contain pockets. And if they didn’t have any pockets? 

I never had to worry about that situation. 

“It’s like you’re made to ruin my life. I can’t believe I even asked you to be here. What was I thinking?” He muttered as he tried to walk away, but stopped in his tracks when he heard me, turning around again.

“Because you need me to help you. And you may think that I’m ruining your life, Lockwood, but no.” I gave him a venomous stare, one so poisonous he showed fear for a second. “You ruined mine long ago. And you are so lucky that I haven’t come back for revenge, because I would tear your life apart bit by bit until you’re left in the mud, scrabbling around for even the tiniest case to keep you standing.” A grin split on my face, all my vengeance coming out in this one moment. “And you would beg me for mercy, but I wouldn’t give it to you. After all…” I lowered my voice a little, “I know you did this. I know this is your fault, and you should take the fall for it. Shame that people like you don’t own up to their own mistakes. Life would be so much easier if you did.” I put my earphones in, blasting music and jogging out the front door. As ‘River’ by Bishop Briggs pounded against my ears, I contemplated that day. The day everyone left me and everything fell apart. 

“YOU PUT OUR LIVES IN DANGER, AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO BLAME IT ON ME!” 

“I WOULDN’T FALSELY ACCUSE YOU! WHAT KIND OF PERSON DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?!” 

Clearly, I’d misjudged his character. I reflected back and hatred rose up inside me. How could I be so naive? So hopelessly ignorant, so ignorant that I missed the parts where he revealed his true colours. The moments where he showed his cards but I turned a blind eye. All because he meant so much to me. Anthony Lockwood only cared about himself, making him famous, splashing his name on the front page of the newspaper. It never was about his friends, was it? He hadto have the spotlight.

I still remembered how he was so kind, so helpful. Until he became the best alongside me and that became his whole personality. 

I didn’t even know where I was going, where my feet were taking me, until I stopped at the place my father was buried. He died shortly after being ghost locked, but my mother was still alive. I stared at his tombstone, a tear falling from my eye as I sank to my knees. 

HERE LIES ALISTAIR HERNANDEZ

FATHER, SON, BROTHER AND SAVIOUR 

“LIFE IS AN OBSTACLE, BUT HOW YOU OVERCOME IT IS UP TO YOU.”

He said that to me on the day I started cracking from the pressure of doing all my grades. From that day, I was never afraid to tackle a problem. It was advice I took to heart. 

“I’m so sorry, Dad.” I wept, tears falling thick and fast. A hand laid on my shoulder, warming it. 

“You don’t have to be. None of this is your fault.” I turned to see my father’s spirit beside me, and I swear my heart skipped a beat. 

“Dad?” 

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s me.” He hugged me, the warmth from his pure spirit radiating off him. 

“But h-how?” 

“You survived the Ghost Touch. It imbued you with powers that allow you to summon us from the spirit realm. The extent of your powers I’m still unaware of, but that doesn’t matter. You’re doing beautifully, and that’s all that matters.” His twinkly grin made me feel calmer, as if everything was going to be ok after all.

"What about Lockwood?"

"Admittedly, I'm quite angry at that boy, but give him time and he will come round to the truth. We all do eventually. I have to go, darling, and remember, we're always protecting you." He disappeared off, leaving me to kneel on the mud. 

I wanted my old life back, but I knew I could never have it.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸

"You were out for a while." Lockwood coughed when I came back. 

"Runs don't last for 30 seconds." I retorted, going upstairs.

”I’m aware of that!” I heard him yell in response, making me snort in disapproval. I changed into my next business outfit, pinning back my hair and swiping some blush across my cheek and applying some gloss to make a natural makeup look. I jogged downstairs to find Lockwood blinking at me in disapproval. 

“You take your sweet time.” 

“I only took 5 minutes.” 

“Exactly, too long.” 

“And you took 1 hour to get to my office.” I snapped, sitting down and taking breakfast. 

“She has you served, Lockwood.” George shrugged. 

“You stay out of it!” Lockwood growled, eyes aflame. 

“Ooh, he’s getting angry.” Lucy smirked, clearly enjoying it. However, our anger was punctured by a knock on the door. 

“I’ll get it.” Lockwood grumbled before opening the door. “Oh, it’s you. Come on in, then.” My head whipped around to see Turstin, taking his jacket off and hanging it carefully; it was manners we’d retained from living in a mansion. 

“Turstin!” I gasped, hugging him around his middle. Lucy and George stood up, accompanying me to the hall. 

“Turstin, you’ve grown up.” George grinned. 

“You’re… taller.” Lockwood sniffed. 

“Nice to meet you too.” Turstin nodded, letting go of me and inclining his head towards Lucy. “Who’s this lovely lady?” 

“Lucy.” She blushed, “Lucy Carlyle.” I raised an eyebrow as I saw Turstin wink at her, making her look like a tomato. Oh my, I know what’s happening here. You seventeen year old son of a gun- 

“Nice to meet you, Lucy Carlyle.” Turstin flirted, adding a little extra on her name. George pretended to vomit in the corner while Lockwood just generally looked disdainful. 

Nothing new, I see. 

“What are you doing here, Turstin?” Lockwood asked, looking the taller boy up and down. 

“Very hospitable, I see.” Turstin chuckled. “I was called here due to a disturbance that happened last night. Went by the name of Annabel Ward.”

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸

“Artemis!” I woke up suddenly, almost about to slap the person who did it, but found it was Lucy, who looked scared. I shook my head, sitting up. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Annabel Ward’s ghost is here, she almost touched me.” I snapped out of my laggy state, grabbing my rapier from the side of my bed and standing up, disregarding the fact that I went to bed in a sports bra and sleep shorts because the house was way too stuffy. 

“I thought we contained her source!” 

“I don’t think we did.” I shot out of bed, grabbing my spare flare holster from my bedside drawer and slinging it over my shoulders, tightening it.

“Alright, wake up Lockwood and George, I’ll locate Annabel.” We went our separate ways, me to Lucy’s bedroom and Lucy to Lockwood. I opened the door, finding the pale figure of Annabel. 

“Hey, Annabel. I’m Artemis, and I know you won’t be able to talk to me but-“ 

“I can talk to you.” She gasped, floating forward and morphing into that young woman. “I know your father. I met him. He told me how determined you are to help people.” 

“That’s right. I know you’ve been murdered, Annabel. I just need a name.” I stepped forward, my rapier in a standby position. 

“I’ve been warned not to say. He’s so terrifying, and his voice chilled me to my core. He forced us to do what he wants. I need your help, Artemis. I can’t do this alone.” Annabel sounded desperate, transparent tears forming in her eyes. 

“Of course, I’ll help you.” I smiled, nodding. But a flare was thrown across the room, hitting Annabel, and as I whipped around I found that Lockwood threw it. 

“What are you doing, Hernandez?! You’re face to face with a Type 2!” He tackled me as Annabel shrieked and dove for us, angered. “Lucy, if you have an idea what her source is, you need to tell us now!” 

“I’m starting to have an idea of what it is.” Lucy stammered, just as I dove out of the way. 

“We’re not under pressure or anything, take your sweet time.” George snivelled. Then something clicked in my head. I’d taken a look at Annabel before and after the silver net was put on it. One thing was there before and gone after. 

“The ring, Lucy, where is it?” I asked, chucking a flare nimbly. 

“I-It was in my hand when I was asleep, maybe it’s in the bed?” She fretted. “I don’t know!” 

“Alright boys, you hold her off, I’ll go with Lucy.” I pulled Lucy with me, searching her bed. 

“I’m so sorry, Artemis.” 

“No problem-“ I saw the ring, “Found it!” I reached in my pocket, finding a small necklace made of silver glass, an emergency container for small sources, and clamped it inside. 

“OH, BLOODY- thank god.”

I panted, turning to Lucy. She looked terrified, so I hugged her. “I talked to her, Luce. She needs our help and we’re the only ones who understood.” 

“We can’t do it alone.” 

“Exactly.” 

‘Sup?’ 

“Yeah, Turstin, can you drop by tomorrow?” 

‘What’s the problem?’ 

“I told you about Annabel Ward’s ghost, yes? Well, she came back just now. And we had a conversation. Don’t mention it to the boys when you get here, it’s just… we need to help her. She’s a victim of brutal murder.” 

‘Yeah, I get you. I’ll come after your run is over, yeah?’ 

“Cool.” I cut the call, turning to Lucy. “We’re not doing this alone.” 

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸

“This is it? Her source?” Turstin asked, examining the ring inside the silver box. 

“Yeah. We don’t know where it came from, but it has a significant meaning in her life, maybe a lover.” George shrugged.

”That seems about right, 5 stars to you, George.” 

“Why are we even letting him examine this?” Lockwood asked, annoyed. 

“Turstin is one of the best at SP3CTR, he’s had special training to examine this stuff.” 

“Why don’t we just get DEPRAC then?” He sulked. 

“DEPRAC is nothing next to SP3CTR. Only reasons why SP3CTR isn’t the leading company for agent control are 1: my father didn’t want SP3CTR to become a law enforcing company and 2: DEPRAC takes loans from SP3CTR instead of swapping the companies because of the fact that people don’t want things to change.” I smiled in a way that I knew would annoy Lockwood, looking back at Turstin. “Continue.” 

“We need someone to connect with this. Figure out what really happened.” Turstin looked at Lucy pointedly, sparking anxiety in Lockwood, who jumped in immediately. 

“No. It’s too dangerous.” He refused. 

“Do you have another option?” I retorted. 

“Yeah. You could do it.” 

“I mean, I could do it, I think I can.” Lucy shrugged. 

“No, let’s hear what Lockwood has to say.” I dismissed, glaring at him and standing up at the same time as he did. 

“If you’re so determined to do it, let’s see what you can do.” He walked closer to me, teeth gritted.

“You’ll be surprised.” I smirked, taking another step closer so we were nose to nose again.

“Highly unlikely.” 

“How about this?” Turstin piped up, eager to disperse the tension. “Lucy will try first and if she can’t connect to Annabel then we’ll move onto Artemis. We all good with that plan?” 

“Yeah, good. Very good.” George quickly agreed, Lucy nodding frantically. 

“Don’t talk to me like that again. You’re part of my company.” Lockwood murmured. 

“How many times do I have to tell you? I… don’t… work… for… you.” I shoved his chest, winking. Turstin flapped his shirt, breathing out harshly, while George and Lucy giggled loudly. 

“Alright, Lucy, are you ready?” Turstin handed her the ring, which she held in her fingers. Lucy closed her eyes, and a moment later, hissed and dropped the ring. 

“I-I had a connection for a moment but something pushed me out.” She stammered, so I put my hand out. 

“Let me try.” My fingers closed around the ring, and I instantly saw through Annabel’s eyes. I couldn’t recognise the man in front of me due to his face being blurred, but the rest of the room was clear. A sweet operatic song was playing in the background, my Annabel’s hand extending.

“There’s a song playing in the room.” I informed, eyebrows furrowing a little. 

“Dance with me.” 

“I’m not in the mood.” 

“She loves it.” I felt a smile break out on my face, But I focused more on the scene. 

“But it’s our song, come on.”

”It’s their song.” 

“Who’s they? Annabel and…” I held a finger up, silencing Lockwood. 

“She’s so happy.” I felt her joy, love and affection; it filled my veins and made my nerves tingle. I’d never felt emotion like it. “She loves him.” 

“Go on. I’ll watch.”

”If you insist.” My line of vision started moving, feeling so free. As if I was unchained. 

“She’s dancing to the song. He’s watching her.”

Suddenly, the mood changed. It was very swift, as if it was a blank slate in the middle of time. “Are you honest?” 

“My Lord…” 

“Have you told him where to go?” 

“No…”

“He wants her, but it’s just…” I could feel panic and pressure building up, looking into a vintage mirror on the wall and finding myself, dressed in a flowing black dress, the white streaks in my hair glowing. I even looked so innocent. It reminded me of the time I went on my first study date with Lockwood. God, I was so naive. 

“I said I’d give…” I felt a large impact on the side of my head, and for a split second, I saw that my hair was red. A gasp escaped from my mouth as I fell to the ground both in the memory and in real life, chairs scraping from around me.

”What is it?” I heard Lockwood beside me, another familiar stature my brother. 

“I did nothing…” 

“You’re lying to me.” 

“He’s- he’s angry.” I gasped, breathing heavily and desperately. I was drowning in a sea of grief, tears and pain. Annabel was treated cruelly in this one moment, and I felt everything she did. It was horrible. I felt alone. Isolated. No one there to hear my screams for help. 

“I swear. Let me go!” 

“Jealous.” 

“You’re lying.” 

“I swear, let me go.” 

“She’s afraid.” And so was I. 

“You know this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my love.” My hands clasped his, but we’re brutally thrown off. 

“Don’t call me your love! You toyed with what isn’t yours. You are mine, Annabel, and it isn’t your place to commit such atrocities!” 

“I’m yours, I admit, but please believe me, My Lord! You know me, I have been faithful to you only.” 

“Lies! You’re lying to me, Annabel!”

“I’m not.”

”It’s all right.” 

“I swear.” The line between memory and reality blurred together until I could see Lockwood in the man’s place, standing in front of me and genuinely looking concerned. I felt a small bit of hope. That somewhere he’d have it in him to forgive me. Right? I love him and he loves me. This will all be over soon. 

“He loves me.” I looked straight into his chocolate eyes, smiling hopefully. My love. “You love me, don’t you?” I held his arm lovingly, my hand tentatively reaching up to cup his cheek. “You gave me the ring. You’d never… he’d never hurt me.” 

"This needs to stop." Lockwood finally decided, but Turstin stopped him. 

"She's my sister, but we're almost there." 

Lockwood stared, mesmerised, as my hand gently caressed his cheek, a warm, comforting smile gracing my lips. “You’d never hurt me, right? You’re my love. Do you love me too?” My thumb lightly stroked his bottom lip, and he let out a sharp sigh, hand flying up to remove mine without using any force. Something closed around my throat, fully pulling me back into the memory to find that the man was strangling me, hands clamped around my throat in a fit of rage, jealousy and spite. I fought to stay alive, coughing and wheezing out pleas to let me go. 

“I-I can’t breathe…” I choked, the life draining out of me as my desperate actions to pry his fingers from my throat became weaker, losing my breath and my vision blurring and fully blacking out. 

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸

“So, you’re interested in chess too?” Lockwood asked, his head resting on his hand. 

“How could you tell?” I asked, intrigued, playing with the hem of my white dress. 

“I saw you in your dorm with Turstin. You were playing chess.” He smiled, flicking through his book absent-mindedly.

”Yeah, I do. It’s so…” 

“Interesting?” We both grinned, laughing. 

“Exactly.” 

“Isn’t interesting to Kipps. He called us nerds.” 

“Since when have I given a damn about what Kipps thinks?” We exchanged an affectionate look, and Lockwood’s fingers brushed mine. 

“There’s no one really like you, Artemis.” I was about to drop a compliment, but my eyes widened when I saw the same skull-like ghost, rapidly approaching with Satan’s dagger.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸

“Artemis!” I opened my eyes, sitting up with a jerk and feeling my throat, but I found no bruises or cuts. Turstin was in front of me, Lucy and George on either side of… my bed.  

I was in my room. 

Lockwood was at the door, looking emotional, as far as I could tell- 

HEADACHE. BIG PIERCING HEADACHE.

“What happened?” I groaned, rubbing my forehead before pinching the bridge of my eyebrows. 

“You were so immersed in Annabel’s memory that you simulated her death. Aka you blacked out.” George explained matter-of-factly. 

“We were really worried.” Lucy added. “It seemed really intense.” 

“Nah, it was just a new experience. I’d never tried putting myself in the victim’s memory before.” I reassured, “Wait. Annabel.” 

“Yeah?” Lockwood asked, finally interested. 

“She was strangled to death.” 

“The ring stays in the basement until we take it to the furnaces.” Lockwood ordered, pointedly looking at me for some reason. Everyone had a problem with it, of course.

“What? Why would we stop when we’ve come this far?” George protested. This was a sudden shutdown. There’s something going on.

“No more pet projects. There’s bills to pay.” Bingo. 

“Uh, what bills?” Lockwood took out a letter and handed it to George, who was outraged. 

“£60,000?!” 

“What?” Lucy gasped, taking the letter. I snatched it myself, reading it.

“In two weeks? DEPRAC must be blooming mad.” I added. “You’ll never get together that kind of money.” I looked up with a disapproving stare, eyebrows raised. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” 

“Because it’s my name on the door.” He replied. 

“Of course. You’re at it again. Acting as if the world’s problems rest on your shoulders alone.” 

“Because right now, this problem is my responsibility.” 

“We’re here to help, at least.” 

“How about a loan? This place must be worth a fortune.” Lucy pitched quickly.

“This place is all that’s left of my parents.” Lockwood explained solemnly to her. 

“I’m sorry, I had no idea.” While everyone was devising plans, I crept upstairs and dialled a number, holding it to my ear. 

“This is Artemis Hernandez. I need to speak to Inspector Barnes.” 

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸

“Yeah, cheers, mate.” I cut the call, just in time for Turstin to arrive at the aisle I was in at the library. 

“They’re on a roll downstairs. If you don’t wanna be left out, you should come down now.” He nudged, shrugging. 

“Do you have a thing for Lucy?” I asked abruptly, putting my phone in my pocket. 

“M-Maybe. She’s cute-“ 

“She’s got a thing for you, so get the PDA over and done with.” I started travelling downstairs with him, silently, which was a change. 

“Who were you on the phone with?” 

“Laila. More business stuff.” 

“Do you ever take a break?” We paused at the landing of the stairs, the first floor one flight below. “I get it, you’re the CEO of a huge company, but even CEOs need a break, right?” 

I sighed, looking up at my brother. “I don’t feel like I can take a break. It’s like I have to be checking in, making sure everything is ok or something definitely will go wrong. I don’t know how to ditch the habit, I really don’t.” 

“I get it, mum and dad did a real number on you. But you’re perfectly capable of leaving something for a bit just to have a rest.” 

“I’ll try.” I soothed, “But we have an investigation to get back to.” I went down to the first floor, where everyone was working, “How are you philistines, sans George, doing?”

”Perfectly fine without you.” Lockwood commented, but got a smack from Lucy. “What? We were doing great until she cursed everyone with her presence.” 

“Well, here’s some info. I did some digging and Annabel played Ophelia in Hamlet. Explains why you were taking a fully-clothed bath, Lucy.” I explained nonchalantly, sitting down. 

“Oh, and the daisies! Ophelia drowned herself with daisies because of how Hamlet treated her! Ophelia and Hamlet. Annabel and her abusive lover.” 

“But Annabel didn’t kill herself.” Lockwood contradicted. 

I clicked my tongue in disapproval, shaking my head. “Oh, Lockwood. Poor, unobservant Lockwood. The part she played and her life started mirroring one another.” 

“Which means that whoever played Hamlet did it.” Lockwood took a quick second of research, “Here. Hugo Blake.” 

“That’s our guy.” I smirked, winking. 

“My sister is the BEST!” Turstin whooped. 

“Nice one, Lockwood. Not bad for a philistine.” George praised, cautiously feeding Lockwood’s ego.

"Thank you, George, for actually praising the right person." Lockwood smirked. 

“Well done, Tony.” Quill Kipps was approaching us, clapping. “Actually doing research before a job this time.” 

“Oh, shut up, Kipps, you know no one likes you here.” I spat, standing up at the same time as Lockwood. 

“Artemis Hernandez. The great CEO of SP3CTR. Never imagined that you’d hang around Anthony Lockwood after what happened two years ago.” He turned to Lockwood, “Is it Anthony? Or is it Andrew now?” 

“Keep it down, Kipps.” Lucy snapped. “This is a gallery, not a braying gallery for bellends.” 

“This must be the new assistant.” He smirked. 

“Colleague. And you’re Quill Kipps. I’ve read about you. Haven’t you got the highest mortality rate of any team leader?” That’s my girl. 

“I’m the top supervisor at the country’s top agency.” Kipps boasted, but Turstin came up behind him. 

“I’m pretty sure that I’m the top supervisor. Made legal even at seventeen, a real bite in the butt, eh?” Turstin winked, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. 

“And to boot, I get the best jobs because of how good I am."

"False advertising. You're no better at ghost hunting than a dung beetle." I sneered, which made Kipp's draw his rapier, and like dominoes, so did we. 

"Wrong move." Lockwood tutted. "We can take on any of your beefcakes. Hernandez, wanna show them how it's done?" 

"Gladly." I started to address Kipps, "You'll need a ladder."

"What?" 

I quickly and elegantly flicked my rapier around and up, lodging his in the ceiling. "I warned you." We turned around, meaning to leave. 

"You'll leave him eventually." I turned around, vaguely interested. "Everyone does in the end." 

Lucy grabbed my arm, scoffing at Kipps. "You really can't bloody walk away and accept defeat, can you? Come on, Artemis." We walked away, but it got me thinking. 

Everyone does leave Lockwood in the end.

Even...

Me.

•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸•´¨*•.¸¸.•*´¨•.¸¸.•´¨*•.¸¸.•*•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸

"Hey, Lockwood?" George asked as he was cleaning the table. "What did you say to Arty when she was investigating Annabel?" 

"I didn't say anything." 

"No, you whispered something. I know you did."

"That was gibberish, I was just overwhelmed by the situation." Lockwood brushed off the comment, trying to busy himself in something else. "You know, the great Artemis Hernandez was clutching onto me desperately... it's quite an intense situation-" 

"I know you, Lockwood, so I can tell when you have a secret. So tell me the truth, what did you whisper when she said 'you're my love'?" 

"I said 'always'."

TAGLIST:

@superpositvecloudshipper

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here. 

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield… 

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over. 

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes... 

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up… 

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory. 

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!! 

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus 

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub 

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night… 

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon���s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor 

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑 

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully… 

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

[zealous-whispers-of-us-redux]

a different kind of song

(A/N: no one ever asked for this, but there isn't enough merman!Bucky/reader fics out there, lol. Also, her song is basically "Siren Song" by Margaret Atwood)

Warning- allusions to sexual assault. Do NOT read if that bothers you!

Summary: The sea swallowed her whole, and she was reborn with saltwater on her tongue and webs between her fingers.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

She did not remember her life as a human. All she remembered was the war, and the hunger, and the men raiding her village. She remembered the sweat-soaked skin of a warrior snatching her up as she cried out for help. She felt the slide of his body, his blade against her throat. Then when he had finished, she remembered being thrown away into the deepest part of the sea, left to die. But she was blessed by the primordial sea god Phorcys, a child of Artemis, and was allowed to live again. Her new body was formed from misery and blood, and the reward for her suffering was eternal life with the chance to kill as many humans as she wished with no divine interference. The killing of human men, for men were the chosen victims of any siren. Women were not drawn in by their song, and if, by chance, a woman stumbled across a siren, that siren would leave her alone.

Slowly, she began to forget the trappings of humanity, the sound of her mother's voice, and the taste of human food. She aged with the world, hidden deep beneath the waves. Countless men fell prey to her beautiful song, and she learned how to kill quickly. She grew to love the taste of flesh, the sound of someone drowning. She forgot what it was like to be lonely. 

Now, she only knew starvation.

An all-encompassing hunger clawing at her belly made her whine with pain. Humans had avoided this part of the sea for a few years, and she last ate three months ago. She'd had to survive solely on fish, which, while technically food, were not filling nor even tasty. She was beginning to hate fish.

There were no boats; she checked three times in the past hour. It was dangerous for her to be so close to the surface because the air outside was toxic. There was also a very likely chance that she would be spotted by anyone who could harm her. But she was so hungry that she forgot herself. She floated just beneath the surface and sang, letting her voice ring out through the water, enticing any man into approaching. The setting sun shined down on the outcrop of rocks above her.

And there! A flash of something!

She sang louder, opening her eyes underwater. There was a man with darker hair than she had ever seen lying on a gigantic rock. He was acceptable, she guessed. She barely knew what that meant.

He had yet to notice her, dumb as he was. She could see her song was affecting him as his eyes started to close, and his hand inched unconsciously closer to the water. His finger just barely skimmed the surface before she lunged, yanking him into the sea with her. He began to fight back as she dragged him down to the sandy bottom. Thrashing against her hold, he scrabbled to gain purchase on her body, but to no avail. Her skin was as hard as stony coral and difficult to cut. She sang her trumph, mocking him as she brought him up to break the surface, only to bring him right back down.

But this man had a tail, and she did not realize it until it hit her in the face. She squawked in surprise, her song cutting off. The merman twisted out of her slackened grip. She snarled, baring her teeth as she swam at him. Sirens were stronger than mer, especially in deeper waters, so it did not take much to grab him again. They wrestled, flipping over each other. She sliced his side with one of her nails; his tail knocked the wind out of her. He pulled her lure too hard, and she made a pained sound, biting at his hand. He cried out as she ate clean through one of his webs. Blood leaked into the water, making her ravenous.

"This is the one song everyone would like to learn: the song that is irresistible," she began, "The song that forces men to leap overboard in squadrons, even though they see the beached skulls!"

The merman ceased struggling. He stared at her, his eyes growing vast and dreamy. She grinned toothily. She had only had mer meat once before. It was harder to draw in mermen than human men, so because of that, she was only able to entice a single merman. But that was years ago, and he wasn't nearly as delicious to look at as this mer.

She dropped the tone of her voice to a seductive curl. "This is the song that nobody knows because anyone who has heard it is dead, and others can't remember. Shall I tell you a secret? And if I promise to, will you come nearer? I will tell my secret to you, to you, only to you. Come closer, closer to me."

She lifted her finger, tempting him to come over so that she could take a bite. The merman swam closer until their chests were pressed together. He said something in a language that she had never heard before.

"This song is a cry for help, my dear. Help me! Only you, only you can, for you are unique!" she cried sadly.

His tail curled around hers, and she frightened at the gentle touch broken out of her song. She spat and gnashed her teeth, but still, his tail stayed where it was. He opened his mouth and said something, but she still could not understand. She went to bite his nose off, but he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers so plainly that she stilled. She was not sure what was happening. She was not sure what she was supposed to be doing. She floated there, letting him mash his mouth against hers. His mouth tasted bizarre.

Finally, the merman stopped. He pulled away only minutely, still looking spellbound. Strange. Her song had ended. Why did he continue to look at her like that? He reached out and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. His own were darting back and forth across her face, searching for something. He spoke more things that she didn't understand.

"Uhh-h- hello," the merman said in a language she could understand. "Hi."

"Why were you crushing your mouth onto mine?" she asked.

"What, never heard of kissin' before?"

His smile was much too pleasant. That was unacceptable. Food was never supposed to look nice. She wanted to claw the smile right off of his face.

"Kissing?"

"Yeah, touchin' lips. Usually done as a sign of love or, you know, desire."

"Desire?"

"Sweet Thetis, you're fuckin' gorgeous," said the merman, ignoring her confusion.

His hand shot out to touch her lure, but he thought better of it and withdrew.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

His smile grew bigger, how funny: "Beautiful. Pretty."

"Pretty? What's that?"

"You know, like when you find a shiny thing, an' you wanna keep it forever?"

"I do not know," she grumbled (How dare this mer make her feel unintelligent!). "I have never had shiny things."

"Never had… Hold on, my pretty one."

Mystified, she waited just as he'd asked as he ruffled through a pouch that she had not noticed before. She had never seen anything like it and wondered where she could acquire one. Of course, she never had a reason to have a bag since she had no use for possessions. Perhaps it could hold weapons! Or bones to snack on!

"Ah-ha!" the merman said, thrusting something in her direction.

She stared at the thing in his hand.

"Looks even prettier underneath your lights," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"What is it?" she replied, her hand darting out nervously to touch it.

She pulled back almost instantly, but the merman grabbed her wrist.

"It's called gold," he explained, tipping it into her hands. "The humans use it to get other shiny things. D'you like it?"

"I am not sure. I do not know what I like."

"You can keep it."

"What kind of trickery is this?"

"No tricks. As I said, you're beautiful, and beautiful things should have beautiful things."

"No tricks, certainly, but what do you want in exchange?"

For the first time tonight, he looked sheepish. She noticed that his stomach was turning pink, but for what reason, she was unsure. She wondered what he was trying to work up the nerve to say.

"Well, er, matin' season is comin' up," he began.

"Not yet."

"Right, it isn't for a few months yet, but I was taught to woo the mer, er, the creature that I choose with shiny things. It's my first matin' season, you see."

"Mhm."

"An' the wooin' part takes a while. An' then there's the courtin' stage, which takes even longer."

"If you need a mate, there are mer all around this area during this time."

"Well- heh." The merman rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I'd like it to be you."

"Why?"

"Because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Ah."

"I have more shiny things if you want 'em," the mer said, reaching for his pouch.

She shrugged. "I have no use for them."

"You don't gotta have a use for 'em. Where's your home cave? I can bring 'em there."

"I do not have a home cave," she said.

"Oh, right, where is your family's cave, then?"

"I have no family."

"No family? You mean, you're out here all by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you lonely?"

"What is lonely?" she asked.

"Sad, because you have no one with ya."

"What is sad?"

"Whaddya mean, 'what is sad?' It's sad! Don't you know what that is?" the merman twisted his face up like he was in distress, though what kind she was not sure.

"I only know hunger," she told him.

His eyes lost some of their shine. "Oh, yeah, right. How long's it been since you ate properly anyway? You don't look so good."

"I have not caught a human in months."

"D'you need help huntin'?"

"Can you ensnare a human with your singing?"

"No, but I know some good spots for fish."

"I am not in the mood for fish," she said.

"You just haven't found the right kind," the merman replied, closing his left eye.

He turned tail, swimming away from her before glancing back to see if she would follow him. The hunger in her belly was making her act quite strange in that she was willing to go along with this merman. She felt, oh, what's the word, she knew this, like mer, she was curious. She decided to follow him, keeping a bit of distance between them until the merman flipped around in an impressive display of tailfins and long dark hair, and decided they would swim side by side. His hand kept brushing hers, trying to grab onto her fingers for some reason. She tugged away, unsure of what he was trying to do. She still had not yet decided if she wanted to mate with him anyway. Sirens did not mate in the same way that mer did, that much she knew. They called it breeding, and it was over in a frenzy of teeth and claws. There were no gifts of shiny things or "kisses."

"What's yer name?" the merman asked.

The question stunned her. She could not remember her name before the sea took her in, and she had no use for a name now. No one else called to her. Her name was simply another memory, another casualty to add to her list.

"I do not know," she said.

"You know what a name is, right? Like, I'm Bucky, for example."

Her fingers drifted up to her lips, searching for her name. If she remembered the shape of her mouth as she spoke it aloud, perhaps she could remember the correct sounds. She thought back as far as she could, to the feeling of water filling her lungs, to the sounds of screams, to the smell of a fire burning down her village, to her blood staining her tongue. She wanted to remember her name. She had not even realized this was something she had lost until she needed it.

Then there was a flash of memory, jagged and cutting. Her heart began to race. In her mind, she heard it. Her mother had been crying. Her mother had been screaming at the men to stop. Her mother had been shrieking to let go of her, let go of my daughter. Her mother yelling at her to be brave, hold her breath, be strong, my love, my dear. Her mother. She remembered her mother.

Her lips parted, and she whispered the name into the water. The merman, Bucky, repeated it.

"Again," she said.

He did, and oh, she felt something new, something besides hunger. A hole opened in her chest. Her lower lip wobbled, and then she was singing a new song, never before heard from a siren. It echoed around her and Bucky, reaching out to the farthest depths of the sea. It was filled with desperation, isolation, and salvation, but it was hope and home too.

"Is this what sad is?" she asked Bucky once her song was over.

"Yeah, it is," he answered, curling his tail around hers.

When he went to wrap her up in his arms, she let him, falling into his embrace.

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Not yours.

summary: someone tries to force their way back to y/n's life and harry isn't having any of it.

word count: ----

based on these requests:

“also!! what about something angsty? maybe artemis gets hurt or something and harry is just in full on dad mode”

and 

“What about caleb seeing the trio on tabloids, so he gets slightly jealous and “want’s” back into Artemis’ life unexpectedly.”

and

“ could you write something for my shy little boy about Artemis real father finding out that harry adopted him and showing up at their house claiming that Artemis is his son and basically trying to claim his rights as a father, and harry gets REALLY protective, plsss i would love that concept”

and

“Can you do one in the shy little boy universe where Artemis's dad tries to come back in his life or something. Like he sees them and he's life 'give me a second chance' . I love your writing. Thanks”

you can find more of my shy little boy here

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

November, 2019.

Park days were the best days for the Styles family. They didn’t get to have them as much as they’d like as they were always so busy, but today was an off day and Artemis was responsible for choosing what they were going to do. And of course he chose the park.

Y/N packed some snacks in a picnic basket while Harry took the job of dressing Artemis up. Obviously Artemis ended up way too dress up for just going to the park but it wasn’t a secret Harry was crazy about them wearing the same color or matching outfits to go out.

Harry had picked a pair of white shorts and paired it with a pastel yellow polo shirt he tucked into the shorts. Artemis looked adorable although Harry knew his son most likely get the clothes dirty as soon as they arrive to the park.

“Daddy, my nose itches.” Artemis tried to take off his glasses but Harry stopped him.

Last month they had an appointment with the ophthalmologist and Artemis had to change his glasses at his doctor's request. But Artemis wasn't happy with his new ones, he was always looking for an excuse to take them off or hiding them from his parents.

"Better?" Harry asked, using his fingers to scratch softly where Artemis pointed it itched. The much smaller boy nodded. "You need the glasses, sweetheart. Don't take them off."

"I like my old ones better, why can't i have those?"

"Those doesn't work for you anymore, monkey." He explained. "C'mon, let's put your shoes on." Harry knelt in front of him to watch how Artemis ties his sneakers up, he smiled when his son made it without a problem.

"I just put the things in the car, are you ready?" Y/N said when she saw them coming down the stairs.

"Yes! Let's go, let's go!" Artemis almost jumped from the lasts steps.

Artemis rambled the entire ride about all the fun things they’d do together once they got there, constantly asking if they were at the park already. When they arrived, Harry was surprised it wasn’t so full of people, considering it was the weekend. Y/N unfolded the blanket on the grass, laying the stuff they brought.

“Daddy, let’s play.” Artemis pulled from Harry’s arm, making the latest chuckle.

“Just be careful, please. We don’t want you to fall.” Y/N remained her son, who was too busy running around with his dad.

It was a beautiful day outside, there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, and the weather was perfect despite being in the middle of November. Harry had packed a Frisbee Artemis liked to use in their backyard and that’s what they were using to play.

Harry made sure to throw it softly at his son, not wanting the toy to hit him in the face. Artemis threw his hands in the air every time his daddy caught it.

Everything happened too fast, none of his parents could catch Artemis before he was face down on the grass. He had tried to throw the Frisbee higher but didn’t control his strength and he ended up on the floor.

Harry’s eyes grew wide as he ran towards the small child, his heart breaking as he heard his loud sobs. He picked him up from the grass and scooped him in his arms.

"Are you hurt? Where does it hurt, baby? Is it your arm?" He said, panic visible in his tone.

"He scraped his knees." Y/N said before cooing at Artemis, trying to calm him down. "Got some band aids for your knees, my love. It's okay." She took him in her arms and handed the band aids to Harry so he could put them on his boy's knees after cleaning the little blood that was there.

Caressing his hair softly, Y/N sat back down on the blanket, putting Artemis on her lap to wipe his tears off. "All better?" He nodded with a pout on his face.

Harry copied his son's pout, sitting next to them on the blanket. He didn't like seeing his love being upset, and he'd lie if he said he didn't feel a little guilty for him getting hurt.

"It's okay, accidents happen and sometimes we get hurt." Y/N said as if she could read Harry's thoughts. "What if we eat and then we can go for ice cream."

The smile reappeared on Artemis' face as he stood up from his mum's lap and cheered excitedly. Artemis ate whatever Y/N had packed for them, hurrying his parents so they could go get dessert.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked Harry at the end of the day when Artemis was falling asleep on his daddy's shoulder as he carried him back to the car. "You've been quiet since he fell."

"Just worried. Should we take him to ER?"

"For scraped knees? Don't think so. Harry, it's fine, really. He doesn't even remember he has them." She assured. "Tomorrow it will be all better."

"But he cried so loud." He furrowed as they reached the car and Y/N opened the door of the backseat so Harry could put him on his carseat. "I was worried he hurt his elbow or something."

"I guess it was more out of surprise. He wasn't expecting to fall facedown on the floor." Once everything and everyone were in the car, Harry started to drive back home. "Please don't beat yourself up for this. It was literally an accident."

"But i was playing with him."

"Yes, but you couldn't have prevented it from happen."

She put a hand on his thigh, not wanting him to feel any worse from something so small. Artemis doesn't have a lot of accidents as he is a calm boy who doesn't play sports or anything that requires running or jumping, but when they happen, he gets scared and that's normal. No kid likes to see blood coming out of them, even if it's only a little.

"As a parent the best you can do is stay calm during these situations. If you don't panic, then he doesn't either." She smiled at him.

Y/N loved how protective Harry was, his skills as a parent never failed to show in any situation. But he was still very new at it, and he couldn't help but want to put his boy in a little bubble so nothing bad would happen to him.

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:

A week later, Y/N was cooking dinner while Artemis was upstairs in the movie room watching a cooking show on Netflix. Lately he's been obsessed with those and could watch entire seasons if his parents let him.

Harry was out having a meeting with his team but promised to be back for dinner, so it was just the two of them in the house.

The buzzer sounded, alerting someone was at the other side of the gates. Y/N put down the knife she was holding and walked towards the little screen that allowed her to see who was there.

Her breathe hitched when she saw Caleb standing there. He was looking the other way but Y/N could recognize him anywhere. A frown appeared on her face as he hit the buzzer again. She stayed in her place, starting at the screen and hoping he'd turn around and leave.

But he didn't.

She was ready to go outside and tell him to leave but she heard the gates open before she could do so. The gates opening meant Harry was home.

And home he was. But he furrowed as soon as he saw a body standing there. He didn't recognize the man but he was pretty sure he's seem his face before.

He parked inside but didn't close again the gates as he returned outside. "Can i help you?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Is Y/N home?" The stranger asked, putting his hands inside of his pockets. "I need to speak to her."

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Doesn't matter, i need to see Y/N."

"Uh, it does matter, actually. Why is it so important to speak to my girlfriend?" Harry questioned again in a protective tone.

Before he could answer Harry's question, Y/N came out of the house, closing the door behind her before rushing towards the two man. She stood beside Harry, taking his hand in hers.

"What are you doing here, Caleb?" She asked and Harry's brain finally clicked. He looked so different from the only picture he's seen of him. "What do you want?"

"I need to see him, Y/N." Caleb said, almost in a demanding tone. Y/N looked up at Harry, who already had a deep, angry frown on his face. "I-I saw that video of you three at the park and... Y/N, i'm ready to meet my-"

"He's not your son." Harry barked angrily.

"Harry's right, Caleb. He's not yours in any way." She said sternly. "Besides, i bet it isn't the first video or picture you've seen of us, what could possibly make this one different?"

"I saw him getting hurt." He said defensively. "It.. awoke something in me. I want to be a father, Y/N."

"Then go ahead and get a family of your own because neither Artemis nor I have anything to do with you. Do i have to remind you, you signed the paper giving up your paternal rights?" Y/N started to get angry and Harry squeezed her hand.

"I was twenty-one, Y/N."

"So was I!" She now exclaimed.

"I think it's best if you leave." Harry spoke again, trying to control his anger before he punched that man straight on the face.

"And you are?" Caleb asked "Oh, right. You're the guy she replaced me with. Does my son calls you daddy too?"

"She didn't replace you, she just moved on with someone way better." He smirked. "And yes, my son calls me daddy, must hurt, right? Now get the fuck out of my property before i call the bloody cops."

Harry let go of Y/N's hand just to push Caleb out, not being able to hold his anger anymore. "If i ever see you close to my family, i'll fucking ruin you."

When Caleb was back on his car, Harry finally closed the gates and turned to see Y/N. "I'm sorry you had to see him, my love."

Y/N sighed. "I'm okay. I just... I hadn't seen him since he..." Her lip started trembling but she swallowed the tears. "Seeing his face brought back a lot of emotions."

"Couldn't imagine." Harry took her in his arms and kissed her forehead. "But you won't see him anymore, over my dead body."

"Thank you."

Harry smiled softly at her, supping her face with his hands and pecking her lips. "Thank you for letting me be the one by your side."

"I wouldn't dream of having anyone else."

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

taglist!!

@myfavfanficsever @odetostep @la-cey @cock-a-doodely-doo @awkwardbullfrog @mellamolayla @moorgannn @bagtan-serendipity @awesomebooklover17 @finelineribs @sunnybusiness @beanholland @sweetenerstyle @cronias13 @vhsharry @maisley @seasidecrowbar @stylesfics-xx @autumnpauley20 @fineline-hs1 @stephaniemalvie @immajustreadwritereblog @jadert15 @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @abundanceofsoph @harrysthicccthighs

[prince-simon]

Hola mi amor!

I'll go with 2, 13, 22 and 34 😊

@purplehoodiesimon asked: 13 and 34

@ishotforthestars asked: #7 and #34 for the writer's ask :)

@aro-of-artemis asked: hello my prince! for the fic writer questions, number 6, 22 and 34

------

gonna put them all in one ask bc you all have 34 in common haha (i didn't reply to these last night bc i may or may not have written on prince simon!!!!)

thank youuu for the questions 💗

okay let's goooo:

2: Why do you write fanfiction?

i kinda tumbled into it by accident i think but it's just so comforting? like i know these characters already and i love them and it's just so fun to imagine all these different scenarios for them. fun fact: i started out with original stories and i'm quite proud of that (granted, everything i've written when i was like 12 is probably absolute shit but still) but then i started fanfic and that's so much easier of course. i do miss being able to think up something completely original though so hopefully i can get back to that eventually

13: First fandom you ever wrote for?

gonna expose myself here lol. i'm so old, i started reading fanfic on youtube (anyone here who still remembers the fanfic videos there??) without even being able to put a name on it. anyway it basically was like- nick jonas/demi lovato or miley cyrus or something? definitely straight lmao. and it was always like "i'm just gonna use their names" and basically, that's what i ended up doing too. using the disney squad to put a face to my characters lol. it all went downhill from there

22: Do you listen to anything while you write?

i sometimes do. but it's just a random ass playlist, like whatever i feel like at the moment. it never really has anything to do with what i write. i gotta say though, for prince simon, the scene on the balcony in chueca, when simon starts singing, i listened to spanish guitar music the whole time. bc that shit's magical

34: Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

is anyone surprised i'm gonna go with a prince simon quote? well. this bit always wrecks me so. i'm very fond of it lol (there's also something in the next chapter that i'm really proud of but i'm not gonna post it here bc spoilers. but. hint: letters)

Saying goodbye was torture. When Wilhelm woke up that morning, it was nose to nose with Simon, whose eyes were already open, flickering across his face. “Abrázame,” he whispered, turning around to face the other way.

Wilhelm’s heart was pounding. He was going off context clues and what he himself wanted, when he gingerly wrapped his arms around Simon, pressing his nose into Simon’s neck.

A shuddering breath escaped Simon’s lips as he scooted that little bit closer to Wilhelm, and Wilhelm held him tighter.

They stayed like that until Simon murmured, “You need to catch a flight.” It sounded like it took all his willpower to say it.

“It’s a private jet, they can wait if the prince of Sweden wants to cuddle his…” Wilhelm faltered. Shit.

There was a beat of silence before Simon joked, “So scandalous of you. Don’t let the people find out.”

Wilhelm let out a small laugh and pressed a kiss to Simon’s neck because his skin was warm and soft and so enticing under his touch. “It’s time they found out,” he mumbled. (Promised.)

7: What element of writing do you struggle with most?

funnily enough, i think fluff is the hardest? like. idk i just struggle to figure out all the feelings to put into a scene like that and the urge to make it angsty is always there ahahah

and also, dialogue. which is why it means the world to me when someone tells me it feels so natural

6: What element of writing do you find comes easily?

i think yearning/pining and self-deprecation come easily to me for personal reasons lmaooo also, in the context of prince simon, writing kristina (it's just so easy to make her the villain, and also put my own frustrations towards my mother on her)

[orangerosebush]

Sitting on the branches of my family tree

[ao3 link]

Artemis was currently sitting alone in the kitchen at three in the morning. He didn’t quite know when he’d officially decided he wasn’t going up to bed, but one way or another he had found himself sitting in the gloom of the downstairs.

The room was dim, as Butler had turned off the hall lights before he’d retired for the evening sometime late the previous night. The only thing illuminating the kitchen was the faint, warm glow of the metal hot plate that was keeping the water in the kettle at a low boil.

Artemis frowned. He looked down at the cup of earl grey he’d been nursing for the past half hour. Probably too cold to enjoy properly at this point, he sighed.

Faint ripples formed in what tea remained at the bottom of the mug, and he furrowed his brow. That was odd. Straining his ears, he glanced at the entrance to the kitchen apprehensively.

Sure enough, coming slowly down the grand staircase was Juliet. Artemis blinked, eyes flickering back to the old clock on the wall.

Interesting.

“Either you’re up extraordinarily early,” he remarked as she tried to slink into the kitchen as quietly as she could. “Or you’ve stayed up rather late.”

Anyone else would’ve jumped at such a surprise, but Juliet merely tensed. Years of the Blue Diamond training program had left her with nerves of steel.

Turning to face him slowly, she gave him an appraising look.

“Hey,” she said carefully.

“Hello,” he responded, amused.

Silence settled over the room.

“I always suspected that you stalked around the house at night, Artemis,” she snorted after a moment. “Relaxing too much a waste of your time?”

“You make me out to be almost sinister, Juliet. I’m afraid this is just a rather mundane example of my insomnia flaring up,” he waved her off, getting up to move to the stove top. “Do you want any of the tea I was making?”

She took a seat on one of the barstools by the main table. “Tea? If you’re either constantly on a caffeine drip or are staring at a screen all the time, then I don’t think you have insomnia. You’re just a workaholic.”

“Clinically so,” Artemis murmured, flicking off the burner. “I take it you don’t want any, then?” he called out over his shoulder.

“Nah, I want some — I’ll take whatever you have that’s decaf and fruity,” she crossed her arms on the counter and rested her chin on them.

He wrinkled his nose, taking the kettle off the burner to pour the steaming water into his cup. Opening the cabinet above the stove, he reached for another cup, the cool china of the mug soothing against his skin. He placed a tea bag at the bottom of the new cup, watching a vibrant ruby diffuse through the water as the tea steeped. In contrast, his earl grey was a richer color, almost caramel.

Fingers curling around the warmth of the cups, he brought the two mugs over to the table. Juliet perked up, reaching for her cup. She let the steam waft up, coiling around her face, and she smiled warmly, closing her eyes.

“It smells like strawberries.”

Artemis took a sip of his earl grey. “It most likely has some strawberry in it. It’s the berry mix that Barry’s carries. The box is described as a refreshing blend of ‘red’ berries,” he made air-quotes.

“I can certainly taste the red, so I’d give it full marks,” she held it up approvingly, putting on what Artemis assumed was meant to be a parody of his affectation.

“On your way to being a tea sommelier, I see.”

“Mayhaps . Also, yours better be decaf,” she shot a pointed look at his cup.

“You’re hardly in the position to speak about maintaining good sleep habits — you were wandering about the halls as well,” he reminded her, deliberately taking another sip of his tea.

She flushed. “I was asleep. It’s not my fault I woke up and wanted to stretch my legs. Also, you’re not wandering if you’re walking about with purpose.”

“Did Ko tell you that?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Nope. I heard it from some pageant mum during the tryouts for the Miss Sugar Beet Fair.”

“In what context?”

“I caught her nicking stuff from the other ladies’ purses in the cubby area,” she remarked airily.

Surprised, he laughed. “I admire her panache. Very Fowl-esque of her.”  

“You can’t trademark being a conman that puts on airs, Artemis,” she rolled her eyes. “Mulch does the same shit, and I’m pretty sure he’s been around for at least three generations of Fowls.”

“I would disagree,” he stirred his tea. “At the risk of sounding egotistical, Diggums falls more into the category of being a petty crook than he does into the category of being a criminal mastermind.”

“Oh, really? We can ask him which one of us he agrees with if you want, Artemis,” she leaned forward, smug. “He’s been squatting in the cellar for about a month now.”

Artemis sighed. “I’ve been trying to actually catch a glimpse of him down there so that I can tell him to leave,” he said glumly. “I know he’s down there siphoning wine out of the casks, but he’ll surely argue that I’m just going mad if I attempt to kick him out over a phone call.”

“I thought you said he was just a petty crook,” she widened her eyes. “Shouldn’t a ‘criminal mastermind’ be able to handle evicting some random—“

“You’ve made your point,” he huffed.

“Gotcha!” she grinned.    

“Congratulations, Juliet, on successfully defending Mulch’s no doubt fragile self-esteem. I have no idea how he would manage to enjoy our vintages were he to know I referred to his escapades as ‘petty’.”  

Juliet shrugged. “Eh, wine is wine at the end of the day. You don’t even drink , Artemis.”

“Not all wine is created equal,” he argued, steepling his fingers. Sensing he was gearing up to give a spiel, Juliet huffed.

“Take for example the ‘87 Merlot — a wine which I suspect he has already sampled in excess,” Artemis began. “To call it a work of art would be to sell it short. Mulch is free to skim off the top of some of the lesser vintages, but I would appreciate if he would stay away from the quality wines that make up our rather expensive collection in the cellar.” Artemis sniffed, lazily swirling the remains of his tea.

Juliet snorted, resting her chin on her palm. “Nice speech. I was very moved by the ‘work of art’ bit.”

At this, the sides of Artemis’ mouth quirked upwards. “I have to defend it on principle. It was produced in an odd year, after all. Those always produce the best grapes.”

The young Butler rolled her shoulders a bit, her weight shifting in the chair as she stretched. Reaching up, her right hand tucked back a loose strand of hair that had fallen out of the messy bun she’d put her hair up in before bed. “That sounds like rich bullshit. No way.”

Artemis snickered, bowing his head in concession. “You’re right. It is.”

Juliet grinned. “Knew it. Where’d you hear that bit about the odd versus even years?”

He leaned back in his chair, his grip tight on the fading warmth of his cup. “Oh, it would’ve been a while ago. I thought it was so funny when I first heard about that rule,” he smiled fondly. “The Abbey Theatre was running Six Degrees of Separation. I remember pleading with mother to take me to see one of the performances — the press had just run a piece calling it obscene — and eventually, she relented. I was probably the youngest person in the theatre that night,” he chuckled.

As if lost in the memory, Artemis closed his eyes, his expression pensive. “There was one scene where the character Paul, a conman, was leading a young man around New York City. They went to the Rainbow Room to dine, and Paul told his companion that there was a secret trick rich people use when ordering wine: universally, the wines produced in the odd years are considered to be better. I remember there were titters in the audience —wine tasting is often based more on evaluating a bottle through a formula of factors than it is about the taste, and even the couples with cellars filled with vintages worth thousands of euros could have a bit of a laugh at that.”

Artemis opened his eyes, the whites flashing in the dim light. “But you see, it’s not a commonly held belief that odd year vintages taste better than even years. He’d made the rule up.”

Juliet blinked. “So?” she furrowed her brow. “It sounds close enough to some of the stuff I’ve heard people say about wine at the parties your mum throws.”

“True, but it wasn’t even one of the myths about wine!” Artemis leaned forward earnestly. “That night, the actor playing Paul said this particular line so assuredly that you believed he’d heard this straight from the mouth of an old money wine aficionado — at that moment, his compatriot melted away,  and we replaced him. Paul had turned his charm on the audience, stringing us all along,” his voice became quiet.

Tilting his head so that he was gazing at Juliet directly,  Artemis opened his mouth as if to say something before he closed it, frowning slightly. Worrying the inside of his cheek, he tried to formulate his next sentence. He almost chuckled at that. It wasn’t often that he was at a loss for words.

“Sometimes… sometimes I hear someone at a restaurant jump a little too quickly to choose the odd-year wine,”  he said finally. “Sometimes, I hear what sounds like a touch of smugness in a couple’s tone when they turn down an even-year vintage. It’s possible I’m imagining it, but I do wonder. I wonder now and then if they saw that play — maybe not on that night, maybe not in that theatre — and believed. ”

With that, Artemis sighed, finally placing his teacup gently on the table. By now, the smooth surface of the china was cool to the touch.

Juliet let one of her hands fall from her chin to the table, flexing her fingers in thought. “You know,” she began slowly. “I think I’ve seen a bit of Six Degrees.”

Artemis started, shoulders rising. “Oh?”

She nodded. “I’m pretty sure. I think they made it into a movie a while back. Will Smith was in it.”

Artemis stared at Juliet in silence, blinking owlishly. “Did… did you like it?”

Juliet puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled, thinking for a moment. “Actually,” she began after a moment, locking eyes with Artemis. “I can’t remember.”

That was all it took.

The floodgates were released, and the pair was wracked with laughter.

Artemis couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard that tears had welled in his eyes. He snorted, wiping the wetness on his cheeks away with the palm of his hand.

“You should really be getting to bed,” he said after they’d sobered, crossing his arms on top of the table. Juliet scrunched her face up, stretching in her seat.

“I’m not tired,” she protested.

Artemis cocked his head curiously. “We’ve both been up since sunrise yesterday,” he pointed out. “The skyline is already starting to light up along the water by the cliffs. I know Madame Ko trained you to work during the most extenuating of circumstances, but surely you do need to sleep every now and again.”

“God —you’re such a hypocrite sometimes, you know that?” she prodded his arm with a finger, and he almost winced. “And I wasn’t up since yesterday, okay?” she added, almost as an afterthought.  

He rubbed his shoulder. “Apologies.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Of course. Surely you weren’t on the phone with your girlfriend from your old wrestling troupe who is around, oh, six hours or so behind our time zone.”

Juliet’s cheeks turned scarlet. “Shut up, Artemis,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands in embarrassment. “Who even told you about her? Was it Dom?”

Artemis shrugged good-naturedly, refusing to comment. She shot him a withering look, finally dragging her hands away from her face.

“… Practice got out late. Sam forgot that a late practice over there is… early over here.”

“And you picked up the phone when she called anyway? So romantic. What a prophetic name you have, Juliet,” he grinned, and she flushed deeper.  

“I’m not letting someone who skulks around in the dark snark about my long-distance relationship,” Juliet crossed her arms, and it was Artemis’ turn to be defensive.

“I’ve explicitly told you already that I was not ‘skulking’.”

She laughed at that, and the light of the nascent sunrise made it seem as though parts of her blond hair were lit up by a fiery reddish-gold, Artemis thought. Some people were meant to be seen in sunlight, others in the moonlight — Juliet was well suited to the warm light of dawn, a light still full of reds, pinks, and oranges.

Juliet must have noticed he’d been staring, as she softened.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you’re always thinking so hard,” she said offhandedly. Artemis ignored the lump forming in his throat.

“I’m afraid ‘thinking hard’, as you put it, is what I’m built to do.”

She locked her gaze on him, frowning.

“You can think as much as you want during the day, Artemis,” she reminded him lightly, finally leaning back. “Holing yourself up until you finally have some big breakthrough can very easily turn into pushing people away, and you know it.”

“Ah,” he winced. “I assume that was a thinly-veiled reference to my sending your brother away to Cancún?”

Whether tired or just exasperated, Juliet ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah, genius. Sometimes you’ve gotta slow down a bit so that we can all catch up with you. Especially Dom. The Cancún stuff nearly killed him, you know?”

He winced. “I know. I shouldn’t have used you as a way to manipulate — I shouldn’t have resorted to manipulating your brother at all,” he amended. “I let my paranoid mind get the better of me, as you said.”

“It doesn’t make it okay, but it wasn’t totally your fault,” she shook her head. “That’s what made it hurt more for him, in the end. He left to go to me in Cancún even though he knew something was… off with you because he thought I was in danger. Domovoi came after me because he thought his baby sister was in trouble,” she snorted at that. “But it still took the ‘worst case scenario’ to get him to leave you in the first place.”

She fixed him in her gaze. “Even at your lowest point, you knew on some level that it would take an emergency to get him to abandon you when you were hurt, Artemis. Lurking around the house at night so that you can drive yourself up the wall without anyone telling you to knock it off won’t change that. It’ll just make you feel like shit.”

They sat there in silence.

Artemis looked back at her, properly trying to make eye contact this time. “I am trying to get better, you know,” he said after a moment, almost grimacing when he realized how snarky that sounded. Thankfully, Juliet took it in stride.

“I know.”

He looked away, reaching for his forgotten cup of tea. The china was cool again, he found, turning it around between his hands.

“I’ll… try not to lurk around the house, as you put it so bluntly,” he said, only a tad begrudgingly.

She raised an eyebrow. “You won’t do it again, or you won’t get caught again?”

Artemis paused. “I’ll try not to do it again,” he decided after a moment, surprised to find he was being completely honest. Juliet seemed satisfied at that.

“Cool,” she grinned, beginning to relax once more into her usual easy-going manner.

“I appreciate you talking to me,” he added, tightening his grip on his cup. “You’ve given me much to think about. In a good way,” he smiled.

She beamed at that. Reaching to undo her bun, Juliet shook her head as though she were shaking off rain after coming inside. She must’ve showered before putting it up, as her hair seemed wavier than it usually was, he noted.

“Thanky."

“I suppose I ought to thank Sam for forgetting the extent to which Ireland is ahead of Mexico,” he mused, and Juliet seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.

“Yeah, you should — I stole a lot of what she’s had to say when I was making my point about isolating yourself and stuff,” she explained slowly.

“Oh?” he furrowed his brow. She waited a moment, seemingly debating how she was going to continue.

“Please. We grew up in the same house, Artemis. I’ve got pretty similar childhood baggage to what you’re probably leafing through. Parent stuff, growing up too soon stuff, normal 20-something stuff, weird 20-something stuff,” she shrugged. “She doesn’t let me mope, but she also like, sees me, you know?”

He regarded her for a moment, considering what she’d said. “You deserve someone like her,” he remarked. She shook her head.

“Not to drop my slightly- older-adult ‘adult wisdom’ on you,” she leaned forward. “But you’re not with someone because you deserve them or because they deserve you. She makes me laugh, she listens…” she trailed off.

“And so you pick up the phone each time,” he finished, and she grinned, tapping her nose.

“You’re starting to get it. It’s both the connection and commitment. We meet each other where we are, and then we move forward together.”

“Connection and commitment,” he echoed her.

“Connection and commitment and a whole bunch of therapy,” Juliet ticked off a finger for each one. He nodded, resting his chin on his hand.

“And ,” she added, shooting him a look. “Getting to bed at a consistent time.”

He made a face. “Does recovery necessitate giving up all the things that make life worthwhile?”

“My brother has a bunch of WebMD mental health articles printed out all over his room,” she poked him. “And the bits about developing good sleeping habits are all over the pages on the standard treatment for mood disorders. You probably have read the sources the articles cite, though — you don’t get a pass to run yourself into the ground just because you’re smart enough to give a lecture on psychology. Go to bed. The world will still be here when you wake up.”

He was going to say something snide about how he didn’t actually have the luxury of assuming the world would still be there, but he stopped himself. It was too early in the morning to bring up the specters that loomed prominently in his thoughts. Chasing those fears was what had started his spiral in the end, after all.

“Very well. I’d wish you goodnight, but it’s more apt to say good morning at this point,” he ventured, standing up from his seat.  

Juliet rose as well, following in suit.

“Thank god ,” she muttered. “Not that talking through feelings isn’t fantastic, but I was just about ready to toss you over my shoulder and haul you upstairs. I’m exhausted .”

Artemis tried not to look too stricken. He has no doubt she was completely serious.

“On a final note,” she sighed, patting down the wrinkles in her nightshirt. “I miss being lovingly suplexed by my wrestler girlfriend,” she complained.

He made a face.

“Come off it — I’m allowed to brag about my jock-centric relationship.”

He grimaced. “You’re a match made in heaven.”

She stuck her tongue out, and he rolled his eyes before starting to make his way over to the stairs. Artemis lingered in the doorway, resting his hand against the smooth frame. “Goodnight, Juliet.”

“Goodnight, Artemis.”

[ijustwant2write]

An Unforeseen Future-Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader (Part 6/?)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Masterlist

Prompts List

Tags: @littlemessyjessi @hains-j @cliffdidanelvis @satsuma-livewasp-nightmares @miss-artemis-wild @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @millie67 @absolutelynoregretsonlychoices @the-loud-and-crazy-rabbit-pirate @mysticalfairytales @snowblazeblack @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @thatchampagnebitch @thiahilmarsdottir @mzliterarydreamer @newlifeforus@x-valhalla @jazzycasino @blonddnamedhandz @enchantedbones @severewobblerlightdragon @sad-letter @pieces-by-me @squids-for-knees

Summary: (Y/N) is stuck as Hvitserk stalks after Bo, and she is sure that he is intent on killing him. It seems that there is no possible way out, there is nothing that she can do to save him.

Characters: Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader, Harald Finehair x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mention of blood, killing, death, false imprisonment, swearing, drugging, manipulation, threats

                                  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hvitserk!” I screeched, hurting my throat as I continued screaming at the top of my lungs.

My wrists were red raw from struggling against the rope, and I felt like I had pulled the muscles in my shoulders after thrashing around so much. With nothing near me to cut the ropes, I was truly trapped, with no way of getting to Bo. Even if I stepped foot outside, Hvitserk surely had his guards on strict orders to lock me up again. I had never seen Bo fight, I had no idea how good he was; even if he won against Hvitserk, his men would go straight after Bo for killing the prince.

I heard the front door open, but it couldn't be Hvitserk and Ivar, they wouldn't be back so soon. Falling silent, I heard footsteps approaching, tensing up when a guard entered the room.

"Stop screeching. You're pissing us all off." he snapped.

"Go retrieve Prince Hvitserk, he's about to do something incredibly stupid!" I urged.

"Like I would listen to you."

"I-I'm still the princess!"

“Oh, so now you want to class yourself as royalty? Well, your highness, would you please shut up?” He mockingly bowed.

I groaned.“Why can’t you see that Hvitserk is about to kill an innocent man because he is jealous? It’s ridiculous!”

“Many men kill each other to keep their women.”

“He’s not keeping me.”

“You seem to be kept here.” he gestured to the rope.

Looking up at my hands, I had an idea.“Look, I’ll shut up if you untie the ropes. Please, I’m not going after him.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“No, because I’ll never make it past any of you. Have you seen my wrists? The skin is cut, I’m bleeding. I just don’t want to be in pain anymore.”

He stepped closer, looking sympathetic as he glanced at my wrists (where blood was trickling down my arm). Now stood beside me, he leaned down, looking as if he was reaching for his sword. Yes, he was foolish just as I had planned, the idiot was going to let me go!

“If you stop moving about, it wouldn’t hurt so much.” he smirked.

I frowned at him.“Fuck you.”

The man said nothing as he left, but from the way he walked, I could see that he was pleased with himself. Slamming the front door shut to make a statement, I felt a horrible overwhelming feeling build up, a lump form in my throat before I started crying. My shoulders ached as they shook, tears running down my neck as I couldn’t wipe them away. Bo was going to die, I couldn’t do anything to help him. I was useless! 

Hours had passed since Hvitserk left, and the exhaustion from crying, struggling against my binds and fighting with Hvitserk had made me fall asleep. No sweet dreams visited me. I was sluggish as I woke, hating the painful feeling in my arms; however, the sight before me was what I truly loathed at that moment. Hvitserk was sat on the edge of the bed, hand on my thigh as he quietly called my name, he was the one to wake me.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), wake up.”

I jerked away from him, wincing as I unintentionally moved my arms.

“Try not to move, you’re going to be sore.”

“Please Hvitserk, I am in so much pain.” I cried again, my throat hoarse.

“Sh, here,” he reached over for a cup on a small table beside us, bringing it to my lips,“you must be thirsty.”

Moving my head away from him, I kept my lips closed, not wanting to take anything from him, despite desperately needing a drink. He had a smile on his face, even as he grabbed my cheeks with one hand.

“Come now darling, you must be parched. I just want to look after you.”

Having had enough of me, he pinched my nose blocking off any air to my lungs. Trying hard not to gasp, my eyes watered as I held on, though I knew I would have to take a gulp of air at some point, and so did he. With my lungs hurting, I attempted to subtly take in a breath of air, but of course that didn’t work. I choked and coughed as he poured the drink down my throat, spitting some out.

“What did you give me?”

“It’s alright, it’ll help you.” he stood, leaning over me as he began untying the rope. His hands were stained red, making my eyes widen.

“Y-you’ve killed him...you killed Bo!” I snapped. 

“Hush now, you’ll lose your voice.”

As the ropes loosened, my arms slowly fell down, the muscles stiff from being in the same position for hours. Despite the pain, I attempted to lunge for him, but somehow I wasn’t in control of my limbs, making me fall off the bed. Hvitserk chuckled as he caught me, lying me down on his lap, cradling my head.

“What...” my words were slurring.“What did you give me? Hvit...Hvitserk...help.”

“It’s to help you sleep. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

I wanted to ask about tomorrow, but could only moan, words unable to form. Although my mind was screaming at me to fight, my body had shut down. He drugged me, he had a plan for me that he needed me to be asleep for, and I was petrified what was going to happen. As my body shut down again, eyelids heavily closing, I felt him stroke back my hair, flashes of his red hands being the last thing I saw.

                                         *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“She’s waking up.” 

The sentence was muffled, I couldn’t figure out who it was. My eyelids struggled to open, I rubbed my eyes, ignoring the ache in my muscles. With my vision still blurry, I went to speak, but my throat was too dry. Swallowing thickly, I cleared my throat, finally able to make out my surroundings. Two thralls stood at the end of the bed I was lying on. We weren’t in the cabin given to us when I first arrived, this one was different, more grand.

“Where am I?” I mumbled, trying to sit up when I felt a tightness in my chest. Glancing down, I realised I was in a dress.

“Please do not rush princess, you need to take things slow.” one of them said, hesitantly approaching me.

"Why am I in a dress? Who put me in a dress?"

"We did, we were ordered to by Prince Hvitserk."

My eyes widened."Why?"

They glanced at each other."F-for the feast."

"What feast? I'm sick of asking questions!" I winced, my head hurting as I raised my voice.

"The raid is set to take place in a few days. And it's also a celebration of your reunion with Hvitserk, everyone was worried about you."

I sneered at them, they understood they needed to elaborate.

"Prince Hvitserk set out to rescue you, after your kidnapping."

I groaned, rolling my eyes at the story. Of course he was telling lies, he had to make up a story to make him look like the hero. I was in a deep blue dress which had embellishment around the off shoulder neckline; it also had long sleeves, he knew he had to cover up my cuts.

"You're currently in King Harald's home, his room. The feast will take place here too."

I sighed."And when is this feast?"

"Tonight."

The thralls helped me to my feet, testing out whether I could walk by myself. I was slow, and I felt like I had been through a whole day and night of training. Dismissing them, I looked at myself in the mirror, wishing that I wasn't wearing such a beautiful gown to a miserable event. Thinking about who would be there at the feast, I remembered what I saw before I passed out; Hvitserk's bloodstained hands. Bo wasn't here, not any more. I couldn't fathom the idea of him being dead. Staring at myself in the mirror, I didn't see myself, this was the (Y/N) Hvitserk wanted. The good, little princess of his, his obeying wife.

"Oh, you look beautiful (Y/N)." I heard Harald's voice as he entered the room.

I frowned at him."I can't go in there."

"Come (Y/N), you will have a great time. There are old friends of yours in there, people who can't wait to see you raid-"

"I don't want to fucking raid!" my voice cracked."I don't want to be here Harald. I'm a prisoner."

"Things will get better (Y/N). If you go along with it, it will be as if nothing changed."

"And that's the problem. I can't act like everything is alright. He's killed my friend Harald! He's killed him for no other reason than jealousy! I would have gone along with his fairytale if that meant he would leave Bo alone, but he wouldn't listen. How can you stand back and watch as I, your friend, suffer through all of this? You know he's in the wrong!"

"Take a deep breath (Y/N)," he took a step towards me, reaching out to comfort me but I flinched away. As I did that, he furrowed his brow at me,"what is wrong with your wrists?"

I scoffed."You sound shocked. If you didn't know, I was tied up all night, then drugged and dragged here. And I was also dressed in this whilst unconscious, then told I was apparently kidnapped and that there was a feast being held partly for me tonight. This seems to be my life now."

"I...I do not know what to say."

"Then you are as speechless as I am." the sound of Hvitserk's voice made my skin crawl.

"Hvitserk, you should not sneak around like that." Harald let out a breathy laugh.

"Why? Are you two up to something?" Hvitserk was half joking, but tension rose in the room. Hvitserk looked me up and down, happily sighing,"You always look gorgeous in that colour."

I turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed again.

"I'm sure you must be starving. Your favourite foods are out there waiting for you, and the people will arrive soon. Let us celebrate your return." he held his hand out as if I would leap up and take it.

"Hvitserk, perhaps we should let her rest a while longer. I'm sure people will understand that." Harald tried to help me.

"Harald, would you please leave me and my wife? This should be between us."

My pleading eyes didn't work on Harald. He looked guilty as he left, but I heard him happily greeting people as they entered the hall, the noise level rising with the chatter. I was stuck again.

"Why don't you want to see our friends?" Hvitserk quietly asked, sitting beside me. He rested an arm behind me, and I knew he was itching to wrap it around me.

"My friends would see right through this act, so you didn't invite them. Your friends shall be there, as will all your followers."

"I chose this dress for you. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one."

"You knew it was the one to cover up my wounds."

"How are they?" he reached down for my wrists, smiling to himself,"I know what will make them better."

He was about to tenderly kiss them, but I shot up, tearing my hands away; we used to do that all the time for each other's scars (he had much more since I never raided again), it was a beautiful moment between us. A sign that we would always be there to look after each other, as if a kiss would heal all wounds. However, I suddenly went very dizzy, and Hvitserk was there to catch me again.

"Woah, be careful (Y/N)." it was disgusting how tight his arms were around my waist."Let's get you sat down and get some food in you. We shouldn't keep them waiting."

The way he now held my hand wasn't comforting. I knew that if I let go or refused to hold his hand, something else might happen to me. Now was not the time to cause a scene. Hvitserk wanted to put on a show for everyone, he wanted everyone to see how perfect things were now. His smile grew bigger as we made our way to the hall, the music and chatter getting louder. Cheers rang out as we appeared, Hvitserk waving an arm out as we went to take our seats. I managed to look somewhat content.

"Here they are, your prince and princess!" Harald had the audacity to announce, avoiding eye contact with me."Finally, two lovers reunited. This is the kind of uplifting and encouraging story we needed to give ourselves a boost of motivation for this raid! Everything is back to normal, and soon, we shall have even more riches to shower ourselves in! For tonight, we feast!"

The roar from the crowd was extremely loud, hurting my ears. I made sure to look happy, taking a cup with some form of alcohol in one hand as Hvitserk kept grip of the other. I flinched as he squeezed it, pulling me closer to him so that he could whisper in my ear.

"Do not ruin tonight." he warned, looking out into the crowd. No one was watching.

"You're going to tie me up again?" I snarled back.

"No. I know who else was on that ship with you. They can easily be tracked down, just as Bo was."

I pulled away from him, pushing the petrified feeling deep down inside me and remaining calm. Leaning back in my chair, I let out a shaky breath, scanning the room for any of the crew. None of them were here, and I could believe that Hvitserk had guards waiting for orders tonight.

How the fuck was I supposed to get out of this? Hvitserk had all the power. The only people that could help me were under threat if I made a bad move. I was literally trapped, I had no freedom to even think of a way to escape. Bo was dead, and if I didn't tread lightly, I would have more blood on my hands. It seemed that the only way out was me with no life left inside, and that wasn't an option in my eyes. This would be a waiting game, a long one, but I had to bide my time; because I would overcome this, I had to overcome this.

[youngjusticeslut]

Remember

Fandom: Young Justice  Links: FF.net // AO3 Characters:  Artemis Crock, Dick Grayson, M’gann M’orzz, Conner Kent, Kaldur’ahm, Wyynnde, Garth, Wally West, mentions of Jade, Lian, Paula, Roy, Shalaina, Barbara, Zatanna and Raquel. Summary: In the six months after Wally's ceasing, the six members of the original team each remember him in their own way. // or, how the team copes with his death. Rating: T  Word Count:  4k Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters. 

The Watchtower June 23rd, 23:16 EDT

Conner puts himself in charge of Wally’s hologram before anyone else can offer.

He knows that he’s the most logical choice. Kaldur will want to do it, but will get too caught up dealing with the team that he’ll put himself on the backburner. M’gann won’t be able to look at the memorial without crying. Artemis is too much of a wreck. And Dick… Dick is gone.

Sure, someone else could have done it. They could have left it to the League. Or Bart. Bart would have readily taken it on and roped Flash into helping. It wouldn’t have felt right, though. Wally was one of them. The original six. It’s only fair that one of them handles it.

In the three days it takes them to build the hologram, Conner handles the harder things. Memorial arrangements. Consoling the team. Picking up whatever slack he can load on his shoulders. He keeps busy.

Everyone else needs time to grieve. More than he does, at least. Grief is an emotion he can easily control. It nestles inside him, content, easily ignored when more pressing matters come to play. It’s always been this way. When people get hurt, or die, he’s always the one they can count on to keep things going. It’s instinct, by now. And truth be told, it helps him feel a little bit better.

When the hologram is finished, Conner stays behind and stares up at it. None of this is fair. Artemis shouldn’t have to go through this pain. Dick shouldn’t have to live without his best friend. Wally should have continued to live, to be their friend.

But he’s gone now, and someone has to step up. Bart may have filled Wally’s shoes as the new Kid Flash, but being a hero was only a part of his legacy. After Kaldur, Wally always made sure that everyone was taken care of. He’d hang around the Cave and make sure all the new members got acquainted. If anyone needed a place to crash, Wally’s home, and then his and Artemis’, was always a safe haven. He’d organized game nights, movie nights, team outings. With him gone, there’s nobody left to take care of everyone else.

Nobody, except him. For so long, Conner fought the idea of leadership. Everyone’s role on the team was well defined. Kaldur was the leader. Artemis was the spirit. Dick was the brains. M’gann was the power. He was the strength. And Wally was the heart. Conner was comfortable in his role, and he never sought to change it. Things are different, now. It feels like the right time to step up.

Wally was his friend. His first friend. Conner needs to do right by him, to keep his memory alive.

He crouches low, touching the base of the hologram. “You don’t have to worry,” he says, barely speaking above a whisper. “I’ll take care of them for you. I promise.” He’ll make sure that Artemis gets through this. He’ll find Dick and be there for him in any way he needs. He’ll force Kaldur to take breaks and stop overworking himself. And M’gann… he’ll find a way to forgive her and work through their past.

Life’s too short to do anything else.

Happy Harbor July 1st, 13:34 EST

The snickerdoodles don’t taste right.

Wally’s memorial is in two hours, and despite spending the better part of her morning in the kitchen, M’gann has nothing to show for it. She sighs, dumping the fourth batch of cookies into the waste bin. It wouldn’t be right to show up empty handed. Wally would never forgive her.  

Ignoring the pang in her chest, M’gann straightens up and rolls up the sleeves of her sweater, resolved to try again.

“Let’s see,” she mutters to herself, pulling up the recipe in her head. “Butter, eggs, flour…” A dash of cinnamon. A sprinkle of salt. The ingredients float towards the dirty mixer, ready for another attempt. Hopefully this time she won’t leave anything out.

The batter comes together easily enough. M’gann has made this recipe enough times that she moves automatically, measuring flour and cracking eggs without so much as a second thought. Keeping her hands busy is good. If she moves, she can’t think. Thinking will only make her cry, and she can’t cry. M’gann doesn’t have that right, especially not today.

Conner, Kaldur, Zatanna, Raquel and her are all in agreement that today, their attention will be on Artemis. Though the former archer puts up a brave front for the sake of the team and keeping things more or less normal, today will be different. Each of them will take turns looking out for her, ensuring that someone is with her at all times. It’s the very least they can do.

As M’gann folds the batter together, her mind turns to Dick. None of them have heard from him since he handed off the team to Kaldur and Barbara. Conner tried visiting his apartment. Artemis texted and called until his phone died. Kaldur persuaded Zatanna to try a locator spell, if only to ensure that their friend was alive. After a few weeks, Artemis informed them that he texted her back.

I’m fine.

Two words. Two words that scream how not-fine he is, but enough to keep them away for a little while longer.

M’gann tastes the batter and crinkles her nose. Something is still missing. She doesn’t have time to mess up another batch, she needs these to come out right. For Wally.

She stares down the batter, pressing her mouth to the side as she thinks. “I put in eggs, the flour, the cream of tartar… what am I missing?” M’gann dips the wooden spoon in the bowl, taking out a piece of soft dough to taste.

Then it hits her. She forgot the sugar.

“Hello, Megan,” M’gann laughs to herself, shaking her head as she grabs the sugar from a nearby cupboard. No wonder the dough doesn’t taste sweet.

“Not as sweet as you, Sugar.”

The bag of sugar drops from her hands and crashes on the floor, spilling everywhere. M’gann takes a shaky breath and grasps the counter until her knuckles go pale, trying to keep the tears from coming to her eyes. She can’t. No. Today’s not her day, she doesn’t get to do this.

Try as she might to regain composure, it’s too late. Every memory, good and bad, resurrect from the back of her mind and start playing without mercy. Wally’s shameless attempts at flirting. All the trays of cookies he’d scarfed down single handedly. The terrible jokes, and the funny ones too.

M’gann slides down until she hits the floor, fighting hard to keep from crying. They’d lost before. Tula. Artemis, even if it was brief. The loss of Wally hits differently. They studied for their exams together. Every recipe she tried, he’d always volunteer to be her taste tester. Good or bad, he’d eat it enthusiastically and ensured that she knew how much she enjoyed it. He was her friend.

Wally always seemed untouchable, like he could survive anything with a smile on his face. Even now, she expects him to just dash into the room and claim that it was all some horrible joke. They’d forgive him, just like they always had before.

Her phone beeps. M’gann sniffles and wipes her eyes before picking it out of her pocket. There’s a text from Kaldur, letting her know that he’ll pick her up in an hour. She sets the phone down and lets out a shaky breath. Maybe five minutes on the floor won’t hurt. She’ll allow herself five minutes, and then she’ll pick herself back up, put on a brave face, and finish baking the cookies.

And she does just that.

Palo Alto August 13th, 15:29 PST

“For the last time, Mom, I don’t need help.” Artemis holds her phone to her ear with her shoulder and tapes up another box. “By the time you’d get here, I’ll be done.”

When the box is taped shut, Artemis pushes it towards the door. This is the last room she has to pack up. One more room, and she’s free. She sets up another empty box and begins to pack up what remains of her closet.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home? I made up your bed for you.”

Artemis nods, clearing her throat just enough so that she can answer. “I’m sure.” She can’t go home. Paula would see through her in an instant. “What, you don’t trust Jade?” she tries to joke, but the tone comes off wrong. Halfhearted.

Retreating to her sister’s new home is barely a step up from retreating to her mother’s. At least there, her friends won’t drop by unannounced. She’ll have something to do. A toddler to distract her from the heaviness that weighs her down. When Jade suggested it, she couldn’t say yes fast enough. At this point, change is welcomed. Anything to get her out of this house.

“I have to finish packing, Mom. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Before Paula can add anything else, Artemis hangs up the phone. She knows what would have come next. Pity. Concern for her wellbeing. While she appreciates the concern and she knows everyone is only trying to look out for her, she doesn’t want to hear it anymore. What she wants is to move on.

Artemis is better than she was two months ago. Wally appeared everywhere to her. She saw him in their kitchen. She heard him, singing in the shower. Brucely would whine by the door for hours, waiting for him. Finally, she gave up and camped out at Zatanna’s, if only to keep from completely shutting down.

A month ago, she officially rejoined the team. Artemis couldn’t sit still and feel sorry for herself anymore. She had to do something. Punch something. Make someone feel even an ounce of the pain that she felt every day that Wally wasn’t with her.

The rage subsided. So did the pain. Artemis knows how to tuck it away for a few hours, bury it deep under team duties, coffee dates with M’gann and Zatanna, and babysitting her niece. She grows numb. Hollow. Anything is better than feeling that pain again.  

Artemis makes quick work of her closet and tapes up the remainder of her possessions in the last box. She’s glad that she only has to worry about her things. Wally’s family had helped clear out most of his belongings shortly after the memorial.

She hoists up the box and carries it out to the living room, where a stack of boxes already sits by the door. Half of them will be going to storage. She doesn’t want to impose on her sister and brother-in-law. Not after they volunteered to house her and her dog.

Speaking of her dog, Artemis notices that it’s awfully quiet. She’s used to quiet by now, but with Brucely, it isn’t always a good thing. A small smile ghosts her lips. One time, upon leaving him alone for less than ten minutes, her and Wally had found the dog neck-deep in a massive bag of cereal. They’d stayed up all night, watching their dog upchuck Lucky Charms and vowing to keep a better handle on where they kept their food.

Even though it’s a happy memory, it leaves a bitter taste in Artemis’ mouth. Wally would want her to be happy. He’d want her to remember the good times, and use them to find her strength and move on. Maybe one day, she will. One day, when she isn’t angry, or hurt, or numb.

“Brucely?” she calls out, whistling short-after. No response. That’s never a good sign. “Come on, Boy. We can go on one last walk before we have to go.” Still nothing. He must be up to something, Brucely always comes out running when she so much as mentions the word ‘walk’.

Artemis checks the bathroom. Not there. The kitchen is empty. So is her bedroom. She keeps calling his name, but Brucely remains hidden. Finally, after a solid ten minutes of looking, she finds him inside a closet, lying down pitifully.

“There you are,” she sighs in relief, bending down to pet him. “What’s the matter, don’t you want to go live with Jade?”

The dog stares up at her, reflecting her own feelings in his sad brown eyes. Artemis laughs and sits next to him. “Yeah, me neither. But you’ll like it there. Lian will love you. Roy will probably give you extra treats. And Jade…” she bites her lip. “Jade will get over it.”

Brucely huffs, making himself more comfortable on the floor. Artemis notices that he’s guarding something behind him. “What’cha got there, buddy?” she asks, peering closer to look. Behind Brucely is a box. Seems like she missed something.

Artemis carefully moves her dog and takes the small box into her palms. It’s not one of her boxes. Judging by the torn edges and the crumpled, smush state of it, the box is one of Wally’s. Taking a deep breath, she opens it.

Wally and her talked about marriage. They both knew it was an inevitability, but had decided to wait until after college. Wally wanted a huge party, with everyone on the Team and the League invited. Loud music. A massive cake. The whole five yard. Artemis was never really the type of girl to plan out her wedding, so she went along with his ideas, if only because she liked seeing how excited he got about everything.

Now she wishes they hadn’t waited. She wishes that they’d run away, eloped, made the most of their short amount of time together before it was too late. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe he’d still be alive and here with her.

He isn’t though. And now Artemis sits on the floor, holding a ring that was supposed to be hers. All the stitches keeping her together tear apart at the sight of this one little ring.

Brucely whines and sidles up to her before placing his head in her lap. His drool ruins her pants, but she doesn’t care. Artemis leans forward and hugs him, doing her best not to cry, fighting hard to keep away the thoughts of what might have been.

Poseidonis October 30th, 8:19 UTC-2

Of all the strange holidays Kaldur has experienced on the surface world, none confuses him more than Halloween. He isn’t too much a fan of sweets. And the custom of knocking on strangers’ doors, begging for candy baffles him to no end. His team members tried to explain it to him on several occasions, but clearly the holiday is beyond his understanding.

He prefers to spend the holiday back home, visiting his parents, his old friends. Kaldur always found it a better use of his time than partaking in the festivities; he only had so many opportunities to return home, and this was one he always allowed himself to have.

This year, however, is different. Artemis texted him and asked him to join her and Will for his daughter’s first Halloween. At least, the first one they were both there for. He’d tried to decline, but her and Will both sent him a mass of text messages full of pictures from the pouting toddler, and really, what choice did he have? Kaldur has a difficult time denying Artemis much of anything, these days.

As a result, Kaldur plans his trip home a day earlier. For a brief moment, he considers skipping it entirely. Then he remembers his parents, and decides he’s hurt them enough for one lifetime. So, like the good son he is, he returns home and lets his mother shower him with affection. Cal asks him a plethora of questions about how things have changed on the surface world, and Kaldur dutifully answers every single one. When it comes time to leave, he tries his best not to think too hard about how tight his mother hugs him.

Upon leaving his parents, he ponders visiting Queen Mera, and her son. It has been ages since he’s seen little Artur. Kaldur still remembers holding the baby, only a few days after his birth. Artur must be so much bigger now, and the thought puts a smile on his face.

Just as he’s about to head in that direction, Kaldur stops himself. He probably won’t be welcome there. King Orin and him are on good terms, but that doesn't mean he has forgiven him enough to let him near his family. “No,” he muses to himself, “perhaps not today.”

So instead, he swims in the direction of the Zeta tube, keeping his gaze straight ahead. If he just focuses on reaching his destination, he won’t see the Atlanteans who stare at him, and whisper. He won’t hear the vicious words they mutter under his breath, calling him a traitor, the bastard of Black Manta, and worse. Kaldur doesn’t mind it too much. It’s all deserved. The people have every right to feel this way. He was surprised so many had forgiven him as quickly as they had.

“Kaldur, is that you?”

He stops swimming and turns around. It’s Garth. Next to him is a man he remembers seeing, but doesn’t recognize immediately. “Old friend,” he greets, holding out his hand. Garth hesitates, just for a moment, and then grabs his wrist in the usual greeting. Kaldur does his best not to let it get to him.

“I didn’t expect to see you. Are you heading back?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“That’s too bad,” Garth says, letting go of Kaldur’s wrist. “It would have been nice if you could join us.”

“Us?”

“My apologies, I haven’t introduced my friend. Kaldur, this is Wyynde. He was in our class, back at the Conservatory.”

Kaldur turns his attention to Wyynde. Ah, now he recognizes him. Wyynde, the purist. “You were with Oceanmaster,” he blurts before he realizes. No sooner does he say it does his face flush with embarrassment. “I… what I meant was—”

Wyynde gives Kaldur a wry smile. “And you were with Black Manta. But hopefully, those collaborations will remain in the past. Now I am on King Orin’s guard.”  

“I see.” Kaldur clears his throat, attempting and failing to hide his embarrassment. “I apologize if I was rude.”

Wyynde waves away Kaldur’s concerns with a lighthearted chuckle. “Not at all. I appreciate the candor.”

Kaldur’s face is still warm, but he knows well enough that it isn’t from embarrassment. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. Not since… “Well, I must take my leave. I have urgent matters to attend to back on the surface world.”

Helping his friends wrestle a stubborn toddler into a polyester costume and tote her around to collect candy she won't eat. An urgent matter indeed.

Garth rests a hand on Kaldur’s shoulder. “Are you positive you cannot find time to accompany us? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“I do not wish to intrude,” Kaldur makes up quickly. “You and Wyynde must be quite busy.”

“Nonsense! I have heard so many stories about the famed Aqualad. I would be honored if you accompanied us.”

It’s on the tip of Kaldur’s tongue to say no. He should say no. There’s nothing he can gain from getting close to either of them.

“Dude, you can’t be hung up on Tula forever. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Uh, and by that I mean Atlanteans. Not like, actual fish. Please don’t fall in love with an actual fish.”

The memory is so deep, Kaldur almost can’t believe he recalls it. It’s been a little while since he’s thought about his fallen friend. There was so much to do back then, he packed his feelings about the matter and set them aside, to be handled at a later time.

Still, as much as it hurts him to remember, there must be a reason he hears Wally’s voice inside his head. Wally had always been unsympathetic towards his misfortune with Tula. On countless occasions, he’d tried setting him up on a number of unsuccessful blind dates. None of his tactics had worked, but Kaldur appreciated the attempt.

If Wally were here, he’d tell him to go. There can be no other reason why the memory had surfaced. Staying behind, even for a few more hours, would be the very least he could do for him.

“Well…” Kaldur smiles, then nods. “I suppose just a little while will not hurt.”

Watchtower November 11th, 00:01 EDT

Dick sits in front of Wally’s hologram, cross legged. He’d never missed his friend’s birthday before. Grief be damned, he isn't keen on starting now. His heart is heavy. None of his friends even know that he’s here. He hasn't talked to anyone, really talked to anyone, in months.  

After Wally ceased, he needed time. Running the team, the team he, Wally and Kaldur had started, didn't feel right. So he left. He came back for the memorial, and to officially hand the team back to Kaldur, but after that, he officially disappeared. He’s done with teams. At least, for the time being.

He never pictured living his life without Wally by his side. Through thick and thin, they’d been there for each other. They’d fought together, and laughed together. It doesn’t feel right to go on living without him.

But life moves on. Dick distracts himself from his feelings by diving headfirst into detective work, letting the late nights and constant travel take away from the unresolved pain. He watches his friends move on with their lives. Kaldur accepts the role of Aquaman, and M’gann is appointed as team leader. Conner still helps with the team, and Artemis enrolls in a Masters program and spends her free time babysitting her niece. Everyone moves on, together.

All except him.

To give them credit, everyone tried to look out for him. Texts. Calls. Surprise visits when they knew he was home. Barbara comes over more often than she needs to, and even though he isn’t always mentally present, he’s grateful. Still, he keeps everyone at a distance. He just prefers to process things on his own. It’s nothing personal.

Wally’s hologram judges him from above. Dick lets out a shaky breath, looking up at his former friend. “I know,” he sighs. “I’m an asshole.”

From his backpack, Dick pulls out an assortment of chips, every ridiculous flavor he could get his hands on. Wally liked trying the different flavors. Somewhere on his computer, he kept a masterlist of every one he’s tried, and their rankings. “You won’t believe which flavors I found this time. Fried chicken flavored potato chips. Can you believe it? They don’t taste bad, but they’d definitely score low on your yum-o-meter,” he tries to tease. His voice comes off thick.

Dick sets the chips down, his hands shaking. “I miss you, Wall. I know I haven’t really shown it. I know I’ve been an awful friend, an awful person… but what did you expect? You and me, we were supposed to go down together.” He balls his fists, looking down.

The hologram doesn’t respond. Doesn’t move. Just stares ahead, with that same, dorky smile.

After a few minutes, Dick stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulders. This isn't helping. He did his diligence, he visited, he kept the tradition. But right now, it hurts too much to be here.

“Happy Birthday, Wally,” he mutters, before leaving the hologram behind for good.  

[ares-trilling]

After being set upon by a hunter James flee’s the scene with silver in his system, unknowingly sending him barrelling towards Ares property. @detectivegoldstein @artemisxcortes @evanixkamat

James: Everything hurt as James lay alone in the alley.  Nose broken, chest heaving, and a fever beginning to set in from the graze of the silver dagger.  Scrambling up, all the wolf could think about was getting away.  Pulling his phone out his pocket, he swore at the shattered screen.  It was done for.

Disoriented, James walked in the first direction he could think of, his head swirling with disjointed thoughts.  Eventually he reached the edge of the forest and his inner wolf took over, finding solace under the canopy of the trees.  Feeling increasingly hot and paranoia feeding into fear, the wolf ran.  He ran and ran and ran, trying to escape from the shadows, from the invisible enemies hot on his trail.

In his panic the wolf ran head long into a garbage can, having unknowingly reached the open property of someone's house.  James' ears rang and his head swam as the silver circulated through his blood.

Artemis: Artemis sighed and shook her head as the man lay in the alley. She moved into the shadows to see if he'd get up. She knew wolves weren't that easy to take down and she wanted to follow him. To make sure he didn't go off and hurt anyone.

When he transformed into a wolf before her very eyes, she knew she wouldn't be able to catch him. She swore under her breath and shook her head. She should have put a tracker on him or something. She groaned and rushed back to her bike to head home to try and do some more research about him. He'd have to turn back to his human form again and when he did, she'd be ready.

Ares: Ares opened the door to let Nova out. "I'll be right back, I'm just going to run her around the edge of the property so she can get some of her energy out." He called to Evani before stepping out into the cool December air. Nova trotted off ahead already sniffing around. A small way away from the house Nova stepped causing Ares to pause too. A low growl emerged from the dog, her hackles up and tail down. She was a friendly dog so to see her on alert was worrying. "Nova? What's wrong?"

Nova barked, backing up, her ears flat to her head. She was practically belly to the floor as she continued to move away from whatever was in the shadows just beyond. Figuring it was a badger or something Ares moved forward to chase the creature off. An action he would later come to regret.

James: The barking rang in James' ears, flooding his senses.  The fever was starting to grow, the fear along with it.  As something came running towards him the wolf lashed out with his claws, knocking down whoever or whatever was trying to attack him.  Teeth dug immediately into flesh as his hind paws raked across his attacker's body.  Safe.  He was making himself safe.

Ares: It was not, as previously assumed, a badger. Ares didn't even have time to stop before the wolf pounced out of the shadows, claws scraping down his chest. He let out a cry as he fell backwards though it transformed into a scream as the claws dug in and teeth sank into his shoulder. Pain seared down Ares' body as his vision swam with panic. Lashing out himself he beat his bloody hands against the wolf, trying to get the beast off him while he still had strength.

Managing to shove the wolf off for only a moment, Ares rolled onto this front which only caused him more pain. Barely able to make sense of the world he tried to see where Nova was but the white of her coat wasn't in sight anymore. He could hear her though, still barking. The sound was different. A series of short curt barks used for alerting. She was trying to get help.(edited)

Evani: Evani woke to a sound of Nova barking loudly. She reached out to the space next to her and started to panic. Oh, god. She thought. He was here. Her ex-husband found her. How? Why? It had been days without a worry? Did the wards not work? The witch shot up in bed and rushed down the stairs and in the direction of the barking.

She glanced around and only saw Nova and rushed towards her. When she finally saw him, she let out a scream. "Ares! Oh god, oh my god!" She reached towards him and glanced down, he was bleeding. Evani frantically looked around the property, tears in her eyes as she pulled him off the ground. "We need to get inside, okay?" She told him and began to shush Nova.

James: Blood drowning his senses, James ran back into the woods, briefly perking up as he heard a scream.  No, it was nothing.  He found somewhere he could hole up and lick his wounds, though the ever growing fever was making it hard to focus on much.  He knew he needed to get home.  But which way was that?  He couldn't remember.

Ares: His whole body felt like it was burning. He barely had control of his body as his vision swam and his ears were ringing. Ares wasn't sure how he was moved really, his legs felt like they had lost all their strength and yet somehow they moved. Even though the nights air was freezing he felt like he was feverish and the longer he was conscious the worse it got. Eventually he fell upon something soft but by this point he'd lost the ability to tell where he was. The burning had only worsened and his head was pounding. Blood loss. It must be blood loss he thought weakly before he passed out and his mind went quiet.

[theonlinemuse]

And now it’s Yolanda’s turn to have a headcanon post! @freckledpianoman and me wanted to contribute more Yolanda Montez content to the tags now that the season finale has aired: 

Yolanda’s family follows Mexican naming conventions so her full name is Yolanda Pilar Montez Zurita. Montez is her father’s last name while Zurita is her mother’s maiden name. And yes, Zurita is for Juan Zurita

Nicknames are also a tradition in the Montez family. Yolanda’s parents called her mija and nena before their estrangement while her maternal grandmother and her little brother call her by her diminutive name, Yoyi 

Courtney’s absolutely delighted when she first hears Yolanda’s abuelita call her Yoyi. She thinks it’s adorable. Yolanda just fondly rolls her eyes when Court whisper yells Yoyi at her all starry eyed 

She’s third generation Mexican American. Her maternal grandparents, the Zuritas were originally from Puebla and they came to Blue Valley in the 1970s where their daughters, Maria and Mimi (Yolanda’s mom and aunt) were born and raised. Yolanda grew up speaking Spanish, but she’s not fluent like her parents. She sometimes blanks out trying to remember certain words 

“Man, I don’t even know how to begin explaining this in Spanish.”

Yolanda admits that she’s not much of a cook, but she grew up helping her abuelita make traditional dishes and as a result the only two dishes that Yolanda’s capable of making are mole poblano and chiles en nogada 

She shares these recipes with Beth and they eventually start cooking together in Beth’s kitchen while Chuck blares music requests in the background 

Yolanda usually wears her hair in double braids because her abuelito used to braid her hair in the morning before school. He always claimed that braids were the one style he could confidently do out of all the hairstyles that Yolanda’s abuelita taught him 

She does start branching out after Courtney and Beth start helping her experiment with different hairstyles. Yolanda does styles like half up or regular space buns, topknots, braided low ponytails, and she rarely wears her hair down 

Courtney once accidentally dyed Yolanda’s hair red when she was trying to give her highlights. Artemis helped fixed it (thanks to the time she accidentally went blonde for a month) but Yolanda ended up with ombre hair for a few weeks 

For her quinceañera, Yolanda took inspiration from old photos of her abuelita and silver screen bombshells from the Golden Age of Mexican cinema 

Yolanda started learned how to box from her abuelito when she was nine. He was a former lightweight boxing champion in Puebla and he taught boxing classes at a school that he founded with a fellow boxer (who Yolanda later discovers to be Henry Grant, the first Wildcat’s father) after he retired. It became their bonding time

He died when she was fourteen and she joined the Blue Valley High boxing team as a way to honour his memory. She even adopted his boxing nickname, The Mauler 

Boxing wasn’t the only sport that she did growing up. Yolanda’s mom signed her up for ballet classes when she was in kindergarten and she was good enough to attend summer classes at the American Ballet Academy during middle school, starring in a few small productions like Coppélia and The Taming of the Shrew 

She was forced to quit ballet after the fallout with Cindy leaking her pics and she was closed off for weeks because she missed dancing. After joining the JSA, Beth invited her to sit in on her ballroom dance lesson because “I know it’s not ballet exactly, but you get antsy if you don’t dance, I totally get that” 

Yolanda only intended to go to the one lesson, but after partnering up with Beth for a not-so-serious tango and laughing harder than she has for months, she went back to the next lesson. And the next one and by the time the fourth lesson rolls around, Yolanda decides to sign up for the same classes as Beth 

Yolanda can eat spicy food as long as there’s just ground spices in it, but she cannot handle chilies, much to her dismay. Every time she accidentally eats one, her eyes water and you can literally see her trying to hold in her reaction going, “nope, I’m not gonna do this, I’m not going to have my ancestors laugh their collective asses off just because I can’t handle a damn pepper” 

She eventually caves when Courtney and Beth offer her their chocolate milk 

Because she was raised Catholic, Yolanda has a habit of eating fish and shellfish instead of meat on Fridays. Fridays are when the JSA go out to eat instead of staying in the cafeteria and it’s Yolanda’s day to indulge in seafood. Courtney is still surprised how Yolanda can put away two giant king crabs like it’s no big deal, their bodies alone are bigger than Rick’s face 

Yolanda’s favourites are coconut curry steamed clams, grilled shrimp, and the crab boil, all washed down with a raspberry lemon agua fresca 

Her love for seafood has earned her an annoying, yet affectionate nickname from her cousins, “fish head”

“Mauler Montez, huh? You should’ve gone with El Mero, it’s much more on the nose.” 

Courtney and Beth are the only people that Yolanda will share her seafood feast with because a) she gets to feed Beth for once and b) she knows how much Courtney loves shrimp 

Rick can starve and Artemis keeps getting her hand smacked away every time she tries to sneak food 

“It was one freaking scallop!” “Aren’t you allergic? Do you want to break out into hives again?” 

When Beth first brought Artemis to sit at the loser’s table, Yolanda was a little wary of her because she’s known for tackling football players twice her height and she’s pretty sure her parents are Sportsmaster and Tigress. Now Yolanda and Artemis are snarky, overly competitive friends who arm wrestle and and have each others’ backs on the football team 

Artemis managed to convince Yolanda to join as an alternate member since football season is right after boxing season and the team could use more girls

Artemis is still trying to convince Beth and Courtney to join as well 

“You guys need something other than the JSA, you can get all your frustrations out in football.” 

Courtney and Beth drag Rick to games to cheer them on 

They both have huge sweet tooths and Artemis is constantly trying to steal the tres leches cake and chocolate flan that Yolanda brings to school. And it’s often a race to get the last one of whatever baked good Beth has brought with her that day 

And as huge tomboys as they are, Yolanda and Artemis are arguably the best at doing makeup out of all the girls. Artemis likes experimenting with eyeliner and smokey eyeshadows while Yolanda knows a lot about lip products thanks to her abuelita, who rocks red lipstick and berry flavoured lip gloss well into her seventies 

Yolanda means “violet” and she was named as such because her landscape architect mother was working on a Phillipine violet garden during her pregnancy and there was a pot of Persian violets in the OBGYN’s office the day the Montezes found out they were having a girl 

Even the earrings that her grandparents gave Yolanda for her first communion were a pair of violet shaped stud earrings 

Her abuelita even gave her a pressed violet pendant choker for her fifteenth birthday 

Yolanda is a huge horror movie fan. It was a tradition that she shared with her dad since no one else in the family can stand them. Now she keeps trying to get Beth to watch horror movies with her despite the “Halloween only tradition” because Beth’s the only other person who would survive a horror movie 

Beth spends half the time clinging to Yolanda when they’re not booing at horror cliches and trying to predict which character is dying next while berating fictional life choices 

Courtney and Rick are in the other room pouting, trying and failing to catch up on homework

On the flip side, Beth makes Yolanda watch cartoons with her after horror movies because between school and the JSA, they need other ways to relax and unwind. Yolanda ends up loving The Owl House 

“I started watching it because Luz looks like me. I kept watching because it’s so good.” “Yolanda! You did get hooked, you big nerd!” 

Beth also finds out that Yolanda is also really into She-Ra, which may or may not have to do with how Catra and Adora look like Yolanda and Courtney. Beth doesn’t stop grinning and nudging her for the rest of the night when she sees Yolanda blushing over Catra and Adora 

“You guys could dress up as them for Halloween!” 

Despite their different tastes, they both enjoy true crime and history shows. They’re both fans of Drunk History and the Drunk Mystery Halloween episodes 

And Beth is surprised to learn that Yolanda has a soft spot for period dramas as well. The both love Hidden Figures and The Personal History of David Copperfield 

Yolanda is what Artemis likes to refer to as a distinguished bi. She knew that she was bi since she was fourteen when her abuelito pointed out that the way she acted around the very pretty ballerina in her dance class was the exact same as the way she acted around the very charming baseball player 

“Abuelito, oh my god! Did anyone else notice?” “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, mija. You just have very good taste in people, just like your Tia Mimi.” “Tia Mimi likes girls too?” 

And thus, her abuelito technically became the first person she came out to 

She’s out to only two other people in her family, her little brother and her abuelita. It’s not like her parents would be disappointed in her for being bisexual (the congregation that the Montezes go to is fairly open) but Yolanda wasn’t able to talk with them about it because of her estrangement with them 

Whenever she gets a crush on someone, she does this little honking laugh that makes Rick look at her in a mix of horror and confusion

“What the hell, is that your laugh? Stop flirting and help me find Hootie before Beth finds out he’s missing.”

It’s what clues him in to Yolanda’s crush on Courtney 

Due to her estrangement from her parents, Yolanda didn’t think about having a quinceañera, but the JSA decides to throw her one with help from Yolanda’s abuelita, Socorro “Coco” Zurita, who’s played by Adriana Barraza. Aside from Tia Mimi who’s played by Marisa Ramirez and Yolanda’s cousins Josefa and Charo, played by Lee Rodriguez and Herizen Guardiola, Abuelita Coco is pretty much the only other family member besides Alex who still talks with her and she will make sure that her granddaughter has a wonderful quinces 

Yolanda was never really a big fan of big, poofy dresses because they remind her of the itchy netted dresses that she had to wear for her first communion and other big church events she had to go to as a kid. So Beth and abuelita Coco decide to surprise her by making a skirted jumpsuit instead 

And while she doesn't wear heels that often, joining Beth at her dance classes helps ensure that she rocks the Wildcat blue shoes that Courtney picks out for her 

Beth, Courtney, and Artemis all pitch in to get a cat eye necklace for Yolanda to wear at her quinces. Yolanda denies crying when they give it to her

“Are you crying?” “It’s my allergies acting up, no big deal.”

And instead of the father-daughter dance, the JSA just converges on Yolanda for one big slow group dance One Day at a Time style 

Yolanda and Courtney have more than a few slow dances together 

She has nicknames for everyone in the JSA. Courtney is Shooting Star, Beth is Sunshine, Artemis is Hawkeye, and Rick is John Bender 

“Seriously, Yolanda? You couldn’t have been more creative.” “Would you rather I call you One Minute Man?” “Ugh, just don’t say it in front of Beth.” 

Yolanda knows so many Selena songs by heart because abuelita Coco is a huge fan. She grew up singing along to Bidi Bidi Bom Bom and Como La Flor and it’s almost a Pavlovian response to sing along to a Selena song whenever she hears one on the radio during JSA car trips 

Courtney and Beth totally sing along with her while Artemis heckles them and Rick just groans and tells the girls to keep it down when he’s trying to drive 

Yolanda is the only JSA member that Beth’s goggles will work for, but she still can’t make the staff glow. However, she’s the only person (other than Courtney and Pat) who’s able to order it around 

“Wait, why is she able to order it around?” “Maybe because it knows Yolanda is a boss.” 

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Dichotomy

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~ 3,500

Summary: Bucky’s in the poetry feels. And his own feels.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Dedication: I’ve had a couple readers express their interest in mythology and the like, either in reblogs, replies, or private messages, so this is dedicated to them (you know who you are) Thanks! :)

A/N: This was taken from my mythology cultivation (I mentioned it in Poetry (this is kinda a part II to that?)), so I have no author credits to the poem :( please let me know if anyone does! This one is also more of Bucky’s view on his relationship with the reader. Sorry it took me so long to write, I wasn’t sure where to take this for a while!

...

You were a myth.

You had to be. Bucky was convinced.

You were beautiful. But he would never mistake your beauty for stupidity – not for naivety, vulnerability, or even weakness.

And They Said Aphrodite Was Soft: Smear your lips in blood, dust your eyelids with stars. Hang rubies around your neck, wear a nude leather dress. Kiss him hard, make him groan. Rip him apart, muscle from bone. Breath in, breath out. Begin step one.

Such a beautiful creature could never be so cruel. He saw the way you moved so gracefully on the battlefield and the way just a single touch from you could melt the heart of any man. You had no tolerance for the men that talked down to you and, sure, you were an exquisite creature, but your prowess that lied beneath the surface – that could tear any unassuming man limb from limb – was what drew him to you.

You were resilient. Despite what anyone may think, you were one of the strongest on the team.

I have wondered what it was like for Aphrodite. For Hera, Medusa, Artemis, Athena. For them to be worshiped, feared, sung of and powerful. What did it feel like to fall into myth and legend? To be remembered mostly for the men they loved, or the ones who fought for them when they didn’t need it, didn’t ask. To be pushed into the corner of the bar, to only be talked about when someone else decided, and to watch their daughters, their children of the earth, fall to the same fate.

Despite your effort to write your own story, to be the best damn Avenger you could be, there would always be hurtles in your way, whether that be the media shoving you into the shadows of Captain America and Iron Man, your inherent lack of any sort of super-ability, or you almost too innocent-looking appearance: how could you hold your own when you look like you can’t even open a jar by yourself? It was the same for those before you, women being washed away in history as lab assistants or had their valor just plain stolen from them. It couldn’t be you and you wouldn’t let it.

You were hurt. Years of physical pain, emotional torment, and past abuse took its toll on you. After all, you were only human.

Dearest Medusa I am so sorry no one told you that the Gods could be so cruel. You had beauty so unlike the rest. Your mother deemed it a blessing. A blessing that would one day deal your curse. Dearest Medusa I am so sorry that no one told you the love of a god is as good as the hatred from a god. Dearest Medusa I am so sorry that he pillaged your body in the temple of goddess meant to shelter you. Dearest Medusa I am so sorry that Athena in all of her wisdom turned blind eye to your pain. Dearest Medusa I am so sorry that no one ever told you the gods could be so cruel.

You’d known what it’s like to have been cast away in your time of need. Your strength somehow came around to backfire on you. You’d been so strong your whole life, there’s no way you could be upset – especially about something so small. You’d been discredited to your own feelings. When you cried out for help, you never received, instead met with neglect and following misfortune. And that’s what built you, but that’s also what broke you.

It was only through poetry that Bucky realized there were two sides to your story – every story, he’d supposed.

And goddamn, there were two sides to his story.

He’d wondered if one day, such myths will be written about him. Would he be seen as the monster: a harsh, unforgiving, unrelenting man – whose true tragedy is unbeknownst to most? Only after years of examination and internal debate could change anyone’s perspective on him.

But he knew they’d be writing about you someday. Hell, it seems like they already had been. The most celestial being in the universe and he just happens to be lucky enough to share a bed with you. He’s the one who knows your backstory, knows your own tragedy, knows the strength that its built. It’s almost like he’s been studying you – and he would if he could. He applies every beautiful book or poem he’s read to you: to your grace, your poise, your struggles.

You meant more to him than words could describe; not the likes of Homer, Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe, nor even Jane Austen could even capture half your complexity. He didn’t think there were so many layers to life. There was only one way he could see himself: damaged. But from the day he met you, you’d proven quite the opposite. He had depth, substance, an intricacy that only you could unravel. You’d welcomed him into your open arms, taking him under your wing as you showed him the ropes of the twenty-first century. That’s how it started, anyway. You’d shown him the internet, the DVR, how his phone works, plastic Tupperware. The world had become quite a different place, but it wasn’t just the material objects that shifted either.

People seemed to be a bit more complex than Bucky remembered – and he didn’t know whether it was a twenty-first century thing or if he just hadn’t been around people in such a long time. It took a lot of questions, a lot of research, and a lot of late-night discussions before Bucky finally grasped the concept you’d been trying to instill in him. And one night it just made so much sense. It was in everything you read – every novel and poem – everything you wrote, and everything you’d been teaching him.

Bucky’s night of clarity consisted of a nightmare, two giant mugs filled to the brim with hot chocolate, and some frighteningly serious pillowtalk. “You don’t have to let your past define you, Bucky,” you whispered, before taking a sip of your drink. Bucky’s head rested on your chest, the two of you laying in bed, wide awake after having been woken up by Bucky screaming in the middle of the night. Your hand ran through his hair, strands stuck together and tangled up, tacky with sweat. His eyes were shut, his focus being the vibrations of your chest as you spoke. “You aren’t what they made you.”

You’d seen the side of him that nobody else saw; the soft side of him. It was the half of him that the media would never portray, that his closest peers – his housemates, his team members – would never see, the part that even he forgot existed.

Hell, it was hard for him to remember how to be kind – how to be vulnerable. It took years of physical torture and mental torment for Hydra to beat it out of him. The majority of his life, he’d gone without physical affection, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, any kind of touch that didn’t result in a bloody nose.

That wasn’t the only issue. He had to overcome his own bravado. It took him years of solitude and half-assed coping mechanisms for Bucky to come to terms with it himself. Even after jumping over the first hurdle of undoing Hydra’s psychological damage, he had to rewrite his own programming. He never confided in anyone in the Avengers; not the therapist and psychologist Tony brought in, not Clint – a college familiar with being a victim of mind-control, not Natasha – someone who had understood similar hardships, not even Steve – his childhood best friend. He’d come from a time where you would simply grin and bear it.

Sounds cliché, sure, but he couldn’t help it. It was hard not to act this way when even those closest to him – those who shared similar trauma – acted in the same manner. He’d never seen Clint bring it up. Natasha never spoke of her past, or let it affect her work or well-being – in fact, she made jokes about it. And Steve? Forget it. He was one of those who used his past as motivation and to share to kids for “life lessons” (Bucky could gag just thinking about it). Anyway, where did that leave Bucky? With no options but to suck it up and not let it bother him.

When you started spending multiple nights in a row with him, he knew you’d get him to confess about his past, his feelings. Bucky hated feelings. In the thirties, the only feeling he liked was to have a woman wrapped around his finger. He supposed that’s all he had to worry about, back then, anyway.

Now, he was the one wrapped around his finger. So much so, in fact, that he let you twirl his hair around in your hand, stroke his stubble with the backs of your knuckles, and press your cold feet against his legs while the two of you were sleeping (supposed to be sleeping, at least). “Remember what I told you?” You murmured, pulling him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes to meet yours peering down over him, as you now sat propped on one elbow to lean your head over his. “About it being okay for you to be upset?”

He rolled his eyes and then quickly shot you a soft apology. Don’t dismiss your emotions, it was what you’d told him numerous times before. He wasn’t supposed to be acting like nothing was bothering him; he promised you that he’d tell you anything on his mind. It was easy when the only thing that was on his mind was you naked in his mind. This was way harder, he mentally groaned.

It was hard for him to come to terms with his past. With all of the terrible things he’d done? There was no way he’d ever be able to accept it, to forget about it, forgive himself for it. There are two sides to every story, you’d reminded him once.

Bucky’s two sides: assassin, murderer, beast; victim, vulnerable, manipulated.

He couldn’t even come to terms with that. He wasn’t manipulated. Manipulation carries the connotation that he still had control. Bucky wasn’t manipulated into doing any of the things he did – into committing those atrocities. Nobody used their cunning wit and skills to get him to willingly commit such crimes; Bucky wasn’t convinced by someone to go against his free will and better judgement. No, that right was stolen from him – his free will.

He didn’t even have an adjective to describe himself.

But he had others who could describe him on his behalf.

Name one hero who was happy. Was Heracles, remembered in the stars, satisfied with his life? Risen to glory and fame, but at what cost? The memory of his wife and child’s blood on his hands, their cries etched in his head. Ask Daedalus, whose cleverness was no match for his love for Icarus, if he was happy to escape confinement. To soar amongst the heavens only to watch his son plummet to his death, perished by his own creation. And Achilles, what of him, was he happy? The boy with the golden feet and lion-heart, who upheld battle for a decade, to watch his beloved slain? To live out the end of his days grieving, yearning for death, was he truly happy? Once again, I must ask: Name one hero who was happy.

It validated his thoughts, at lease. No matter how much people could grow to love him, how accepted he’d be into society, how much he’d be celebrated, he’d still never forget – never be happy, haunted forever by his past barbarity, the lives he took, his loved ones gone. His own life and power ripped away from him, missing from his life for so long that he didn’t know how to live anymore.

He’d found you, at least. You gave him some semblance of his life and freedom back. But he couldn’t help but think, deep down, so low that he’d never be able to muster up the words to say it aloud, that one day you’d be taken away from him. He didn’t know if it would be on the battlefield or if it would be karma finally coming around – but he was scared.

But, despite you being totally oblivious to Bucky’s deepest thoughts (although, you were fairly intuitive. He assumed you’d already known this was his greatest fear), you’d taught him that it was okay to be scared. It was okay to be scared, vulnerable, and hurting. That must have been more accepted these days. While Bucky was never able to marry back in his original time, he wasn’t even sure if this was something husband and wife talked about. He’d remembered hearing stories of his war-buddies back in the trenches. They wrote home to their wives, telling them everything was okay, nobody was hurting, all was as well as could be a – when the opposite couldn’t be truer. It was his job to make sure everything was okay in the home, and part of that required staying strong; being the immovable force that held the family steady. And he looked up to those men more than anything. Fighting a goddamn war, writing their wives in a matter that wouldn’t make them worry.

Now that wasn’t necessary. Women had embraced their strength and independence. He was relieved, to be honest, he knew he’d never compare to his own father – not after everything he’d endured. But maybe twenty-first century life was where he belonged, anyway. So that he could have you next to him. Outspoken, rowdy, cutthroat, bold, passionate you.

You understood Bucky’s hesitation to open up to you. It took him a long time to get acclimated to his new environment, to people, to having emotions – let alone expressing them. That was okay with you. You had nothing but time. You’d tried early on to express to him the fact that his past is what gave him his strength today. He’s been through so much during the past one hundred years of his life that it would be easy for him to just quit, throw in the towel of life, give up and spend the rest of his days spending his days in Wakanda raising goats. But every day, he found the strength to get up, return to the clutches of Hydra and fight them one by one with the promise of the world one day being free from their grasp.

That resonated with him a bit. To come to terms with his struggles because they made him who he is. Not necessarily in a bad way: in the way that he could realize how much he overcame in his long life. He was a survivor.

“Yes,” he whispered, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.

He wasn’t sure how you were able to resonate with him on such a level. It was probably the way you talked to him. You treated him like a human. Not that the others didn’t necessarily, but they just treated him differently – like they were afraid of him. Like anything they said might trigger him, they cowered in fear when he walked into a room, they avoided him at all costs. But you, you treated him like he was fragile – like if you held him, he’d crack.

He smiled at the thought, holding back a laugh. That’s the exact same way he held you.

Like you were made of porcelain. And that mutual consideration just drew him to you in awe. There was something so inherently soft about you. You were so genuinely kind to everyone, always lending a helping hand, putting everyone else’s needs above yours. He hadn’t known somebody like that for a long time; since he was a young kid in Brooklyn.

No Mortal Words Describe Her: Mortal, on the ground, drenched in sweat and tears: Are you a dream? Are you a nightmare? Aphrodite, baring her teeth, drenched in blood and ash: I am everything in between.

You were a dichotomy. He didn’t understand it. He met you on the battlefield, killing Hydra agents. Your hair was pulled up tight, eyes wide but eyebrows narrowed. You threw your punches with such force; you were kicking men through walls and windows. You’d looked as if you were born and bred to kill – which, in all truth, you were. You’d accepted that fact and you held your head high. He was intimidated by you, and he loved that fact that everyone else was, too. And you were proud of it. There was nothing you cared about in those moments more than making the scum of the earth pay for the atrocities they had committed, for all the years they had Bucky Barnes locked up.

But then it was him laying on your bedroom floor, reading poetry you had scribbled on scraps of paper, littered around the room; some laid out neatly beside you, others crumpled up and tossed in the corner. Bucky liked those ones best – the ones you’d discarded in a frantic, haphazard manner, too busy to even aim for the garbage can. He’d felt that those were the ones that described you best: they were raw, real, undeniable; they came from the deepest depths of your mind, the part that took you hours of searching to even skim the surface. It was the truest form of yourself, and Bucky was lucky enough to have been granted permission to read.

All Antigone wanted was to bury her dead. How many times do women hang themselves in the shadow of their fathers’ sins? I am no exception, I flinch at comparisons, the easiest way to unmake me is to throw his name over me like an old mantle of anger and hate: I’ve worked too hard to be broken down by a story I had no hand in, braced my arms against flood and falling sky and sometimes I get so tired. But I am more than my father’s venom tongue. I am my grandmother’s eyes, my grandfather’s bleeding heart, I am the daughter of women stronger than any Greek playwright could forgive.

Just as it did for Bucky, it took you time to open up. To delve into your past was a process in and of its own. It was when he found this poem crinkled beside your bookshelf that he finally asked about it. This one felt a little too personal to just ignore. He recrumpled the piece of paper and tossed it towards you, landing in your lap. Unfolding it, you skim the words, tossing it beside you once finished, continuing your current work. “Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence that surrounded the two of you.

At first, you’d said no and simply continued writing. How were you supposed to tell him the stories of your so-called family? The pains you’d suffered as a child. You’d continued on your poem about Achilles: the strong, brave, invincible, soldier; the broken, touch starved, damaged man. You huffed to yourself and threw your pen down. What kind of girlfriend would you be to make Bucky relive his own terror without at least reciprocating – especially when you knew it took so much for him to let you in in the first place.

It was a long night after that, setting up the timeline of your life. And everyone had their own right to deal with their past in their own way; each memory hurts in its own particular way, and it is up to you with how to deal with it. But your past is what makes you, and that’s what you’d told Bucky days before. It doesn’t define you, but it gives you something to fight for, something to live for.

It took years of explaining it to him for you to finally find it true for yourself.

…

But he was pulled back into the present once your hands pulled apart an exceptionally tight knot from his hair. He brought his eyes back to meet yours, your face illuminated by the now rising sun shining behind the white shades. Your eyes were half lidded, face completely relaxed, gazing down at Bucky with a sleepy lust. You’d been sitting in silence for hours. It was fine, you had nothing else to do. It was better that Bucky worked it out on his own anyway; you knew how he could get lost in his own thoughts.

All you’d hoped was that he wasn’t beating himself up about it anymore.

“Hey, doll,” he murmured, grabbing your hand in his, turning up to lean against the headboard next to you. And, god, the way you looked at him could make his heart stop; nothing but admiration and affection in those eyes. Your eyebrows were slightly raised, corners of your mouth pulling up slightly.

“Hey, Buck.” You fully smiled at him, offering him a soft, sleepy grin.

“I love you.”

You slid down on the bed, this time resting your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his large torso, snuggling up into him as the sun rose behind you. “I love you, too.”

[haberdashing]

Hidden Away

Statement of Riley Parker regarding a hide-and-seek game played on their college’s campus.

on AO3

Statement of Riley Parker regarding a hide-and-seek game played on their college’s campus. Original statement given April 13th, 2019. Recording by Artemis Lee, archival assistant for the Usher Foundation.

Statement begins.

I think it’s important to start off by saying that this was a Saturday night, midterms had just ended, and most of us were drunk. I think that explains a lot of what we were thinking here. I know hide-and-seek is seen as a kid’s game, but when you’re hanging on campus with your friends, you’re bored, and you just want to let off some steam after a week of grueling exams... sometimes you get creative.

I wasn’t drunk, though. I don’t drink, never have. Alcoholism runs in my family, and I figured the best way to avoid it is to just not drink in the first place. Not that it’s really anyone’s business why I don’t drink, but when people get snotty about it, explaining that usually makes them back off a bit.

Crystal, though--Crystal Wheeler is her full name--she’s the one who suggested it, and she was drunk as a skunk at the time. Luis Vasquez was the one who suggested Old Bailey as the playing ground--he was drunk too--and it wasn’t long before we all went over there and started figuring out the rules.

There were eight of us playing--myself, Crystal, Luis, AJ, Bowie, Ben, Nessie, and Red; I could give you last names for everybody, but I really doubt they’d be of much help. The rules were simple: find a spot in Old Bailey and hide in it, wait for the seeker to find you, first one found is the seeker next if there’s time to play again, last one found gets bragging rights, leaving Old Bailey means you’re kicked from the game for good.

Old Bailey isn’t called that because there’s another Bailey to confuse it with, but because it’s really old--like, early 1800s old, oldest building on campus by far. It gets whatever classes or activities can’t fit somewhere else, pretty much, but for such a big building in the middle of campus, it’s really not used that often. And most importantly for our game, it’s got a lot of little nooks and crannies hidden away in it.

Ben volunteered to be the first seeker, and he gave us a full minute to go find our hiding spots since we needed time to be able to get there, and maybe even to figure out where it was we wanted to hide.

I knew where I was going the instant I started running, though. There’s a little room on the far end of the building from where Ben was counting that the choir uses for practice sometimes--I’m not in choir myself, but I found out about it when I helped them carry equipment in one time. The door to it’s kind of hidden away off to the side of a lecture hall, so unless you know it’s there, you’d probably pass by it and not even notice.

Once I got in the room, I noticed a wardrobe in the corner of the room, and when I opened it it turned out to be empty, so I had no doubt I’d be able to fit in it easily, if not comfortably. I climbed inside, got as comfortable as I could, and looked down at my glow-in-the-dark watch, which was already ticking away.

Tick. Tick. Tick. 12:01 AM. One minute passed. The seeker could stop counting and start looking.

I wasn’t worried about being the first one found. Even if Ben knew about this spot, it was on the wrong end of the building for that. I figured I had several minutes at least to hang in there, watch the clock, peer out through the slits in the doors to see if anyone was coming.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Thirty minutes passed.

Ben’d probably be getting close now, I figured--though I didn’t hear him, so maybe not, maybe I had a bit longer to wait. We’d never done this before, so it’s not like I had any real idea of how long it’d take. And like I said, it was a big building.

I started to wish I’d brought my phone with, but then, knowing my luck, it’d probably make some noise and give my spot away at exactly the wrong time. As it was, my watch seemed loud enough, though maybe that was just because there wasn’t anything else to make noise in there.

Tick. Tick. Tick. One hour passed.

I was getting a little achy--the wardrobe had enough room for me but not much to spare, so I was just standing inside it in kind of an awkward position, without much room to fidget around in there.

I had to be one of the last ones left, right? Maybe I’d even be the winner.

I could put up with a few aches and pains for a bit longer if it meant getting to lord it over my friends for ages to come.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Hour and a half passed.

This was getting ridiculous. My nose itched, and I had to pee, and I was bored as hell, and I hadn’t heard one single person come by this entire time.

Had they forgotten about me?

No, of course not. We were friends. They probably just overlooked the door to the room altogether. It was easy enough to do, after all.

...when I won the game, I was making them buy me food afterwards.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Two hours passed.

I kept coming back to the thought that my friends had forgotten about me, forgotten about the game entirely, forgotten that I was still hidden away in my little nook in Old Bailey. I didn’t want to believe it, but what else was there? Could two hours of searching really not be enough to find this room? I still hadn’t heard so much as a single footstep.

Then I started to wonder what would happen if that was the case. How long would it take for people to notice I was missing? Would somebody come use the room before then?

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t checked whether I could get out of the wardrobe before stepping inside. What if I was trapped in there? What if it was locked? I could still see the room outside through those slits in the door, but I think I started hyperventilating a bit, because the air didn’t feel right in my lungs, and I wondered if the slits weren’t big enough, if I was going to suffocate to death in there and nobody would ever know-

It was exactly 2:36:13 according to my watch when I opened the wardrobe from the inside, taking a deep breath as I stepped out into the room beyond; the air wasn’t exactly fresh in there, but it was damn well better than inside the wardrobe, anyway.

I still didn’t hear a sound beyond the tick of my watch and my own breathing and heartbeat, but just getting out was enough to calm me down a little, convince me that I wasn’t going to die forgotten in an old choir wardrobe. Still, it took a few minutes before I got my bearings enough to start wandering around.

The part of me that just figured I was really good at hide-and-seek finally shut up for good when I opened the door to the choir room and entered the giant lecture hall it was connected to and still heard nothing. There was no way that seven mostly-drunk college kids searching for someone in an echo-y old building wouldn’t be making some kind of noise, but I couldn’t hear a thing. Not from people, anyway; I focused enough that I heard the hum of the electric lights, noticed a few gurgles from the plumbing system when I got a drink of water and stopped in the bathroom, but nothing that came from other people. I even looked down at the carpet to see if I could make out any footprints, but no such luck.

I walked... well, really it was more of a jog, to the other side of the building, where we’d all left our bags and phones and stuff just before the game started, but the only stuff there was mine. My phone wouldn’t turn on, even though I thought it’d still had 70% battery when we started, but at that point I wasn’t even surprised. I did, however, have a couple hard candies still buried in my bag--I tend to keep some kind of candy around just in case, especially since Nessie lives two doors down and she’s diabetic--and I ate one, thanking my past self for being so considerate.

The tiredness set in all at once, it seemed like. I’d chugged an energy drink while most of my friends were chugging alcoholic drinks, so it might’ve just been that wearing off, but suddenly I didn’t want to bother dragging myself back to my dorm and plugging in my phone and doing everything else I’d need to do before going to bed, I just wanted sleep, now. I saw some sort of a teacher’s lounge with a couch in it, and fuck, it wasn’t even an especially nice couch, just a beat-up old yellow thing that was lumpy as hell, but at that point it might as well have been sent by the gods as far as I was concerned.

I don’t remember the exact time, but I know it was a little after 3 according to my watch before I managed to get some sleep in.

When I checked my watch upon waking up, it was 9:47, the sun was shining, and I still didn’t hear a peep. Which didn’t surprise me that much, really--obviously my friends had ditched me, and I’d give them hell for it later.

But then I passed by a window. It was a beautiful day out, the sun was shining, the trees were swaying gently in the wind... and there was nobody outside.

Nobody rushing to or from the cafeteria. Nobody heading to or from their car. Nobody walking their dog, or feeding the feral cats on campus, or playing ultimate frisbee, or any of the usual things people would do on a nice Sunday morning. I didn’t even see any squirrels scampering about, and those things are usually all over campus.

My mind went to... some weird places there. Wondering if I’d missed the apocalypse or something. Maybe the Rapture. Not that I’m religious, but hell, what else was there?

I had the rest of my hard candies at that point, though that wasn’t quite enough to fill my stomach on its own. Just needed something to get my mind off things, I think, some kind of distraction.

I looked back at the lounge where I’d slept, figuring I’d make a note of it for later, maybe even thank the professor who took care of the spot for putting the couch there... I remember it was room 165, but there was no name on the door. Not a plaque, not a carving, not even a piece of paper saying the professor’s name.

There was a desk next to the couch, and I looked at the papers on it, not because it really mattered who this professor was in the greater scheme of things but because I just wanted to know, but all the papers were blank. Just ordinary white printer paper, stacked haphazardly on a desk to look like a normal professor’s workspace if you didn’t look too closely.

Not going to lie... I think I had a bit of a panic attack when I saw that. It just didn’t make sense, even with my half-formed theories about the apocalypse or the Rapture or whatnot. It wasn’t that everybody had vanished--it was more like nobody had ever been there to begin with, or that every sign of their existence had vanished with them except the building of Old Bailey itself. There was just me and my bag and that was it. Me against the world.

I really wish I’d brought my charger with me that night.

Then I figured, well, lights had worked fine the night before--and I flipped one on now, confirmed they were still working--so I might as well make my way back to my dorm room, charge my phone, get out my laptop, figure out what the hell it was I’d clearly missed. Leaving Old Bailey was still technically losing the game of hide-and-seek that I’d rightfully won, I guess, but that had long since stopped mattering to me. If I couldn’t have my friends with me, I at least wanted to know what happened to them.

According to my watch, it was 10:18 when I finally stepped outside Old Bailey.

The instant I stepped outside I heard a loud noise and I flinched, panicked a bit, covered my ears. It took me a minute to realize what the noise was.

It was my friends, all seven of them, standing outside the main door to Old Bailey, shouting my name. There was a police officer there, too; apparently they’d called him when I vanished, thought I might have gotten stuck somewhere. Guess they weren’t entirely wrong.

It was dark out, though. And according to all of their phones and watches and whatnot, it was only 2:36 in the morning, though my watch still showed that it was well after 10 AM.

The next time I went back in that building--with Red in tow, because I was not going back alone--I checked on what I remembered from my time in there. Not only could I not find the couch, I couldn’t find room 165; the numbers only go up to 149 before skipping to the 200s, apparently. The wardrobe was gone, too, and when I asked some choir kids about it, none of them remembered it being there.

There’s no big moral to this story, I don’t think, no way to tie it all up in a knot. I’ve always had a bit of an issue with anxiety, and that’s even worse now, as you might imagine. If I’ve learned anything, it’s just that the world is even weirder and scarier than I had imagined, and I could do without that knowledge, thanks. All I know is I’m never going back to Old Bailey alone, and I’m never playing another game of hide-and-seek in my life.

Statement ends.

[infinite-hearts-333]

Broken pack, Broken wolf

Sander sides, Analogical (Eventually), Logan Angst, Werewolf AU

WARNING: really bad writing, angsty, lack of sleep and starvation, swearing I'll add to this

Before

Part 3- Enter Anxiety

First couple of days were.... Interesting, but soon enough, things fell into a nice steady rhythm once more. Get up (Whether he was awake already or not), get changed- if he found the energy to wear his fluffy unicorn onesie to bed, put on foundation to hide his bags, eat breakfast with Roman and Patton, retire to his room for the rest of the day until he became exhausted and go to bed, repeat. It took three weeks for his stomach to get used to this new intake of food, and it took five days for Logan to be able to hold his breakfast down. He never came out for dinner, always far too full to eat anything else without being sick.

He, after a few trials and errors, found that the other sides awoke at a certain time, so he edited his morning a little so he was the first awake, around seven thirty, so he could read for a bit while he waited. It also helped since when Logan was tired his ears and tail enjoyed popping out for no reason, plus it was nice to sit comfortably with a cup of coffee (his new goddess/god, sorry Artemis) and read in blissful quietness until Patton woke up and began cooking.

Okay, truth time. Logan hated change. He liked following a routine and instructions, in fact, not that he liked to admit it, it took him three days to convince himself to exit his room and meet the others. So it was understandable that he had a hard time getting use to anything new. Like his current situation.

There was a person. Sitting on the counter. Logan blinked, and shuffled quietly, wondering if he should leave and wait for Patton to wake up. The man reminded Logan of Empero, when she had just woken up after staying on guard for nearly half the night, sitting cross-legged on the bench, leaning over a cup of steaming coffee that he was cradling in his hands. His eyes were half-lidded, boring holes into the cupboard from under his purple tinted hair that covered his eyes. He had eyeshadow under his eyes, skinny ripped jeans and a grey sleeve and black hoodie.

After a few nervous moments, the man noticed Logan standing awkwardly in the hallway door, wrinkled up his nose, and hissed. Logan, in reflex, growled back making the man's eyes widened slightly, and dipped his head. Logan became even more confused, for he wasn't sure if the man was human, if he was, what dipping the head may of ment in human body language. He couldn't pick up on any werewolf scent, sadly, but he took the man's head dip as a sign of submission, and quickly stalked across the room to select his galaxy cup and began making coffee for himself.

Logan didn't speak, clicking buttons to make his coffee, and went over to the fridge to collect the milk and the toast, and then to the cupboard to collect a type of jam called crofters which Logan enjoyed quite a bit. He poured the milk into his coffee, and placed two pieces of toast in the toaster. He paused, and then turned to the new side still sitting on the counter. "You..... do you want some toast?" He asked softly, completely turning around. The male narrowed his eyes, taking a long sip from his coffee and then fiddled with his sleeves.

"Yes.. please." he said, equally as quiet. Logan softly smiled. He was just nervous, like Logan was when he first met the others. Logan was determined to make this side feel welcomed, and not have to take time to realise by himself it was safe, like Logan had to. He turned back to the toaster, and once the toast popped, he collected it taking it and some butter and jam, over to the other side with a small smile. He placed it next to him. "There you go. Did you just manifester? Also I should warn that there are two more sides, and both of them are quite loud."

"N-no... I'm from somewhere else... and thanks, good to know." the side gave Logan a small smile back, carefully taking the plate. "Well I'm logan. Do you have a name or something I could call you by?" the man paused, swallowing and staring at the toast. "Anxiety." he said in a bare whisper. "Very well Anxiety." Logan said, turning back to work on his own food, before pausing. "Um, do you mind... if i join you?" Logan asked.

"Y-yer! Sure, h-here let me." Anxiety shuffled around, scooting over and giving Logan some room. Logan smiled, hopping up onto the bench. The two ate in peaceful silence, the only noises in the kitchen were the soft tapping of Anxiety's fingers, clinking of cups being placed down and crunching of the toast. It was nice, calming, and Logan thought he wouldn't mind this change. Both Logan and Anxiety could hear Patton running down the stairs, and Anxiety quickly excused himself, and vanished. Logan's eyes slightly widened, but he couldn't question it, given the side was no longer there.

Anxiety's existence was, well... interesting. The anxious trait was a little all over the show, switching from shy and nervous, softly mumbling questions and answers, to cocky and snarky, capable of bruising roman's ego six times over. He seemed to tolerate Patton, because well, who couldn't? He was nice to everyone. Anxiety slowly appeared in the mornings as well, randomly, not that logan minded. He never stuck around long enough to be caught by Roman and Patton, and since Logan was the only one awake at the hour, he assumed that Anxiety had grown to like him.

Which was... nice, he guessed. The two would trade questions and ideas, theories and knowledge, and occasionally, Logan would bring a book and read it to the darkly dressed side. Eventually, anxiety started to open up about their own likes, and started to strike different conversations than Logan always starting the conversations and asking questions or bringing up topics. Anxiety seemed to always be very interested in things like 'SCP's' or 'cryptids' which then logan spend the rest of the day researching about because, 1) if they were real, Logan was very concerned, and 2) and there is nO WAY THAT AN ORANGE BLOB IS CAPABLE OF HUMAN THOUGHT. (That's SCP- 999 for you Logan-)

Quick visit to google moved they were both very, very fictional, thank Artemis.

Once virgil even brought something of his own to logan. "It's.... a tiny laptop?" Quizzed logan, blinking down at the small rectangular object in Anxiety's hands. "Pfft- no. It's a phone, you dork. I thought logic knew everything?" Logan went red in embarrassment.

"Falsehood. I don't know everything, even as Logic. Our.... past lives affect our knowledge, thoughts and beliefs." Logan hesitated for a second before bringing up the term 'past lives' for apparently he wasn't the only one with a rough past. Virgil tensed, before forcing himself to relax, patting his spot next to him. Logan hopped up with the plate of toast placing it in between them. "So.. it's called a phone? What does it do?" Logan asked quietly.

"It's like a laptop i guess. You kinda do whatever you want with it, you could get games, it lets you communicate from long distances, a lot of stuff." Anxiety said, semi leaning back. Logan made a small noise of approval. "It's kind of, not kinda. And interesting. And what does this have to do with books?" Logan asked, tilting his head. Anxiety rolled his eyes at the correction, but smirked, holding up the phone. "I have something called a audio book. It's where someone records them reading a book out loud and you can listen to it." Logan visibly perked at that.

"Really? That's... quite impressive." he stared intensely down at the phone. Anxiety scoffed. "Whatever ya say teach. Do you remember when I told you about nightvale?" he said, beginning to nervously fiddle with his sleeves, a sign Logan picked as him being unsure. "You not ya, and yes i do recall that. It sounds.... Quite peculiar." Logan hummed, remember that morning ended up being a debate about the purposes of a dog park that no one was allowed in.

"Well..." Anxiety said in an even quieter voice. "It's a podcast... and i was wondering if you would like to listen to it with me. I'll start from the beginning if you want! And it's okay if you don't want to. I just thought it would be nice, since you're always bringing something, and I didn't want to only take and not give something back-'' Anxiety began to rant, and Logan softly chuckled. "Anxiety." Logan said, snapping the others attention from their rant. "I would love to." Logan continued, allowing a small smile.

Anxiety blinked, once, twice, and then began fumbling furiously with a bunch of cables. "Right! Right, right, right..." He softly cursed under his breath as he found his cables in a knot, but Logan waited patiently, picking up one of the pieces of toast and taking a bite out of it. Once Anxiety undid the knot, he passed a single bud to logan, and stuffed the other in his ear. "Put this in your ear. It makes it so only we can hear the audio book and no one else." Virgil explained, giving logan a slight weak smile. Logan returned a reassuring smile, taking the bud and carefully placing it in his ear- thankfully, human ears appeared whenever he hid his wolf ears.

He tried to ignore the warnings flashing in the back of his head, saying that humans are dangerous, and readjusted the bud so it sat comfortably. Virgil fiddled with his phone, clicking on the smooth black screen. The next thing Logan knew someone was talking, crisp and clear in his ear, followed by weird nice non-talking noises. Logan flinched, shocked and confused and Anxiety softly chuckled. "Easy there, it's okay. This is the podcast." He hummed along with the odd melody.

"What's that noise?" Logan asked, straining his ears to listen carefully. "Behind the voice? It's not talking... what is it?" Anxiety blinked, trying to figure out what Logan was talking about. "Do you mean... music?" "Music?" Logan echoed, testing the word out. "Yer, it's the thing in the background, it sounds like.." Anxiety paused, and then hummed a couple of the notes. Logan stared curiously, humming a couple of his own notes. "Yes, that." Logan clarified. "That's music. People write a lot of music in my past life, called songs. You can get songs like this, where there are no lyrics- lyrics are words that people put in the songs, or with lyrics. If you want, i could put on a couple songs after this." Anxiety offered.

Logan hummed and nodded, focusing on the voice that had started talking. After a few minutes, Logan wrinkled his nose, turning to look at a grinning Anxiety. "The glow cloud?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. "All hail the glow cloud!" Chirped Anxiety, giggling and grinning. "You do realise that a glowing cloud that rains dead animals is ridiculous and illogical, right?" Logan asked, taking another bite of his toast. Anxiety rolled his eyes and snorted, smirking. "Well i find it ridiculous and illogical that you didn't know what a phone or music was." "Touche." hummed logan, closing one eye and then froze when something warm pushed against his back.

He turned his head a bit only to find Anxiety was leaning against Logan's back, eyes closed with a small content smile as we listened to the pod cast. Logan inhaled and softly smiled, leaning back as well, taking in the warmth from the other, treasuring this moment that was sickly alike back when he was with his pack. But in the presence of Anxiety, Logan couldn't find the ability to be sad.

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

Next

[neverthevictor]

|72nd Hunger Games|

Fawn Bolt. The girl who wasn't suppose to be in the 72nd Hunger Games. The first person from district ten to volunteer for someone, for her twin sister. The girl who was suppose to be the face of the Rebellion, had she not died her first death.

All she remembered that day of the reaping, was her twin sister's name being called and the first thing that followed after was her sister, Dove's panicked screams, "No! Please! You have to be wrong!" "Dove-" she tried grabbing onto her twin desperately as peacekeepers attempted pulled them a part.

"I VOLUNTEER!" She screamed, surely ruining her throat for the remainder of the day. "I volunteer as tribute!" She shouted again, but more clearly this time. The younger twin looked to Dove, starting to tell her, "Go with Sanguin—Go with them right now, Dove!-" before she knew it she was being dragged to the stage as their friend Sanguin picked up Fawn's twin like a sack of potatoes and hauled her off.

"District 10 very first volunteer!" The escort from the Capitol said cheerfully. It made her stomach lurch slightly. How the Capitol be so happy to see children die all for a game?

"You volunteered for your sister, did you not?" The sixteen year old felt like she was in a daze. "Yes, I did," her voice sounded rough from the scream she let out just seconds ago. After being told she was brave for that, she learned her district partner would be Talon Overhorn.

——————Train to the Capitol——————

Talon was the good age of eighteen years old. He was fairly tall, about 6'1 and almost two hundred pounds, both muscle and fat. He had worked with her father in one of the many slaughterhouses. She's witnessed him hold down a fully grown male boar so her dad could get a good shot on the creature. There was no way she could take him on if it came down to it. At least hand to hand.

Fawn on the other hand was 5'2, barely 110 pounds and was on the thinner side due to lack of constant nutrition. Despite her dislike of killing animals, she was good with a knife and she was too clever and intelligent for her own good, according to her parents colleagues. She also happened to be good with a crossbow and great at hiding and climbing. From the time she was seven she knew how to tell poison plants from the non-poisonous ones. She could track an animal without any problems, but this was all because of her best friend Sanguin. Had it not be for them teaching her these things, she'd be as good as dead before the games even begun.

She came back to reality when their mentor Lynx Littlebrand starting speaking to them about surivial of the game. "Will they tell us what kind of terrain it is?" Talon asked their mentor. It made the Jewish girl snort. "No, why would they? If they told us, the games wouldn't work out very well. Too many of us would be prepared for the terrain." It earned a nasty look from him and their escort, Valore Gazer. But their shared mentor couldn't help but smile at her blunt personality.

——————The Chariots ——————

The young girl's stylist, Phoenix Fairs, made it clear they hated her curly dark hair and didn't like her nose that much either. They even commented on her full lips, that made her even more insecure. Once they found out she was Jewish, it made the stylist coil back—until Talon and his stylist had something to say about it. Which made Phoenix quiet down real quick. It shocked her that someone from the Capitol would've stuck up for her, but she was forever grateful for it even if she didn't voice it.

She did a look over of her makeup, hair, and outfit once Phoenix was done with her. She didn't look like herself. She hated how she looked. She was a child getting ready for war and they wanted them to play dress up for a chariot event and for an interview? It made her feel sick.

Her face was caked with makeup. Her eyes reminded her of the barn owls in the barns that kept the animals safe at night, wide, predatory, except for the pound of glitter they added to her face. Her lips were painted the same dark shade of red that would spill from those same animals when her dad or Talon would gut them open. Her nose and lips looked smaller somehow and her jawline was sharpened instead of softened, like it usually was. Her hair was straightened beyond belief and had layers of hair gel to keep her hair in place while having a 'wet' look.

She wore a head piece of a female deer skull with a gold band and neutral colored stones, gold was put into the deer's sunken eyes. Her dress was reddish brown in color and went right above her knees. It was styled as if Artemis herself made the dress. Over her shoulders was the black fur of some sort of animal. The thing she hated the most about the outfit were the shoes. No, no. Heels. She was wearing black fur bootie high heels. It all looked wrong.

Prior to going out on the chariots, a girl, from district three, Fawn assumed by the outfit she was wearing, approached her with a huge smile. She was much taller than her, probably 5'8. She was lean, like a runner. Black inky hair and light brown skin and had the prettiest dark brown eyes that she's ever seen. "I'm sorry what?" The teenager snapped out of her heart-eye stupor. The girl leaned her head back and laughed, complete amusement was in her laughter. "I said, you look great—Fawn was it?" And that's how she met Pixelle Byte and her district partner Xander Gadget.

——————The Interview——————

Fawn knew she'd hate the interview. She knew she'd hate Caesar Flickerman. His fake attitude, his disgusting cheerfulness of the games, it all made her angry. But she didn't lash out. She sat up properly, like what Valore told her too, and answered his questions. Even the too personal ones, like the one about Dove and Duke. And the one about Sanguin. And if she had anyone back home waiting for her.

Little did any of them know, her eyes were on the girl from three. But she didn't let them know that.

When they came back to the penthouse that night, she sobbed uncontrollably in the shower after peeling off all of her clothes. Their brunette mentor had come in, knowing how distraught the teenager was and somehow just knew how to calm her. She made her get into the bath once she filled it up and washed her hair, while singing a lullaby—one she knew too well. That night she learn Lynx was Jewish.

She reminded Fawn she had to survive and win the games so she could go back home to her family. Give their district someone to believe in.

——————HG Event Day Seven——————

"Pixie! Come on, we gotta go!" She yelled at the tech-savy girl. Senca Crane decided that the girls hiding out wasn't enough for him. So he sent a pack of rabid coyote-like mutts after curly haired girl and black haired girl. "I know you're a good runner, so use your fucking legs and go!" She finally screamed at Pixelle who was frozen in fear. Fawn shoved the girl she loved forward which finally got her attention and they started running.

Pixelle grasped the shorter girl, pushing her a head of her after a few minutes of running from the mutts. "Keep going! Go up that ladder and hide! I'll find you," she instructed the huntress—but the girl with a dagger and crossbow strapped to her didn't move. "Damnit Fawn!" She snatched Fawn's wrist, pressing a bruising kiss to her lips before pulling a part. "If you love me, do as a say and go! I'll come back for you, I promise!" She nodded frantically, bolting to the said ladder and climbed up it.

She looked around for a place to hide in torn down building they were forced to run into. Her eyes scanned the space around her—she jumped when she heard Pixelle's screaming at the coyote-shaped mutts. "Over here, mutties! Over here! Yeah!" She was making loud noises. It made her wonder what the fuck she was thinking. The thought of the girl from three sacrificing herself to keep Fawn safe made the smaller girl feel sick.

But she pushed down the feeling, noticing out of the corner of her eye, a pile of rubble high enough for her to jump into an open vent. She ran over to the rubble, seeing and testing it out slightly if she was able to balance on it long enough to jump and climb into the vent. "Thank you, God," she uttered beneath her breath, as she put her whole body weight on the pile of broken cement. She jumped up and grabbed onto the edge of the vent pulling herself in. Now all she had to do was wait it out.

The curly haired teenager waited a full three hours for Pixelle to come back. She would go in and out of sleep since it was still dark out when she and Pixie had gotten chased by the mutts.

She snapped her eyes open after barely thirty minutes of sleep. Her name was being shouted. It was Xander and Talon. Xander, herself, Talon, and Pixie formed an alliance before the games started. "Fawn! Help! Pixie's hurt!" There was clear, geniune fear in Xander's voice. She struggled to get out of the vent, but eventually made it out and practically slid down the ladder to get to her allies as fast as she could. Both boys were holding the blood covered, black haired girl. Panic was written on both their faces.

"Come on, lay her down, be gentle." She was trying to stay calm, but the minute she got a good look at the bloodied girl, she knew. She just fucking knew. Pixelle Byte was going to die. The indigenous girl's right arm was completely dislocated, the side of her face gashed open and bleeding, but it was the deep claw marks across her chest that got the girl from ten.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whimpered quietly to Fawn, red sticky substance coming out of her mouth. Something she didn't know would be imprinted in her mind for the rest of her days. "It's okay, yakirati, it's okay. Hey, hey look at me. I'm proud of you, I'm so fucking proud of you." The boys helped Fawn put Pixie a little more onto her lap so she could hold the girl she fell for, one last time. "Fawn, I love you—Don't cry, please don't cry," the light brown skinned girl smiled through her tears as Fawn cried silently. "I love you, I love you, please, don't do this to me," She begged the indigenous girl.

She watched as Pixelle lifted a shaky hand to her face, and pulled her down for one last kiss. Neither one of them caring about the blood coming out of the dying's girl's mouth nor did they care for their district partners' being there. "Don't be what they made us become," Pixie whispered to her. Before she could reply, the girl's hand fell from her face and she went limp in her lap. The strangle scream that left Fawn's throat would be forever burnt in the minds of every district citizen and former victors' minds after that.

——————HGE Day 12——————

Xander Gadget died three days after Pixelle did. And that still hurt. Every time she looked at Xander, she saw her little brother, except maybe a little older. But she still saw her brother in him. And when the boy from district one shot an arrow through his heart, all she saw was Duke's face. Talon ended up running off, despite Fawn begging him not to, to get revenge for Xander on Royce Ardor. Of course, she went after him a few minutes later. Luckily, she was still able to track anyone in the terrain they were in.

But by the time she got to him, it was too late. The poor boy was dead. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Tal," she whispered, willing herself not to cry as she leaned down and closed his eyes. Instead she morphed into anger. She had a feeling Royce was hiding somewhere in the rubble or at least still near her and Talon's body. The only reason she had that feeling was because her friend's body was still fresh. His blood was still warm. "ROYCE!" She screamed out for the murderer of Gadget and Overhorn.

"Took you long enough. Y'know, I never-" "Cut the crap. I couldn't care less about your fucking rant," Fawn interupted the slightly older tribute. She tossed her crossbow onto the ground and motioned for Royce to come get her.

There was blood everywhere. Even though Fawn had put up a damn good fight, the redhead boy managed to get the upperhand by swiping dust from the ground into her face. Then he tackled her to the ground, grabbing her dagger that was attached to her waist. When he had tackled her, it caused her to smack her head onto the concrete, putting her in a daze. That was until he started carving into her skin, making her scream out in pain and trying to wiggle away. But it just made him more violent.

"Stop fucking moving, you stupid bitch!" Royce yelled at her, shaking her viciously. She retaliated by spitting in his face, but that didn't help her cause. He drove the dagger into her left side twice. "ah, ah, don't die just yet, Bolt." He slapped the side of her face harshly before gripping her chin and making her look at him.

"You know, I am sorry for Byte. That must've been ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 for you. But you see, people like you, you don't get happy endings. You don't deserve them. She didn't deserve it! They all didn't deserve it!" he rambled on. But she could barely make out what the fuck he was saying. He sounded unstable, like he had gone mad. When she didn't reply, he started carving into her her face. Her screams echoed the broken down, abandoned building they were in. Blood soaked her hair and her skin and the ground she laid on. Royce Ardor stood over her, head held high, with a wild grin plastered on his face. He was the 72nd Hunger Games victor.

Fawn Bolt was to die here. Alone. Without any comfort or anyone crying for her. In the cold, by a poor, deranged boy who was also a victim of their government's cruel games. "I'm sorry," she whispered before closing her eyes, letting herself rest finally.

@syrenskiss

[pandastern]

Gravity (Bakugo x OC)

Gravity (Bakugo x OC)

Part 5: Unforseen Simulation Joint (past)

Bakugou x Vigilante!OC

Warnings: angst, explicit language, violence

Word count: 2433

Genre: enemies to lovers ; angst ; romance, slow burn

When a new student makes an entrance, Bakugou has a real bad feeling. There is something about this girl that just doesnt feel right. From the flaming hair to the calculating glint in her green eyes, everything about her just pisses him off.

Little does he know that his fate is intertwined with the person he despises so much, defining his future path in a way he would have never expected.

Bakugou grit his teeth until they hurt. His crimson eyes bored into the back of the flame-haired girl walking a few feet in front of him. At this point, Artemis was pissing him off even more than that damn Deku! She’d really gotten the best of him the other day. Not that it was gonna happen again. He’d show her. He’d make her regret the day she ever stepped foot in UA.

A sudden hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his train of thought.

“Hey, man!” Kirishima said with a toothy grin. “If you keep staring like, you’re gonna get eye issues.”

“Tch… Shut up, shitty hair! I'm not staring,” Bakugou growled, shrugging off Kirishima’s hand. 

"Right. I mean, I get that you two don’t really get along and all, but maybe you shouldn’t try to start another fight one day after she, well… beat you?”

“She did not fucking beat me! I can take that cocky water hazard any day, any time!” Bakugou spat, whipping around with gleaming eyes.

Rage bubbled in the pit of his stomach, but Kirishima just laughed and held up his hands defensively. “Hey no need to blow up over something so small.”

“I'm not!” Bakugou growled and walked away.

Why was that shitty-haired dumbass even trying to come at him? Sure, his words were the truth, but Bakugou didn’t need it spelled out for him. And then there was Artemis, acting all high and mighty. How did no-one else but him notice that this girl was just so… unsettling? No matter what she was doing, her whole attitude rubbed him the wrong way.

“Why are you even so focused on her?” Kirishima’s voice interrupted his thoughts again.

Bakugou grunted. “I’m not focused on her! She’s pissing me off, is all. Acting like she’s better than everyone else, always running her fucking mouth like she’s the funniest person in the academy.”

“And you burned off half her hair. That’s pretty harsh, especially for a girl, you know? Maybe that’s why she went all Terminator on you.” Kirishima shrugged.

“I didn’t do that on purpose. It was an accident. We fought, I blasted without thinking, her hair went up in flames,” Bakugou snapped.

“Does she know that?”

“Why would I care? Now leave me alone before I blast your ass to kingdom come.”

“Okay, okay!” Kirishima raised his hands in defence and walked away, muttering to himself.

Bakugou turned away and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Kirishima needed to keep his nose out of things that didn’t concern him… though as much as he hated to admit it, he had a point. The whole class had seen Artemis beat him in that training circle. He’d given it his all and had failed nonetheless. Never in his life had anyone shown him up that badly.

Perhaps that was why he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He’d gone over that fight in his head so many times,trying to find some way to justify his own failure, but he couldn’t. Artemis had been holding back in the beginning, but the moment he’d started to get the upper hand, she’d overpowered him like a tidal wave, mercilessly crushing him and everything else in her way. And despite him being infuriated by his own loss, he couldn't help but respect the fighting skill she’d displayed.

Inside the special training facility, the class was met by Thirteen, a rescue hero dressed in something that somewhat resembled an astronaut’s space suit. Judging by the excited mutters of her classmates, Artemis assumed that the hero was rather popular for their work.

“Welcome to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, or USJ for short, a facility created to simulate various natural disasters in order to train young heroes for rescue missions,” Thirteen said with arms outstretched.

Artemis followed Thirteen’s gesture with her eyes and let her gaze wander. The giant dome-shaped building was bigger than any training facility she’d ever seen. Not that she could compare this to anything she’d ever experienced. Most of the facilities she knew had been underground and certainly not for rescue work.

Thirteen started to explain the different zones of the USJ, each one modelled after a natural disaster heroes commonly had to fight their way through. Artemis was only half listening while her mind wandered. It made sense for the school that formed most of the top heroes of this day in age to prepare the young students for catastrophes. Her classmates seemed to be eagerly listening, and she could see the admiration in their eyes. It was so painfully obvious how innocent and naive they were. They knew heroes from TV and from what they were taught. Heroes were good, villains were evil. Everything was so cut and dry, so simple to understand.

She sighed and shook her head.

“Miss Moon?” Thirteen’s voice pulled her out of her trance. “Are you paying attention?”

Artemis flinched and muttered a curse under her breath. “Sorry.”

“That's all right. Now, as I was saying,” the rescue hero continued, “my quirk is called Dark Hole. While it allows me to save lives, it’s also a dangerous weapon. Many of you have powers that could easily kill someone should you ever lose control.”

Artemis clenched her jaw. She knew that oh so well. The sudden feeling of eyes boring into the back of her head mader her glance back. She caught the sight of Bakugou’s eyes narrowed at her before he turned his attention back to the teacher.

“Always remember that you should never use your powers for personal gain. Use them to save people. That is the true essence of being a hero,” Thirteen said to finish off.

Artemis had to scoff at that. Why was everything so painfully glorified? If that was really what they believed made a true hero in this world, then there was no such thing. Fame, money, power… It was all a corrupted system strapping people down. What a load of shit. That certainly wasn’t the world she remembered so vividly.

She looked around again, only for her eyes to be drawn to a big fountain in the middle of the dome. At first, Artemis couldn’t quite tell why it had caught her attention. Something about it just seemed… off.

Staring more intently, she noticed a subtle, almost invisible change in the air. A slight flicker, easily missed, like summer air shimmering on hot concrete.

How odd. Was the heating system having issues? Or maybe there was a gas leak.

She pulled away from the group and slowly made her way closer to the stairs, making sure to keep her eyes on the strange phenomenon so she didn’t lose it. Something about this just didn’t feel right. Thirteen and the class were still busy going over the program, so no one seemed to notice it.

The flickering started to pick up, slowly getting denser. Artemis could clearly see the distortion slowly spreading and growing.

“What is that?” she muttered to herself, narrowing her eyes.

A shadow fell across her as Aizawa joined her by her side. She glanced up at him. The look in his dark eyes told her she definitely wasn’t imagining it. The hairs on the back of her neck started to rise. 

Artemis shifted her attention back to the flickering air just as it started to contort and turn dark. For a few moments, it was just a small spot, no bigger than a fist, the black smoke pulsing slightly as if it had its own heartbeat. Then the spot started to grow, shooting out wispy tendrils of black and purple that spread out like the smoke of a forest fire until it was the size of a large doorway.

Aizawas hand shot out, grabbing Artemis by the shoulder and flinging her back at her classmates so roughly she would have hurt herself if Kirishima hadn't caught her.

“Hey! What-” Artemis managed to squeak before she heard Aizawa’s quickened heartbeat thrumming in her ears. Her stomach knotted. That wasn’t a good sign.

Her eyes returned to the dark cloud that now seemed to open up from within. It was a portal, Artemis thought with ice forming in her veins. A fucking portal.

Sure enough, she was able to make out the form of a pale hand slowly pushing through, followed by an arm, then a head. Again and again, similar apparitions formed in the black smoke and emerged into the open.

“Get back and stay together!” Aizawa barked in a sharp voice, positioning himself in front of his class and pulling up his goggles. “Thirteen, protect the students.”

“Hey, what’s that?” said Kirishima behind her. “Has the exercise already started? I thought we were supposed to rescue people.”

As more and more figures stepped out of the portal, Artemis’s quirk picked up the hearts of her classmates quickening around her. 

She pushed herself nimbly back on her feet, her own heart starting to pound. There was not one pro hero alive whose heart could possibly beat faster with adrenaline if the situation wasn’t serious. This wasn’t an exercise. This was for real.

“This isn’t a game. Those are real villains,” Aizawa growled. The scarf around his began to unwind on its own.

Holding out her arm, Artemis summoned all the water she could until a shimmering bow formed in her hand.

Aizawa glanced back at his fearful students. How the hell had anyone managed to breach their security? There had been an incident at the school earlier today where someone had tried to infiltrate the school grounds, but with the huge amount of media before their gates, the whole school had just assumed it had been an over-enthusiastic reporter. Now Aizawa had a feeling the commotion at UA had been used to find out where the students were headed.

 “Everyone,” Thirteen commanded, trying to usher them back to the entrance, “get to the exit right away. Do not engage the enemy.”

Kirishima and Bakugou began to complain. Even Midoriya seemed annoyed at the order. However, one stern look from Aizawa shut them up right away.

“Those are real villains,” shouted Aizawa again, stepping towards the stairs. “Get out of here while I hold them back.”

“But Mr Aizawa, you work best in stealth combat. They are too many of them! Even If you can cancel out some of their quirks…” Midoriya began with worry in his voice.

“He’s right. There’s a small army down there,” Artemis added sharply, bow and arrow already in her hands, ready to fight. There was no fear in her deep green eyes, only determination and defiance. 

“You can’t be a pro if you only have one trick up your sleeve,” Aizawa said, and with that, he leapt off the stairs, ready to fight for his students’ lives.