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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

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The aftermath of Merlin snapping, and yelling at Arthur in the middle of the forest;

Arthur pushes for change, the gang takes bets on when Merthur will happen, and someone, somewhere, is grumpy.

Part 2 of Merlin’s Angry Outburst.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Once Arthur has a first draft of the repeal, the first people he brings in on it (with Merlin’s approval, of course) are the 5 knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana.

(Morgana, who later that evening comes back to Arthur's chamber in tears (Merlin is also there) to reveal her magic, and thank him for not being Uther.)

All of them enthusiastically agree, after only a little conversation.

Elyan and Leon are the most... dubious, but only because of the practical factor, they don't disagree with the actual repeal.

After months of the gang working in secret, they reveal their best draft to the council. At least half the council are new members that Arthur appointed, the rest are left over from Uther’s time.

They argue back and forth for a while, half vs half. A few of the older members, who were around before the purge, slowly start changing their minds.

In the end, it takes them maybe a month to get a majority, and Arthur overrules the remaining opposition. He is King after all, technically, he doesn’t even have to have a council.

Days after the agreement is reached, Arthur goes out personally to collect a few specific Druids, who had been waiting just outside the border for the go ahead.

It takes maybe another month to go through all the laws thoroughly, changing and editing and altering what needs to be altered. With the help of Arthur's close advisors on the political aspects, and the help of the Druids, Merlin, and Gaius, on the magical aspects (what should be allowed freely, what should be monitored, and what should remain fully banned).

The city celebrates when the announcement is made, they all loved the new King anyway, and had been overjoyed with the drop in executions, and deliberate ignoring of small instances of magic.

After a feast to celebrate the new found freedom among the people, the gang gathers once more, in private, and Merlin tells a shortened version of the story he'd told Arthur all those months ago.

None of them are that surprised (Gaius, Morgana, and Lancelot already knew, of course).

If they hadn't suspected Merlin of being a sorcerer before this whole thing started (Leon, Gwaine, and Gwen definitely suspected) , then they had certainly begun to in the last few months. They cheer when Merlin finishes telling them "just how often I've saved your oblivious arses" .

They cheer even louder when Arthur announces that he would be made court sorcerer, and it would be made official in a ceremony before the week ended.

There are no cheers when Morgana stands.

Curious eyes land on her, probably due to how terrified she looks, but the small encouraging nods and little smiles she gets from her brother (her Brother), Merlin, and Gwen, give her the strength she needs to tell everyone of her magic as well.

They see she is frightened, they imagine how difficult it must have been, being at first Uther’s ward, and then his daughter. They smile gently, and she receives hugs a plenty. Once all the congratulations are out of the way, she sits back down next to Gwen, still shaky and full of adrenaline, but happy.

She spends the remainder of the group’s quiet celebrations with her hand gripped in Gwen's under the table.

(Read this how you want, I personally envision it as the start of something)

So the days draw on, Merlin is announced Court Sorcerer, Arthur hires another manservant and gives Merlin a large set of chambers in the same hallways as Arthur's, complete with all the books on magic Arthur can find, and several of the magical artefacts that had previously been kept locked away (Merlin and Arthur are the only ones who are able to gain access to the room, something magicky I guess).

(No one mentions that that corridor is supposed to be for royalty only. Leon figures they're bound to realise that they're in love with each other any day now, and then Merlin will practically be royalty anyway so... might as well cut out the middle bit of having to shuffle chambers again later on).

The kingdom is prospering, and for months after the initial announcement, and implementations of the new laws, sorcerers and nobles from all over Albion, visit Camelot, to give congratulations to the King.

They give gifts and provide knowledge.

The Druids, however, are a slightly different story.

The ones who had been helping with the paperwork, had been... odd(?) around Merlin. But they respected his wish to keep all of that under wraps, or at least until it was announced publicly.

Arthur and Gaius know the whole Emrys story. Lancelot and Morgana know bits of it... but other than that... as far as anyone is concerned, the newly promoted Court Sorcerer is just another wizard.

The new Druids entering the kingdom are paying brief respects to the Forever King (I mean... at this point, he's still only King of Camelot... which is what he was before the magic ban repeal), before staring in reverence at the Court Sorcerer stood by his side.

They respect his wishes to keep the worshipping and gift giving to a minimum, though they still come to him for requests of miracles and ask him to perform druid ceremonies (blessings and name-givings and weddings and funerals (though they prefer to call them celebrations of life, rather than commiserations of death) and such).

Merlin can only brush off so many displays of such awe before the rest of The Gang demands to know what’s up, at which point he has to come clean about the whole... “Most Powerful Warlock To Ever Walk The Earth” thing.

Much to Merlin’s chagrin (and everyone else's amusement) the Druids still insist on calling him Emrys. The stubborn ones sometimes even go for "My Lord Emrys", which gets them a scowl from Merlin (and barely concealed laughter from everyone else).

Maybe... later on... when Morgana is more comfortable with her magic, after a few months practicing with Merlin (with a supportive Gwen Always at her side) , she is announced as the Court Seer.

Merlin had never had much luck with prophetic visions, but once Morgana’s fear died down, once she learned to let it flow, and breathe through it, the visions come easier, and kinder.

She stops seeing only visions of doom, and worst case scenarios, instead she has dreams of the many paths the future may take.

She does not panic when a path seems grim and dark, for she has a King and a Warlock and Gwen, by her side. Always. And they work through the future together.

So the ban has been repealed officially for around 6 months.

Arthur is a couple months away from completing his second year as King. And he and Merlin are still beating around the bush.

The betting pool for when they’ll finally get together has been growing bigger and bigger. Practically the whole castle is in on it now, with Gwen and Morgana as the ring leaders. Whoever wins... will be very lucky.

(It's Leon in the end, he pays attention, and he know what his boys are like. But he's a noble and has no need for the money, he pays for a few rounds of drinks and donates the rest to one of children's homes in the lower town).

But the war comes first.

Camelot has been prospering, and has many supporters throughout Albion, but one of the kingdoms, it doesn't matter which, you decide, does NOT like this.

Scouts and small patrols have been needling Camelot’s borders for months now, and Arthur and his Council (and Inner Council) have been making quiet preparations. They know that some sort of... something, is coming soon.

Especially when Morgana begins to dream of battles and blood and lightening.

They prepare for, and expect, a full scale war, but they hope for some negotiations and a peace treaty with the opposition.

Their hopes are dashed, when a messenger is escorted into the throne room, wearing The Opposition’s colours, with a letter.

Said letter is an angry rebuttal of everything Camelot stands for, full of accusations of abandoning tradition, and spitting in the face of great leaders, of which this soft boy-king should NOT be counted as.

At the end, there was an official declaration of war.

The messenger boy was obviously scared to death, and once Arthur read the P.S, which invited Arthur to torture and/or execute him to the whatever extent he wants, he understood why. Without any hesitation, he offers the boy a job in the stables, a new wardrobe of clothes, and a servant’s bed in the castle.

After the official council meeting on the matter, setting up war committees, laying out contingency plans, organising the distribution of emergency evacuation plans, and discussing potential aid that could be requested from allies, Arthur pulls the gang together, for their own meeting.

“We knew this was coming, and there is no need to panic yet. Our outer borders are well patrolled, and we’re still getting up to date reports. The city walls hold strong, but I want to send out patrols to warn the villages of what’s coming. Start closer to the border, and work our way in. Leon?”

“My Lord, I have teams prepared for exactly that already, I just need to give the word and they’ll go.”

“Good. Morgana, I need you to try and keep focusing your visions, if we have even a small idea of how they might try to initiate the first battle, it’ll be a huge advantage.”

“Me and Merlin have been practising some new techniques to control where and when I can see, we’ll write everything down, and ask the Druids if they’ve seen anything as well.”

Arthur holds in a smile at the confidence in her voice. He is unendingly proud of how far his sister had come, and made a mental note to tell her that when all this was over.

“Brilliant, keep me in the loop. Gwen, when we’re done here, go and let the forgery know, the Royal Household will pay them extra to push out as much long range ammunition as they can. Arrows and crossbow bolts, we need as many as they can produce.” Gwen nods, and Arthur finally looks towards Merlin:

“And Merlin, I need you to be ready. Don’t wear yourself out too much in the next few weeks, I need you in good condition, if we’re to win this with minimal casualties-”

He glances over at Morgana before he continues:

“If the two of you could also ask the Druids if they have any volunteer healers. Make sure they know they aren’t obligated to come, but any help in the infirmaries would be greatly appreciated.” Morgana nods once more, as does Merlin, before he speaks:

“There’s a camp a couple hours ride outside the city at the moment, we’ll head out at first light-” He pauses and closes his eyes for a second, tilting his head, before looking to Morgana:

“They’re expecting us.”

Arthur addresses the room again:

“Right. I think that’s all for now, anyone have anything to add?”

Gaius responds after a moment:

“My Lord, if I could make a request for a few servants to help me set up supplies for the infirmary? Extensive preparations will need to be made to ensure that I have all I’ll need. Preferably people with rough herbal knowledge, if at all possible.”

Arthur nods straight away, responding:

“Yes, of course, I’ll ask the Housekeeper and the Steward who they can spare this evening, and they’ll be ready for you in the morning. Anything else?” At the silence in the room, Arthur tells everyone to get to work.

Leon marches straight down to the training grounds (Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan following him) to ring the summoning bell and inform the knights of the developments, and their tasks.

Gwen heads straight to the forgery (her and Elyan still oversee work there, but they have employees (and a few trainees) to run it) to give the Kings order.

Gaius shuffles out, and makes his way back to his quarters, already making mental lists of ingredients needed, and work to be done.

Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin are left, the royal siblings thinking to themselves, and Merlin thinking to someone else. Arthur contemplates that the whole mental link thing he had going on with the Druids was extremely useful.

Both his and Morgana’s thoughts were interrupted by Merlin huffing, and clenching his fists as he opens his eyes, obviously unhappy with whatever was said:

“Merlin?” From Morgana has the Court Sorcerer looking up from scowling at the table. He replies after wiping the frown off his face:

“Oh, it’s fine. They just made a... stupid suggestion is all. Don’t worry about it.”

“Stupid? Doesn’t sound like the Druids. What was it?”

Merlin looks mildly uncomfortable at that, and replies slowly:

“It... doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you another time. It’s late, you should practice some meditation and head to sleep, no potions tonight. And remember to keep some parchment and a quill by your bed, so you can scribble down anything you see-”

Merlin stands abruptly and heads towards the door:

“-I’m going to check the wards on the outer wall, and push a little more energy into the wells. I’ll see you both bright an early.” With that, Merlin heads out the room swiftly.

Arthur looks to his sister questioningly, but she shrugs as she responds:

“Who knows. “I’ll tell you later” means he doesn’t want you to know, OR he’s hoping I’ll forget because he doesn’t want either of us to know. He’s right though, I should meditate for a while-”

Morgana stands at this:

“- hopefully I’ll see you before we head off, if not, I suppose it’ll be dinner in the evening. Good night, brother.” Morgana leaves the room gracefully, heading in the direction of her chambers.

Arthur thinks for only a moment, before rushing off, catching up with Merlin as he readied his horse, preparing for the journey to the outer walls:

“I’ll come with you. I find I quite enjoy watching you do magic, and to be perfectly honest, I could do with some fresh air to help me think.”

Arthur pretends to ignore the slight blush that dusts Merlin’s cheeks, and readies his own horse. The two of them ride out of the stables and make the journey down the cobbled roads in comfortable silence, side by side.

They take their time on the journey, and the 15 minutes of companionable silence is finally broken by Arthur, who looks at Merlin curiously, as he says:

“So what did they suggest?”

Merlin looks up sharply at that, broken from his deep train of thought as he dumbly replies “What?”

“The Druids. What was the stupid suggestion?” Merlin’s eyes widen at that, and he blushes once more as he looks determinedly forward:

“Oh. That. I told you, it doesn’t-”

“Merlin...”

“Oh fine! They suggested that I... that I forge a mental link with you. Like the one I have with them.” The sorcerer purses his lips at that, and continues to avoid Arthur’s gaze:

“You can do that? Well... would it be such a bad idea? I mean we aren’t going to be able to meet and discuss things as often as I’d like through this whole ordeal. AND you’re basically the Kingdom’s powerhouse, I’m sort of relying on your magical know-how here. Surely it wouldn’t be a bad thing? For us to be able to converse across the battle fields?”

Arthur, in an effort to not be hurt, reminds himself that he doesn’t know all that much about magic, and it very well could be a stupid suggestion, instead of one that Merlin is just personally opposed to.

Merlin, in response, looks to Arthur in great shock, before sighing and looking down to his horses mane:

“It.... is possible. And fairly easy, technically. But it would be painful, AND permanent. I wouldn’t be able to undo it after we won. And a temporary connection takes far too much energy to maintain, even for a short time. I just figured you wouldn’t want me in your head for the rest of our lives.” He tries to inject a little humour into his words, but it falls flat, and he just seems sad.

Arthur pretends he doesn’t notice however, and responds quickly:

“How painful are we talking? I mean I’ve been hurt pretty badly before. And... how exactly does it work? Would we be able to read each other’s mind constantly, without the other knowing? Or what?”

Merlin raises his eyebrows in shock at that, and his answer comes out slowly as he looks at Arthur:

“Like... a really bad headache? Imagine the hardest you’ve ever been hit, without passing out. It would last for a few minutes after the connection is initially forged, but would fade slowly over the next day or so. And no. Once the connection is established we wouldn’t be in each other’s head all the time, we would just be able to sort of... project our voices to one another. Other thoughts would be safe, even if you were thinking about me, I wouldn’t hear it unless you were thinking to me... if that makes sense.”

By the end of his explanation, he’s looking nervously at the King, who is deep in thought:

“Hmm. Ok. I... only if you agree but... it might not be a bad idea. Even after the war is over. There have definitely been times where I’ve needed your opinion on something but you’ve been elsewhere, or we’ve been in the presence of someone else. Of course we’ve been fine so far, if you don’t want to, but-”

Merlin interrupts him, speaking quickly:

“I’m fine with it. I agree, it would be useful. So... I can bring what we need back from the camp tomorrow?”

Arthur nods firmly:

“Yes. The sooner the better, we can do it tomorrow evening, if that’s enough time for you?” Merlin once again looks shocked at this, as Arthur stares at him:

“Oh! Yeah, Yes. That’s fine. Like I said, it’s not particularly difficult, and I can ask Gaius to prepare us something for the pain during the day. Are you... are you sure? It is Permanent.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and huffs:

“Yes, you said that already Merlin. Are you sure?”

Merlin nodded his head decidedly, and spoke confidently:

“Yes. You’re right, it’s not a bad idea. Come on, if we hurry, we’ll make it to the walls, and then to the main well, and then back to the castle, before dark.”

The pair of them hurry their horses, and after another 10 minutes of comfortable silence, they finally reach the City Gates.

The guards give a quick bow, and The King and The Court Sorcerer jump off their horses before handing the reigns to one of the Gate stablehands.

Arthur (and the guards) watch in barely concealed wonder as Merlin presses his hands against the rock of the wall, and closes his eyes.

The golden glow can still be seen from below his eyelids, and he hums slightly as he frowns in concentration, seeming to push into the wall.

Arthur sees a short of... sheen, ripple across the rock, and extend into the sky. Merlin steps back and nods, admiring his handy work:

“They’re holding strong, I’ve extended the height as well. Kilgharrah and Aithusa should be the only ones able to get over it without alerting me now, from the air at least-”

Merlin heads to retake his horse, Arthur following him, before he continues:

“Though I still want to check the tunnels again at some point in the next few days.”

“Of course. Relax Merlin, it’s barely begun, and the borders still hold strong. We’ve plenty of time before things kick off in any way.” He makes sure to speak quietly. A public announcement hasn’t been made yet, and it would be bad if rumours started spreading before The King had time to put together a proper disclosure.

Merlin nods distractedly, and urges his horse to go faster as he heads towards the main well, in the town square. It’s late, not long until sunset, so there shouldn’t be many, if any, people there. Arthur speaks again:

“Why are we visiting the well? I wasn’t aware of any problems?”

“There aren’t any, but once the announcement is made, and once the outer villages are told what’s happening, we’ll have hundreds, probably thousands, of people flock to the city for safety. I just want to make sure we’re prepared for such an influx, and boost our water levels a little.”

Arthur nods at his response, but doesn’t say anything. He chooses instead to admire the man Merlin had become. He held himself differently, more strong, confident in who he was. Just like he had back when he was still a manservant, he served Arthur, and his people, above and beyond his job description. Merlin took upon himself, not only the politics he was supposed to oversee, but the personal safety of both the King, and every Camelot citizen, and he did it all with an alarming amount of grace.

Arthur sometimes catches himself thinking that it was almost as if Merlin was built to be a king. He may not like the spotlight, but he was a protector, and leader, unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you, Merlin. It feels like years ago now, that you yelled at me in a forest.” He says it with a grin, but Merlin flinches. He continues before The Sorcerer interrupts him though:

“Really Merlin. Thank you. You were right, I would’ve got there in the end, but it wasn’t fair for people to suffer in the mean time, and you took the fall in their place. You’re a hero to your people... and to me. You should be proud of your accomplishments, I know I am.”

Arthur resists the urge to duck his head as Merlin looks at him in bewilderment, a definite flush on his cheeks as he replies:

“I... thank you, Arthur. I always had faith in you-” Merlin begins to grin before he continues:

“-and besides, someone had to knock you down a peg. Perhaps you should hire someone to take you into the forest and yell at you every once in a while.”

Arthur laughs at that, and Merlin tries to push down the blush as Arthur responds:

“Now Merlin, why on earth would I hire someone for such a job, when I already have you?”

Merlin chuckles as he answers:

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it, My Lord. Hold the horses, I’ll just be a minute.” With that, Arthur realises they’ve made it to the well, and dismounts as Merlin has, holding both of the horses reigns as he watches Merlin approach the well.

The Sorcerer crouches down, and once again closes his eyes in concentration as he presses his hands into the stone of the well. The glow is a little less bright this time, but Arthur admires it nonetheless.

Merlin finishes quickly, and gathers his horse from Arthur once more, nodding towards the castle.

Arthur follows as Merlin hurries towards the looming building. He wasn’t sure why he was in such a rush, but he only begins questions it when Merlin hurriedly hands the horses of to a stablehand, and continues to run up the castle steps.

Arthur can only just keep up with Merlin, not having the breath to ask him what’s wrong, before Merlin suddenly comes to a stop, catching his breath for a moment to go through a door leading to the highest balcony on the West of the castle:

“Merlin... what.... what are you-”

Merlin wordlessly interrupts The King as he points to the skyline, the sun only a few minutes away from touching the horizon.

There’s not a cloud in sight, and the sky is painted in oranges and pinks in front of them, bleeding into deep purples and blues behind the castle.

Merlin finally mutters, not looking away from the sunset:

“Call me a girl all you want Arthur, but nothing compares to this. It’s beautiful, I come to watch it whenever I’ve got the time.”

Arthur had only glanced briefly at the sunset before looking back at Merlin in wonder, a fond smile on his face (not that Merlin would notice).

He stares at the side of Merlin’s face, the orange sky making the gold in his eyes look even brighter, and the glare of the fading sun making his hair shine. A gentle breeze has Merlin shiver slightly, and Arthur’s smile widens as he responds, so quietly he’s not even sure if Merlin hears him:

“Hmm. Beautiful.” He doesn’t look away.

THIS IS COMPLETED! All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific let me know✌️

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heyitsyn · 4 years ago

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Manager!Seijoh Part 8

a/n: okay so since my halloween special was a flop ill write this instead but uwuwuwuwu its also my birthday today so hehe this is kinda a special request too :D

WAIT YOU GUYS THIS IS TOTALLY IRRELEVANT IF YOURE NOT A POTTERHEAD BUT OMG I SHARE THE SAME BIRTHDAY AS SIRIUS BLACK LIKE WHAT :”) I THINK I SAVED A COUNTRY IN MY PAST LIFE OR SOMETHING :”)

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

anon:

- IF IT WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY! omg :0 i think we can all agree that the ramen shop will get GOOD BUSINESS that day. but it was a total surprise when the upperclassmen basically JUMP you after exiting your last class. vball practice? deliberately cancelled cuz today is YOUR day. kyo leading you, iwa making sure your eyes are closed while oikawa keeps teasing you on how you’re letting a group of men take you BLIND (cue the PUNCH). your smile is worth the XXX amount spent c,:

LOOK HOW CUTE MATTSUHANA ARE IN THIS LIKE OMG ITS LIKE IWAOI SPIRIT SWITCHED W THEIRS AND NOW IWAOI HAVE TO PULL THEM APART INSTEAD OF THE OTHER WAY AROUND

okay yay happy birthday to me uwu

i kinda put this request off since my borfday was right around the corner so hahaha to the anon who requested this, here it is!!!

okay anyways!!!

so today is your borfday

obvs this could be any day lmao it doesnt have to be today but it can be any day just pretend the calendar was different lmao

you were born today and your parents and natsu obvs celebrated it the morning you woke up

like you were peacefully holding your squirtle plushie and snuggling close to get more sleep bc it was still early

but natsu quite literally kicked your door down and your parents walked in with a large cake with candles

STEPBRO WHAT ARE YOU-

okay ill stop now

ofc you were startled bc what the hek

like you were so surprised that you rolled off the bed and landed harshly on the floor

instead of being yanno ‘yey! its my borfday!’ you were like ‘dear asahi kill me’

waking you up at the buttcrack of dawn?

lmao 10/10 not recommend

natsu felt really bad and he pulled you up from the floor and situated you back on the bed while your parents backtracked back downstairs

‘ohmygosh babygirl im so sorry i didnt mean to hulk smash you to the floor’

im sorry sir what 💀

this whore

you waved him off but he still felt guilty so he just pressed kisses to your forehead to soothe it

meanwhile youre just leaning against him, eyes closed, bc you grew up with natsu always doing this whenever you got hurt so it was such a soff moment for you

eventually, he was able to bring you downstairs and your parents were lowkey scared lmao but you smiled at them

‘thank you for the cake’

they breathed a sigh of relief and you sat down on the chair to eat breakfast

‘here darling’

you accepted the bowl of rice from your madre and you ate your birthday breakfast with them while yall are saving the cake for later during dinner

when you finished, you were getting up and shouting up the stairs that you were showering first

hehe natsu was all like ‘lmao why? its like 4 in the morning’

you froze, foot hovering over a step and you sighed

‘excuse me what 💀‘

yea no

you were dragged back to the kitchen and you were all pouty bc duh who the hek wants to wake up that early but your parents saved themselves by giving you your parents early

(literally anything you guys want they gave you okay? but only like 3 lmao not a bajillion things)

you were still grateful for everything and you felt very much appreciated

since it was still early, you just decided to screw it and got ready to go to school early and set up the gym for early morning practice

natsu volunteered to go with you to school but you shook your head

‘nah, im okay. the walk is peaceful’

he huffed, crossing his arms, but nodded anyways

‘fine. only because its your birthday’

hehehehe the amount of freedom during your day of birth

you were of course the first one in the gym but you didnt mind bc you actually liked the quietness that was so rare inside there

you turned on some (f/m) (lmao favorite/music) and you were sweeping, unknowingly swaying and dancing slightly

at around 5:40, the third years have arrived and since theyre the eldest, they usually get there first

omg the blush explosion on their faces when they saw you twirling around with the mop and ofc oikawa being the little poopie head he is, he swooped in and held your waist

you got startled but seeing the soft brown eyes of your captain made a soft smile appear on your face

‘hello, oikawa-san’

you whispered and he nuzzled his face to the side of your head softly

‘morning, y/n-chan’

before he could go on, iwa threw him away behind him and you giggled

mattsun raised an eyebrow at your odd behavior

‘hm? why are you so happy today, y/n-chan?’

you stopped then chuckled

‘nothing much, mattsun-san’

you didnt really want to tell them it was your birthday bc tbh you didnt think it was a big deal or anything

the others werent complaining bc they rarely see you so lively and upbeat and they loved it

you were humming under your breath for gods sake

the other boys have trickled in and again, they also went ‘?’

your soft smiles, giggles, and joy was everything to them

god bless for this beautiful morning

poor kindaichi cowered in fright as he braced himself for a scolding from you for missing a block but he got even more scared when you just patted his head

‘its okay, yuu-kun. there’s always a next time’

yea there was something wrong

unfortunately, school was starting and they weren’t able to start questioning you and there aint no way kindaichi and kunimi were going to do that themselves without the upperclassmen who could calm you down if you got too defensive

you were skipping down the hallway and you even looped your arms around your first year friends and they shared a confused look before being dragged by you

during class, darling kunimi was too busy and distracted by your quiet singing of some show that takeru watched when you were over

‘KUNIMI-SAN, IS MATH SO BORING THAT YOU FIND INTEREST ON L/N-SAN INSTEAD?’

yes, yes it is

but he didnt say that and instead turned away so fast that you felt the wind beside you

DID A 180 CRAZY~~~

he texted the separate bros group chat about you still being all happy and they were all curious as to what makes you so happy

during lunch time, kindaichi usually went over to go eat with you and kunimi right?

but he was surprised when he just saw kunimi there without you

‘wh-’

‘i dont know’

‘what do you mean you dont know?!’

nah fam we not dying yet

natsu texted you earlier that he had a bento for you that he made himself and he wanted you to eat it instead of the one your mom made

you were passing by the building entrance door thingy and caught the attention of the third years who were at the rooftop eating their lunch

there was also other students outside and they watched your flowery aura skip over to the equally attractive hiroshi natsu

‘y/n-chan~’

he cooed and you smiled up at him

curse him and his tall height

he let you hold the f/c cloth covered box so he could cup your face and kiss over your booboo again

‘wo mow, matsu-’

translation: no more, natsu!

you whined as he kept kissing your forehead and you were turning red at the attention from the other students

dang oikawa crushed his juice box at the sight even though he knew natsu was just a cousin

‘ill save you, y/n-chan!’

he shouted, already flying down the stairs towards you and the other third years after him to keep him from doing something stupid

but they also lowkey wanna see you too

but by the time they reached the entrance, you were already walking away and even passed by the quartet, giving them a close-eyed smile and a cute ‘hello!’

the 3 were distracted by you and were coddling you while oikawa ran out and shouted after natsu’s retreating form

‘natsu! oi, natsu!’

as if the boy was purposely ignoring him, natsu kept walking forward

‘HIROSHI NATSU!’

his scream finally made him turn around and natsu’s face held a teasing smirk

‘oya? chibi-chan?’

KDJFSLFDFKDSJKFD YES YOU CALLED?

oikawa huffed and panted as he firmly walked over to natsu

‘tell me, hiroshi natsu. why is y/n-chan all cutesy and happy today?’

then the smirk fell, replaced by an actual, genuine annoyed look

‘hah?’

oikawa blinked

‘what do you mean ‘hah’?’

natsu waved his hands around in a frenzy of shock

‘so you mean to tell me, you, oikawa tooru, the dude who literally woke up the neighborhood at the buttcrack of dawn a few weeks ago, in love with my cousin, doesn’t know what today is?’

‘was i supposed to,,,, know?’

KSDLFJSDKFJDS THIS DUDE

natsu’s face became a meme and the guy was so disappointed that he just turned around and continued walking

oikawa gasped and clutched natsu’s arm, begging and pleading to tell him

ofc the little shite natsu is, he smirked down at oikawa’s kneeling form

‘hmm, gotta say, chibi-kun. i like this view~’

KDSLFJSDKFJLSDKFJDKS WHOS CHILD ARE YOU, HIROSHI NATSU

‘tell me, natsu-chan!’

the puppy eyes of oikawa tooru not only affected girls but also boys fully socked homosexual boys so natsu had to turn away, fighting down a blush

stay loyal to katsuki

wait, no, probably tetsu

or kenma

or both

or keiji

‘-me! natsu-chan!’

that snapped the pink-haired boy out of his thoughts and crossed his arms, glaring down at oikawa

‘hm, why do you wanna know so bad? youre on your knees, begging me for information you shouldve already known since you claim to like her so much’

oikawa pouted and he sniffled

‘i wanna know everything about y/n-chan. i wanna know what today is so i can make her as happy as she is today forever!’

‘youre so cheesy’

natsu chided and oikawa pouted even harder causing natsu to sigh and pinch his nose

‘the girl was born today’

oikawa’s face lit up and he hurriedly stood on his feet, hands on natsu’s biceps since he could barely reach natsu’s shoulders bc of his 6′5 height

‘its her birthday today?!’

‘i literally just said that-’

‘oh my gosh! we need to plan something!’

oikawa started but then frowned

‘but we’re in school so it would be too late to do a surprise when we finish’

his mumbles

filled their vicinity and natsu finally realized where exactly they were so he tugged the still mumbling boy over to the side out of people’s view

ohmygosh if i saw 2 handsome, tall, hot boys there, id be staring too omg

‘oi, oikawa’

he still didnt budge until natsu had to kick him at the leg

rip not his knee yall

tooru flinched and hatefully glared at the boy but natsu pointedly glared at him right back

‘before you start bitching to me, i was just gonna suggest i can help you and your little plan to woo my baby cousin’

as if he wasn’t irritated in the first place, tooru lit up and he excitedly clung onto natsu

‘really? you’ll really help me?’

natsu rolled his eyes and tried to pry the brunette off of him but he felt the grip tighten

‘listen, oikawa, as much as i like having pretty boys hang on to me, i’d really appreciate if you just back off a bit and actually understand what im saying’

can i just say how long their lunch break is?

and not at natsu trying to get with oikawa and oikawa completely missing it

‘you can go do your education scam system thing while i can go set things up over at that one noodle place she likes’

natsu explained

oikawa was about to smile until he paused and leaned away

‘theres a catch. i know theres a catch’

then natsu smirked, confirming oikawa’s suspicion

‘ill think about what i really want but for now, i just wanna see that one doggie boy you guys have. also, your friend with the big arms’

lmao imagine the surprise in oikawa’s face

‘YOU GO FOR THEM BUT NOT ME?!’

‘why? you want me to?’

‘YES! i mean, well-no but YES!’

‘*sigh*’

thats how oikawa ended up telling the boys about the last minute birthday surprise for you and the help from natsu

‘yea, apparently its her birthday. also, iwa-chan, kyoken-chan, you need to talk to natsu-chan’

‘hah?! why?!’

‘THAT IDIOT?!’

you were minding your own business during class until you saw kunimi raise his hand

‘yes, kunimi-kun?’

‘bathroom’

normally, you wouldve just looked away but you noticed him grab his bag when the teacher wasn’t looking which prompted you to sigh since he was skipping class

i mean, whats the point of skipping class when the day is about to be over in like 15 minutes anyways?

‘make sure to come to practice’

you whispered when he passed and he smiled, making you raise an eyebrow bc that was a smile you knew that had a hidden meaning behind it

when the bell rang, everyone nyoomed themselves out of there and you were just walking past the door when a body came crashing to you which made you distracted and allowed a chance of vulnerability

there was a pair of hands covered your eyes from behind, hands grabbed your own from in front, and an arm around your waist started to guide you forward

‘um, just so you know, i have the power of god, anime, and iwa-san by my side and i wont hesitate to kick you in the di-’

‘its so cute when y/n-chan threatens us’

a voice from in front of you hums and you smiled

‘you wont think im really cute once youre on the floor clutching your di-’

‘oi, y/n, ill wash your tongue with soap’

‘yes, iwa-san’

you continued to walk, completely trusting at the hands of your boys, when you felt yourself being pulled to turn a corner

‘iwa-san? aren’t we going to the gym? why are we exiting the gates?’

the boys exchanged a look of amazement at your sense of intuition and the accuracy of your guess despite being deprived of your senses

‘dont think you can lie to us, y/n-chan! how could you not tell us its your birthday today?!’

you heard mattsun a few feet in front of you whine and you giggled

‘its not important’

then kyotani scoffed, you knowing it was him by feeling him twitch by the arm around your waist

‘boke, of course its important’

‘so your punishment for lying to us, we’re kidnapping you’

makki teased and you rolled your eyes beneath iwa’s hands

‘oh, shiver me timbers’

the walk continued, you still being dragged around, and you heard oikawa laugh

‘oh dear, its a sight to see, ain’t it? if only you can see the looks people are giving us, y/n-chan~ a group of boys taking a little girl like you? how could you trust us to not do something to you-ACK!’

you cut him off when you lifted your foot to kick right where it hurts the most

forget his weewee

its the knee

poor child crumbled to the floor and had to be picked up by baby watari

‘oh wata-cchi, youre the only one who cares about oikawa-san!’

you heavily sighed at the exagerrated theatrics of your captain

‘the one day. the one day when he could be a normal person for once’

you grumbled but stopped when you heard iwa laugh by your ear

‘he’s right you know. you technically lied to us when we asked if there was something special’

you shivered and you leaned your head back

‘its okay, iwa-san. we can talk about it after this event. make sure to give me my present, okay?’

SKDLFJSDKFJDSKFLDS GIRL NO I CANT I WANNA JUMP-

but iwa chuckled and he promised you that you would love his present

kyotani’s arm tightened around you, as if prompting you that he was still there and he wanted your attention too

‘careful there, pup’

he warned when you almost tripped over air

‘hehe, i know ill always be safe when youre next to me, kyo-san’

you teased and he was lucky your eyes were covered bc you would see the way his cheeks tinted red

‘s-shut up, idiot! maybe i shouldve just let you fall and hit your head! not like its gonna do damage since theres nothing there anyways!’

you just giggled and he retaliated by pinching your waist to which you squealed and gripped his hands

then the smell of the ramen broth entered your nose

‘are we-?’

‘nope! not there yet, y/n-chan!’

oikawa’s voice made you whine and complain but then he stopped, making everyone else stop too

‘okay, iwa-chan, kyoken-chan, release her!’

both grumbled something about you being treated like a pokemon but stopped when your eyes widened and contorted into confusion

‘huh?’

oikawa grinned and your eyes met to see the way his eyes crinkled, a tell-tale sign that this one was a rare genuine smile

‘come on! lets go!’

you let him take you inside the restaurant until your feet stopped, eyes wide when you noticed the streamers and the cake by the corner

your parents stood with natsu by the table and a large smile decorated your face

‘you,, you did this for me?’

you whispered and the team made noises of agreement

‘we had to do something for you to celebrate the day you were born. its a special day because you came into the world and we were able to meet you’

yahaba grinned and you gave him a big hug but you leaned back a bit so that the others would know you’re talking to them too

‘everyone, thank you. i love you’

they all scoffed a bit to hide their flustered state but they still smiled and each gave you a hug

‘oi! come here and eat the food! oikawa’s paying today!’

natsu shouted, which caught the attention of some customers in the restaurant, but they just ignored it bc theyve seen you and the team so many times that yall practically lived there

‘what?! i didnt-’

oikawa started but your mother came up to him and clasped her hands to his, sharing the same exact grin you have

‘you must be oikawa tooru. y/n has told me loads about you’

excuse him while he descends to heaven bc your mother is practically another you

iwa was already acquainted with your dad so they started talking and you just stood back, observing your two families interact with each other

you were so unbelievably happy that it hurts

kindaichi noticed you and he slinked away from the debate between makki and mattsun to go sling an arm around you

‘so? what do you think?’

you turned to him with glassy eyes

‘im so blessed. so blessed to have these amazing people with me’

poor babie panicked a bit bc he didnt really know how to comfort a crying girl but he just wrapped his arms around you

‘hehe, its kinda the other way around actually. we’re blessed to have someone like you’

he whispered and you giggled then playfully hit his shoulder

‘so cheesy, yuu-kun’

he leaned away from the hug and gave you an offended look

‘but its true! i dont know what we did to have-’

‘Y/N-CHAN! NO! HELP!’

oikawa shouted from the other side, cutting off your soft moment with kindaichi

‘what are you doing, natsu?’

you noticed your cousin wrapping his arms around your captain and trying to drag him away but poor tooru was scrambling to escape

‘we made a deal, didnt we, darling~? i know what i want now and youre going to have to give me you’

oikawa screamed

a/n: can we please pretend i posted this on november 3? bc i was dumb and forgot to post this and KLDJLSDKFJDSKD IM SO ANGRY but its okay at least i am able to publish this haha

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incoherentbabblings · 3 years ago

Note

87 + 95 timsteph fluff please

FLUFF.

Thank you for being so patient whilst I worked on this one!

Birthday Ask Game

87. “You’re so adorable.” + 95. “Come cuddle.”

Tim was wrapped up on the sofa, nothing more than a bleary face peering out from a thick duvet. Stephanie moved around him, herself wearing a woollen hat, gloves, scarf, and one of Tim’s thick sweatshirts. The heating was broken, and it wouldn’t be until the evening that an engineer could get the apartment to fix what had snapped. Tim had tried, muttering that he was more than capable, only to realise he did not have the parts necessary to do the job. Stephanie had snorted, and asked that they let the professional do their job.

Tim was glaring at the six empty mugs on the coffee table. He couldn’t justify making a fourth hot drink, his insides and bladder could not take it.

His girlfriend collapsed in the armchair nearby, throwing balls of wool to the floor, and, to Tim’s surprise, began to knit.

He watched her make a slipknot, cast on thread, then set to work. She did so in the quiet, only the humming of the refrigerator behind them filling the silence. She had a small smile on her face as she worked, and occasionally looked over to a notepad on the table, scribbled notes with maths and measurements and fractions laid out. Her fingers moved quickly, though every now and then she sighed, and methodically unpicked what must have been about half an hour’s worth of work. Tim tried to focus on his own book but found watching her much more relaxing.

“What are you making?” he asked. He deliberately kept his voice low, unwilling to disrupt the feeling of peace. Her smile widened, pearly teeth showing.

“Guess.”

He peered at the shape she had created thus far. A circle, like a hole for a neck. The wool she was using was grey, but there was also some red and white in there too.

“Sweater?” he guessed. She made an affirmative noise and held it up so he could better see. Tim sighed. “You’re so clever.”

She giggled. “And you’re a flirt.”

“Not flattery, believe me. I couldn’t do that.”

She rolled her eyes, as if Tim were the golden standard for cleverness. “You could if you were taught,” she argued back. “I taught myself. So could you. I could show you, if you wanted sometime too.”

Tim grumbled, saddened that she didn’t take the compliment. He began to retreat further into his cocoon of warmth, when Stephanie spoke again, her smile having turned into a playful smirk. “There’s a curse you know. On couples who knit sweaters.”

“What? Seriously?”

Stephanie’s smirk became impossibly mischievous. “Yahuh. The sweater curse. Anyone who makes a sweater for their significant other will have their relationship end after it has been completed and received. Sometimes even before.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Who’s the sweater for, Steph?”

“Who do you think dumbo?” she had the nerve to laugh.

An awkward pause, then, “Is this a roundabout way of telling me you want to break up?”

Violet eyes rolled so dramatically Tim could have sworn Stephanie saw the back of her own skull. “That depends on you, really.”

“Me?” he asked, giddy in an anxious and confused sort of way.

“There’s no such thing as a curse,” she explained, endlessly looping and knitting and knotting. “The couples break up because the recipient doesn’t understand how many hours goes into something like this, and is they aren’t suitably grateful. They never asked for it in the first place; maybe the design is really cringe; it’s putting unnecessary pressure on the recipient to be grateful for a gift they never wanted. Maybe the knitter is trying to desperately save a failing relationship through a big act of love. The sweater… the knitting… it’s just the final straw. A lack of communication and a whole lot of wasted yarn.”

Tim stared at Stephanie’s expression, trying to see if anything of what she spoke of was valid within their own relationship. He’d thought things were going well, broken boiler aside. She was only smiling, cheeks red from the cold and a blush that made her look very inviting.

“So why…” he enquired.

“Because curses aren’t real,” she stated simply. “And I think I know what you like. And this winter is gonna be a rough one. And you can never have too many sweaters. And you’ve liked everything else I’ve made you before. Your wallet?”

“Still impressed by your leather craftsmanship there.”

She nodded approvingly. “And I made you one of you shirts for work.”

“Mmhmm.”

There was a whole lot of bragging power in that. A smug slightly waspish sort of sentiment that was used against the most judgemental of work colleagues.

My girlfriend made me this shirt. What has your partner done for you recently? Brought home some flowers? Oh, how quaint.

“So, this is just something else I want to do for you. Makes me feel productive, if nothing else. See the pattern? Be sure you like it.”

She reached across for her notes – which Tim only then saw was a grid rather than lined paper – and flipped to the correct page, holding up in front of her face for Tim to inspect.

He immediately grinned. “I like it.”

Her tanned face appeared from behind the coloured pattern, craning her neck. “Yeah?”

“No curse here,” he stated.

She set the pages down. “No. Just a lot of love. And the need to keep my fingers warm.”

“You’re so adorable.”

Whistling a sharp sound, Stephanie returned to her work. “Well, that’s not patronising.”

“Come cuddle.”

The duvet wiggled invitingly, Tim’s smug face teasingly smiling at her. Narrowing her eyes, she continued to knit.

“No, no. You want to bring the curse down after all? Gotta keep working.”

“Wanna snuggle,” he muttered, clambering to his feet.

“No, Tim.” The white cloud moved over to where she was, and she squealed, laughing and squirming. “Tim!”

He practically fell on top of her, clambering in her lap and wrapping her up inside their bedsheets. It smelled like him and was very warm. They fumbled around for a bit, straddling and trying to get the pointy needles out from the cocoon and away from Tim’s stomach. He got what wanted though, Stephanie wrapped her arms around his middle, and pressed her face into his chest.

“You’re only getting away with this,” she complained, ignoring his smug face, “’cause you don’t know how our plumbing works. If our radiators were working you’d be getting nothing.”

He kissed the crown of her head over and over, nuzzling in tight.

“Sure, sure. Still, thank you. For cuddles and sweater both.”

He felt her cheeks warm, even through his thick hoodie.

“…You’re welcome.”

#dc #timsteph #my fic tag #tim drake #stephanie brown

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strikingtwelves · 3 years ago

Note

♫ Guess who's back ♫ ♫ Back again ♫ It's me. I'm back.

Only for today though. I wasn't planning on being here at all but that episode forced my hand.

(With that in mind, please don't mention anything that may or may not have been announced about upcoming episodes.)

Here we go:

THASMIN THASMIN THASMIN THASMIN THASMIN Did I mention Thasmin because THASMIN ThAsMiN

Dan really said "These two idiots will never in a million years talk to each other guess I'd better do it myself". He seriously waited just long enough to get confirmation from Yaz and then immediately turned around and told 13 lol

During that first "weirdo with a good heart" scene I 1. Knew this had to be deliberate with the editing and 2. Kept thinking about the "my person's a bit different" scene from THOVD.

Also just, Dan being so observant and repeating all the stuff we've been saying about those 2 - loved it.

Does the Doctor reciprocate? I think it's up in the air atm. We'll just have to wait and see.

O.K, now onto the non-thasmin observations:

"New Year's is a great time to find a man" - While those two were hiding by the crates downstairs I felt the romance coming and I wasn't onboard at first, but then I remembered this line and I thought it was so funny that I became okay with it.

(My brain went: "Yeah, it sure is!")

Time Loops! It was in the trailer, but still. Fun! Exciting!

The danger felt real and awesome, I thought. There was tension the whole time. But also, I thought it balanced well with the interpersonal scenes. I didn't feel like I was yelling at the screen for them to stop wasting time.

They kept showing her phone at the beginning of the loops, which I'm sure was supposed to be a clue to the loop shrinking before they told us. However, I had to infer that the time on it was probably different because it was written with 23 instead of 11. I'm dyscalculic and couldn't read the unfamiliar format fast enough. Thankfully I'm familiar with time loop stories so I got the same effect ultimately.

Jeff was definitely using that place as a survival bunker, right? But poorly.

"'Just go!' 'Wait no, I'm sorry'-" the GROWTH

Dan running around the Dalek: *chef's kiss*. Actually that whole scene was brilliant

The woman who ran that place (I can't remember her name rip) being a total disaster? Amazing.

"The whole time loop is contained to this building" is it though? I mean, her mom was getting reset too

Also still curious if the flux is supposed to be reversed or not. Dan said she saved the universe last week and they all seemed rather chipper. But it was a small enough episode and clearly very soon after that, so I could see it going either way.

Dan and Yaz having nicknames for each other!!! You can really feel how they spent all that time together and it's so real. They feel different than at the beginning of s13.

Nick being a sweetheart in his own way by saving all that stuff just in case

"Traveling the world with a man I just met" Oh don't worry it wouldn't be the first time

I really thought for a while that they were adding a dalek each loop

If it weren't for the voices being different I would have thought it was the same one being replicated

I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed just how quickly everyone figured out it was a time loop. Usually my favorite part is watching everyone figure it out, I get annoyed when it happens too fast. But here it felt like it allowed them to do more.

I would never ever want to stand that near fireworks, they scare me and they're so LOUD lol.

When she was cornered in the elevator and said "That's not fair" - I don't know why but that really got to me. Just, the utter despair. Right after the Doctor had given her hope.

I'm sure there's more, but as soon as they showed Yaz staring at the Doctor during the "weirdo with a good heart" scene it kind of blocked everything else from my mind.

So with that, I shall disappear back into the void. See you around!

NOOO COME BACK BC L I S T E N ok

I'm just gonna say the same thing I've been saying everywhere which is that I was COMPLETELY and utterly surprised by the thasmin confirmation. I realize now that I simply didn't have enough faith in Chibnall's writing to think that he was actually laying crumbs that would be followed up on LIKE THAT. And like, that's really really not me trying to hate on him bc i LOVE chibs but I just ??? REALLY didn't think this was gonna happen. I thought it was natural heart eyes being had. Was very very pleasantly surprised

What shook me even more than Yaz admitting her feelings was Dan so BLATANTLY bringing them up to the Doctor as soon as he had the chance. Like,,, they're not dragging us along at all now. Only two episodes left. We're comin out swingin

I don't ship it ship it bc I'm weird with doctor/companion dynamics, like I totally believe that the Doctor loves her to death but it's not the same type of love Yaz feels, yk? I could go on about that, idk if you've read we're with you whatever happens but i wrote a lot about my hc's there a couple years ago.

i'm just, over the moon about this tbh. Yaz is canonically queer, the Doctor KNOWS Yaz has feelings for her and is terrified of where that'll lead. Looking back, all the clues I dismissed were, in fact, clues. I'm still processing this omg

the "Just go- wait no I'm sorry!" YEAH NO THAT KILLED ME IN A GOOD WAY. It's such a simple but effective demonstration of that growth. She's trying. She's doing better. Love that for her

Sarah (the woman who runs the unit) GOD I adored her character and really wish she were in more than one episode. Can't even place what exactly I loved about her so much, yeah she was funny, but I think she gave me some Missy and Clara vibes too. Really good character. So was Nick, absolutely loved him, but I'm a Sarah stan today

I was gonna add something else but can't remember what it was so, I'll wave you off as you return to the abyss. See you in spring ig??

#BYE FRIEND TAKE CARE #asks #tapdancingdalek #dw spoilers

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ryouverua · 4 years ago

Note

Which parts about Gou make you vibe with it? Personally speaking, especially after ep 22, it just seems like a big Satoko character assassination and betrayal of og Higurashi's themes - it doesn't feel like there's any heart or meaning to it. But I am of the opinion Higurashi, with its ending, didn't need a sequel to begin with. This isn't mean to come across as confrontational, I'm just genuinely curious.

1) You’re absolutely valid, anon - and tbh, my feelings might change depending on how the last few episodes go (and also on whether there is a season 2 because I really cannot see how things can wrap up with the time we have left) and 2) apologies if this comes out as a mess, because this answer is going to be pretty free-form.

So first of all, I do actually agree with Higurashi not needing this sequel. I enjoy the fact that it exists, but I think it’s better to treat it as ‘canon, but separate’ as opposed to canon, if that makes sense? If people want to go and consider this non-canon, I think that’s okay. In fact, I think the canon Matsuribayashi is still ongoing with Rika alive and Satoko bitter, and upset and... well, multiple ways that could turn out. The first ‘loop’ Satoko experiences starts when she goes to the shrine and touches (Oyashiro? Featherine? whoever’s) horn, with no death whatsoever. The Rika and Satoko in that world don’t die (which is actually something that struck me as odd last ep, but I think was done deliberately - there’s a canon fragment where they just... live and grow apart, and whether we’ll get resolution on that is yet to be seen).

As for the Higurashi themes... interestingly, I’m not 100% sure it does betray them. Friendship, communication, working together - and their subsequent breakdowns - led to this. People grow older and follow different paths, it’s true. Mion, Keiichi, and Rena follow their own paths, hopefully well-adjusted, and knowing they have a home to go back to. Rika feels secure in knowing that she has her friend group to fall back on and Satoko at her side. And Satoko...

Well, this Satoko is fresh off of Matsuribayashi. Even if she has the implied growth of past timelines like the others do, she never experiences those shining moments of triumph from Meakashi-hen & Minagoroshi first-hand. And even if she had one of them, a single moment of triumph doesn’t overwrite years of co-dependent tendencies (which Rika certainly encouraged - there are plenty of times in Minagoroshi where she said that a life without Satoko is pointless, which is admirable up until the point that she gets outside of the bird cage and just.... doesn’t follow through with that anymore). This is definitely where the lengthy POV narration of the VN would really come in handy, because this negative-character arc she’s going through actually does seem feasible to me.

I’m going to switch gears to mention something I found really interesting about today’s episode - the bookstore scene. I think that was the point of no return - Satoko, if Rika hadn’t chased after her and kept insisting that Satoko could and should share her dream and talked over her concerns (when she was very clearly upset!), may have walked away, and I find that fascinating.

I don’t really talk about it much here, but Rika isn’t that high on my character list. She’s a great character, and she doesn’t deserve any of what she’s going through, but for whatever reason I’ve always enjoyed the others more - which is why I enjoy it when they showcase the flaws born from her looping. And I gotta say, when she started talking over Satoko’s clear anger and upset about not being able to function in a school environment, not being able to keep up with the homework, how she wouldn’t fit in *** and kept insisting that she wanted to share her dream with Satoko, I couldn’t help but think - Rika, why aren’t you asking what Satoko’s dream is? I know you want to keep Satoko by your side because she was always your comfort for the last 100 years, but your Protagonist Complex is showing - Rika has a bad tendency of thinking of the world as centered around her (which was beaten into her by being the Queen Carrier, by the fate of the village being affected by her death, etc etc), and it reared its head in that moment right when Satoko was ripe with anger and spite from the last loop just ending. Hinamizawa finally accepted Satoko as a part of the village again, but then she experiences that same alienation twice over 10 years with the only family seemingly abandoning her so I just... can’t help but understand her a little bit, in that sense. Having Rika insisting that Satoko come anyway and ‘it’ll be fine’ despite Satoko saying, ‘no, no, it really won’t’ be without communicating why she knows that - that she experienced it twice now - does seem to fit in with the Higurashi experience in that sense.

Gosh, I don’t know if this is all coherent but I should probably post for now, and I can elaborate with more focus on what you’d like if you want to hear more thoughts.

*I’ve been seeing people say ‘She went evil just because she didn’t want to do homework’ which is fine as a joke but I will Fight the ones who are serious

**This is a little personal but I actually uh. Actually have some experience with a friendship gone sour after following a good friend to post-secondary school and I won’t go into the details (though I can thankfully confirm I did not go on a time-loop murdering spree) but suffice it to say, Satoko’s feelings of heartbreak resonated with me in an uncomfortably personal way, oops

***Where is Shion?!?!?! Shion is clearly the missing answer. Shion will solve EVERYTHING

#spoilers #Anonymous #higurashi gou spoilers #no seriously I'm sorry if this is incoherent or doesn't really answer your questions #I'm still in the post-ep high where my brain is trying to process Everything #anyway did you know that today's ep landed on 3/4 #so that's fun #also hell I might actually be a biased viewer.... for the wrong side which is an interesting experience #higurashi no naku koro ni #Rika Furude #satoko houjou

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bottleofspilledink · 4 years ago

Text

God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter XII

Eve arrived at school at exactly seven in the morning, a whole hour before class was supposed to start. She had gotten there in record time too, legs sore with how eager she was to leave the house.

You see, Eve had miscalculated her father’s arrival.

Severely.

Rather than arriving as she had slept, he walked through the door just in time for breakfast. Shirt crumpled, hair ruffled, a sated look in his brown eyes. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. They were too tired for that. Yes, long gone was the happy couple trying to make it all work. In their place, the shell of who they once were, wilting husks with only overwhelming sadness and a want for temporary pleasure filling it.

Breakfast was somehow worse than dinner. Far from suffocating, she felt as if she were choking despite how well she chewed her serving of eggs. The dining room, already nowhere near welcoming before, seemed to taint everything in it, the sour mood permeating it seeping into her orange juice, making it taste as if it had gone bad weeks ago. (It hadn’t, though. She even helped her mother load groceries into the refrigerator. The juice had been there for no more than two days.)

Eve sat on that on a wooden courtyard bench, the very same one she sat on just eleven days ago, legs sore from how fast she pedaled, aching almost as much as she ached to get out of that horrid hou-

“Shut up.” Her mind echoed. It was painful, how hard she hard to try to stop herself from saying things she shouldn’t, from doing things she shouldn’t. “You should be grateful you even have a family. You know how people here feel about broken homes and single moms…”

“Eve!” Elizabeth came up from behind her, slender arms wrapping around her in a hug. She was in a good mood, giggling behind her manicured hands, cheeks tinted the signature pink of love – or simply infatuation. It was hard to tell, really, if your friend truly loved a man when you yourself were incapable of such things, try as she might, no matter how hard she forced herself to.

Nothing came of it. Nothing would ever come of it.

“So, I’m assuming you had a fun night?”

Just because Eve didn’t understand what was so thrilling about kissing boys and all that came after it, didn’t mean she wouldn’t listen to Elizabeth’s excited ramblings of it. She knew what was expected of her. One day, hopefully not one day soon, she would find a boy she could tolerate, a decent one she would at least come to love as a friend; she would marry him and lie with him, as a good wife does and bear his children.

And she would tolerate it.

Just because she was like Lilith, didn’t mean she had to act like her, didn’t mean she had to act on what she felt for her.

“Not just a night!” Elizabeth’s dark eyes twinkled, gesturing wildly and almost obscenely with her hands. “I was with him every night during the weekend and Monday night. I got Mary to vouch for me so we could go out.”

“Out?”

The brunette nodded, clearly deliberate in stating that they went out in order to say: “He just got his driver’s license so we went out on his motorcycle to celebrate!”

“Motorcycle?” Eve perked up, pleasantly surprised her friend wasn’t here to brag about her sex life and the fact that Zachariah could drive. (Really, the last thing she needed was a detailed description of a blowjob, especially considering that her breakfast wasn’t sitting right with her, though that may just be her lingering dread speaking.)

“Yup! Since he’ll be on a scholarship for college next year, he convinced his parents to let him use the money they set aside for it to buy a bike.”

She went on about the boy and the places he’d taken her, a genuine joy in her every motion, in her every word, excitement clear to all who would lay eyes on her.

Oh, Eve could feel her happiness, potent, so close yet completely unattainable to the likes of her. That wasn’t a new realization, not by any means, no, but God, it was different this time; a bitter bile rising in her, leaving the taste of acid and envy and a sorrow not unlike that of resignment, of loss.

But between Elizabeth’s giggles and how nice the boy seemed to be, the taste would soon fade into a sweet sugar cookie sort of fondness.

Only a hint of that resignment remained, a tangy, rotten after taste.

...

Unlike the first day of their newly implemented schedule, today was not so tense.

Rather, the two girls sat next to each other, not even a ruler’s length apart, not tense but tenuous both of them lost in a labyrinth of thoughts and drowning in a sea of emotions either too scary to name or too muddled to be sure of, everything mixing and melding and melting like a soup with a certain ingredient you couldn’t quite place.

The memory of yesterday was burned into their minds, playing again and again on an endless loop for reasons they dare not say, the same words spoken and heard from slightly different perspectives with slightly different thoughts accompanying it.

For Lilith, yesterday was a sign of hope for Eve. She was willing to disobey, allowing herself the occasional indulgence with a bit of coaxing. All Eve needed was a nudge, a gentle push in the right direction. The redhead could imagine it quite vividly, the girl standing before her mother, letting lies slip from her lips, pretending to have been forced into a place of opposition she so evidently wanted to be in. Eve hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that her mother was the only thing keeping her from the club, either too tired to make up an excuse or just feeling comfortable enough to open up about it to her.

For Eve, yesterday was the end of playing dumb, the end of turning a blind eye to her own desires and the undeniable humanity of people… like Lilith. She could hardly believe all that had happened despite it being so clear in her head. Between what see had seen in the locker room and what had happened over lunch and the things she’d willingly done during club time… it was all too much.

Yesterday was the end of life as she knew it. Or rather, it was the beginning of the end.

After all, progress took time and it was by no means linear. Especially not during matters of this nature.

“So what did your mom say?” Lilith said. She was trying to separate what she felt for that woman from her voice, and she was doing well, disdain for her considered. Really, fussing over every little detail of her daughter was one thing but the fact that the concern she displayed was not for said daughter but for her future husband was something she couldn’t forgive. Still, she kept her language plain and her tone neutral. Most people didn’t take kindly to other’s insulting their mothers.

“Oh, I haven’t told her.” The way Eve’s voice trembled when she said that “oh” sent arrows through her heart, the dread palpable and utterly unnerving. “She hasn’t asked yet and I didn’t have a good time to bring it up so I’ll just wait for her to say something. Maybe she’s assuming I joined the book club again?”

A lie by omission was better than an outright one but it was a lie nonetheless and the guilt of it didn’t do much to ease the girl’s tension, though the fact that she would be able to avoid that conversation for a while longer did.

“Speaking of books,” Lilith coughed, deciding to change the topic before Eve withdrew into her mind “what did you guys do in that club? Just read all day and discuss books? Is there even anything good in that library?”

“Well, most of it is theology and reference books, yeah, but those can be good! There are a few volumes of Sherlock Holmes near the history section! It’s not a complete collection at all but definitely better than nothing.”

She could already feel the dopey grin making it’s way onto her face. In the short amount of time they’ve known each other, Lilith would be hard pressed to find a time Eve had been this happy about anything. Unbridled joy was a good look on everyone. The gleam in their eyes that only came from a genuine liking for something, the way they’d gesticulate, unable to contain all their passion.

Granted, Eve didn’t gesture so much as flap her hands about, but while joy looked good on everyone, it also looked different in everyone and Lilith found this eccentricity of hers adorable to no small degree.

“They have Phantom of the Opera tucked away somewhere near this compilation of Edgar Allan Poe I’ve been able to read a few times. A bit macabre but still good! Oh, you know they have books on gardening, too! I can show you next time we go and you can check out one or two if you want! The ones on herbs was fun but I think you’ll find the one on flower language an interesting read. It’s not exactly about gardening, but still. Did you know that the way you tied a bouquet could completely change the meaning of all the flowers you were trying to send?”

She spoke in a mix of short, rapid-fire sentences and long-winded rants, switching with no real pattern, rambling and occasionally straying to go on a tangent about a specific book or mention something about gardening, none of which Lilith understood, being unable to name any flowers by appearance other than rose, daisy, and sunflower, though she listened eagerly nonetheless.

“But back to books! Near the back, just by the cookbook – oh, and um, don’t tell anyone but –” Eve scooted her wooden chair across the wooden floor, mindlessly brushing Lilith’s hair back, placing her lip just two centimeters scant of her ear. “There are books hidden there, by older girls, I think. Ones that graduated a really long time ago.”

Eve’s ivory-like hands cupped the small space around Lilith’s ear, shielding their words from any listening ears, anything that happened behind her hands hidden from prying eyes. In the midst of her whispering, she realized she could kiss Lilith; a gentle peck on the shell of her ear. No one needed to know. Just a quick press of the lips, it wouldn’t take longer than a second… or two.

And though she ignored the impulse, the thought lingered.

“Love poems and romance novels. I’m pretty sure they wrote it all themselves. Two of them are just a bunch of papers with holes punched in the side tied together by string, no cover. Technically more manuscript than book but you know what I mean. The others are leather bound journals, hand-written.”

“No kidding?” The other asked, hushed, nothing anyone further than Eve would catch. She didn’t dare say it louder, both unwilling to let anyone eavesdrop on them and scared that the excessive movement of her jaw would lead Eve farther from her.

“Nope, they’re there.” She pulled away from the girl’s ear but didn’t bother to move her seat back to where it was, their legs pressed together beneath the table they shared. “I haven’t been able to read much of any of them cause I’m scared I’ll get too absorbed to notice anyone walking past but their poems are really good! I can show you sometime, along with the gardening books.”

“We can go there later, during lunch. I’ll keep watch for while you read.”

The offer turned the girl’s waning grin into a megawatt smile, dimpled and rosy cheeked, she looked like a Raphaelite painting, a masterpiece.

“Really?”

“Sure! I’m always up for a bit of casual disobedience.” She replied with a wink and a deep chuckle, using amusement as a cover for endearment.

“Holy cow, thank you so much! But I’m pretty sure we’re not actually breaking any rules, I–”

Smack!

“Everyone bring out your composition notebook! We’re going to use the rest of homeroom to learn how to read sheet music before proceeding to the music room so if you want to fool around on the piano you’d best master this quickly.”

With that, Eve jerked away from Lilith, bringing her chair along with her and causing a loud, grating noise to make it’s way through the now silent room, every head whipping around to face them, the eyes now bearing into them, mostly shocked, some irritated, with one judgmental look from the front, from Sister Bernadette.

“No movement of chairs unless otherwise stated!”

“But-”

“Put the seat back where it was immediately or get detention!”

Lilith then pulled the girl down into her seat, cutting off another protest and brought the seat back to where it was before the nun entered, effectively ridding all the space between them.

Only when the woman turned to face the blackboard did she whisper to Eve: “Don’t argue, even if they’re wrong. They’ll just call it disrespectful and send you to the principal’s.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, I’m just not used to getting yelled at here so I wasn’t sure about– I didn’t know what to do. Sorry, again…”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” She gave the blonde a teasing jab along with a soft smile, looking at the girl only from the corner of her sky blue eye so as not to invoke the further ire of the clearly on-edge teacher. “’Sides, the jokes on them. They’re still wrong and we get to stay like this. That’s a win-win if I’ve ever seen one, yeah?”

Eve huffed, a small laugh, in part a sort of thanks for the given consolation, in part a sort of reassurance to the other that she’d be okay, that she’d bounce back.

“Yeah.”

In the end, they weren’t able to go to the music room.

...

The hours passed, only a few words passing between the girls every so often, most of it questions related to the work they were assigned. They were careful, Eve unwilling to anger any other authority figures, Lilith trying to fly under the radar, admittedly rather afraid of being called into Mother Cecilia’s office over even trivial matters, knowing it would lead to yet another interrogation regarding the fire.

But finally, the lunch bell rang, granting them freedom and the ability to be enthusiastic without repercussion. (As long as they weren’t too noisy, of course.) All the anticipation and excitement led to Eve shooting out of her chair and practically sprinting to the library, books shoved haphazardly into her book bag as Lilith followed not too far behind her, pleasantly surprised at her actions, though with more emphasis on the pleasant and not so much on the surprised.

“It’s right this way,” The blonde said, not bothering to drop her bag down in her usual seat as they ventured deeper into the library.

Eventually, they reached the deepest, mustiest park of the library, all the shelves covered in a thin sheen of dust save for a single row level with their knees. The sun streaming in from the arching windows only served to accentuate how unkempt the place was, illuminating the dust particles that flew into the air when Eve took to her knees to retrieve the books she spoke so eagerly about.

“The last time I’ve been able to peek at them was a few weeks before summer, so sorry for the dust. You’re not asthmatic, right?” She pulled out a few of the recipe books, setting them aside before reaching in deeper to grab a stack of papers, bound with string, it’s outer most page containing nothing more than a title and a name. Sticking her arm in a bit more, she pulled out two leather journals, putting them down atop the manuscript before taking a few more cookbooks from the shelf and grabbing the last journal along with manuscript type book.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

Lilith crouched down next to her, looking at the stack Eve made. The paper ones were practically identical save for a difference in thickness while the leather-bound books varied in colour, one the usual coffee brown, the other a matte black, and the last one a fine, wine-red.

“So, how’d you find all this anyway?” The redhead asked, taking the brown book from the stack, flicking through a random page and instantly regretting it as a cloud of dust came from it, resulting in a rather violent coughing fit, Eve rushing to her and patting her back as her lungs tried to expel themselves through her mouth.

“Are you sure you’re not asthmatic?”

“Eve, I’m not sure how to break it to you, but anyone that gets hit with a face-full of dust is gonna cough a bit. I’ll live.”

“Good point.” She reached over to her bag and took a tumbler from it. “Water?”

Lilith’s fingers brushed against Eve’s as the dark green bottle switched hands, reminiscent of the brief touch they shared the first time they met, on that fateful, windy day in the courtyard.

“Thanks.”

There were a handful of things she expected to happen today, things she prepared an appropriate response for. Watching Lilith gulp down water like a dying man, seeing her throat work with every sip, eyes following the stray drops that rolled down her chin and her neck, making it’s way to the opening of her shirt before finally stopping, absorbed by the fabric that now clung to parts of her chest, was evidently not one of those things.

“T-thanks to you, too… Lilith.”

The girl in question merely raised an eyebrow and snorted.

“If you wanted to start with this book, you could’ve just said so.”

Lilith passed the book she was holding to her, instead grabbing the red one and holding it out an arm’s length away and flapping it about, effectively getting most of the dust out.

They settled into a comfortable silence after that, content to exist in the same space, unburdened by the unspoken as they read. Sock-clad legs parallel to each other, pressed flush against the flesh, they looked so similar to how they did yesterday, this morning.

Lighter, though. Somehow.

Perhaps it was the lack of looming dread, the weight of anxiety gone from Eve’s mind, for now at least. Perhaps it was the lack of fear, Lilith’s worry for Eve gone, again, if only for now.

...

As Eve went on, she became enamored by the prose, the delicate descriptions crafted from simple every day life and feelings, invested by the admittedly somewhat familiar protagonist, Nina, and her best friend, Rosalie, or as Nina would so fondly call her, Rosie.

Bit by bit, though, things were changing between them. Or maybe they haven’t changed at all and she was just blind to it. Either way though, things became different, odd, queer.

“I carded my hands through her soft, black hair just like I had so many times before. “Will you braid it for me?” She asked, lifting her head from off my lap, resting on her elbows. Not quite lying down, not quite sitting up.”

She couldn’t help but think that the first sentence implied something.

“Rosalie would get her blazer dirty, stomach pressed into the grass as she traced patterns on my lap, the fabric of my skirt shifting, spiraling. “Of course,” I couldn’t say no if I wanted to, but why would I even consider refusing her?”

The way Nina spoke about Rosalie, the way Rosalie spoke to her in turn, the affection they showed to each other, the way she would describe Rosalie in text was akin to that of love… romantic love.

Eve brushed the thoughts aside though, knowing she was probably just projecting her own perversions on the perfectly normal, heterosexual girls.

“We sat there and spoke of the future, a house deep in the woods, an aged, fat cat. Preferably a tabby. I plucked flowers, giving them a new home with her as I wove it into the braid. Call me sacrilegious but she looked like a God, of-the-earth, of me. She was my God. I’d get in trouble if I ever said that out loud. But then again, I’d get in trouble for practically everything I did with Rosie”

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just Eve.

“After finishing the braid, I took a compact mirror from my pocket. “What do you think?” She giggled, deep, brown eyes looking around at the empty field before shimmying over to me, laying a gentle kiss on my cheek. “It’s lovely. You’re lovely.” She moved once more, settling on my lap, lips trailing across my forehead, my eye, my nose, my cheek. Tease. At long last, though, her lips met mine, pressing against me with a soft passion-”

She dropped the book, hands by her head as a sort of surrender to whatever god may be watching her, judging her, face flushed, chest heaving.

Lilith looked up from her book. “You okay?”

She read that. She enjoyed that.

That knowledge was the straw that broke the camel’s still recovering back.

The guilt from yesterday and everyday before that built up in her lungs, drowning her, hastening her hellish damnation. Her thoughts were consumed by apologies and prayers and pleas for a mercy she wasn’t deserving of.

Tears fell from her face like angels from the sky, a testament to her sins, her guilt.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Suffocating, stifling, sinful guilt.

Crashing down on her as if she was being smitten, painful and shameful and rightful guilt.

She sobbed and shook, hands over her mouth to stop herself from wailing her anguish, her agony, her guilt.

But a pair hands weren’t enough to contain everything in her and all that spilled out. Nothing was.

Whimpers escaped through the gaps of her fingers, Lilith forgetting her shock and rushing over to comfort her.

It only made her cry harder. Lilith’s touch burned.

Eve clung to her though, rising to her knees, hands clutching at Lilith’s shirt.

It was yesterday all over again.

It was worse.

She couldn’t deny what she was anymore. Every passing second made it harder to craft lies and alibis and that would be a sin too and she’d go to hell regardless.

Burying her face in the crook of Lilith’s neck in a futile attempt to silence herself, Eve could smell the sweet, apple cinnamon perfume the girl had sprayed on earlier.

The way the scent made her face flush, even with everything going on and everything she was feeling was sick.

It twisted her stomach.

She felt disgusting, sinful, wrong, guilty.

But as she sobbed and shuddered and breathed the scent in…

It twisted her stomach.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

...

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Eve.” She whispered, soft, the words meant for one person and one person only.

Lilith wasn’t a naturally soothing person. Never in her life did she have to console someone in such a way, her friends all preferring to be distracted from their sorrows by quips and jokes. This was different, though. Eve was different.

Eve made her soft and kind to a degree she could hardly fathom. Gone was her icy exterior and harsh features, traded in for a comforting smile and gentle hands.

The girl sobbed and prayed into her shoulder, unable to hear her over muttered prayers and the sound of her own heartbeat, a frantic thump in her heaving chest.

From an outsider’s point of view, it would look like Eve was the one doing the comforting, seeming to pray over Lilith in a manner akin to that to someone being exorcised, a two-person prayer circle.

“Eve,” She whispered, gently trying to pry the girl away from her so she could talk, immediately stopping when the blonde only cried harder at the gesture. “I’m gonna need you to take deep breaths, Eve. Can you do that for me, please?”

The girl hiccupped, body wracked by sobs though clearly trying to follow.

“That’s right, just like that.”

Lilith’s spindly hands made her way up and down Eve’s back in tranquil motions.

“Wanna tell me what’s making you cry? I won’t tell anyone not even Paula and Joan.”

Eve shook her head, not even lifting her head from the crook of Lilith’s neck, her tip of her nose drawing a line from where her neck sloped down to her shoulders.

“Are you sure?”

“Yea-ah…”

Breathing still ragged, eyes still red-rimmed, cheeks still tear-stained, she pulled away from Lilith, sniveling.

“I’m s-sorry, I don’t know why I’m even crying-”

She cut the blonde off, though. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. But please don’t lie to me. You know why you’re crying. I’m not gonna make you talk about it, but you know.”

“Okay.” Eve whispered, a sort of willing surrender.

It was evident to Lilith that she wanted to talk. Shame held her back, unfortunate and burdensome. She didn’t speak, instead picking up the book from where it fell, opening to the page she had last read, finger tapping the paragraph before sliding the book across the small gap between them.

She skimmed over the paragraph and a few thereafter, finding nothing of note until she finally saw what Eve meant.

“This is what you were crying over?”

All she got in response was a nod, the girl looking to be on the brink of tears again.

“Why?”

Eve shook her head again. Her lip trembled, jutting out like a child trying their best not to cry.

“If I guess right will you tell me?”

Nothing.

“Want me to stop?”

Again, there was no reply.

“Can you tell me what you want me to do?”

A shrug of the shoulders. Nothing else.

“Do you know what you want me to do?”

She shook her head no, a few tears going with it. The only thing that left her mouth was a shaky sigh as she carded her hands through her hair. Tired. Eve looked tired. She was all that and more.

Lilith looked away from her, the pity she felt too much. There was nothing she could do. If only for a moment, she felt the degree of helplessness Eve felt, knowing she couldn’t help. It wasn’t foreign to her, helplessness. It was like seeing an old friend.

She could never bring herself to be angry or even annoyed at what was happening to Eve. Not when it’s happened to her, to Paula, to Joan, to Julia, to Colette.

Lost in thought, she was snapped back to reality as Eve dragged her closer, making her face away as the girl hugged her from behind.

Eve cried into her. It wasn’t the way she cried mere minutes ago, however. It was calmer, no hiccups or shaking. Only tears streaming down the girl’s face and soaking into Lilith’s shirt with a sniffle every once and a while.

Time passed and Lilith grew bolder, hand wandering to where Eve’s were wrapped around her stomach. Her touch was tentative, Eve’s hand treated like a fine porcelain piece.

“Is this okay?”

“No.” She said.

But she didn’t push Lilith’s away, instead opting to hold it, their fingers weaving together, slotting together as if their very flesh and bone were sculpted to be together, to intertwine, to love.

How cruel of God to craft two people for each other the turn to create a world were they were not to be.

“None of this is okay.”

______________________

Taglist: @anomiewrites @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @phillyinthebathroom @gaypeaches @extrabitterbrain @pirateofblood @i-wanna-be-a-rock

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quietlyimplode · 4 years ago

Text

The Progressive Cultural Learnings of Natasha Romanov

Or.

Five things Natasha Romanov found in the strangeness of American culture, and the one she didn’t.

For @natasha-romanoff-deserved-better

Who has kept me fairly sane this week whilst answering all my non-american dumbass questions about the election whilst also keeping me positive that the world isn’t all bad.

It’ll remain under the cut as there is brief discussion of sexual assault, assumptions of culture, sexism, and child abuse (all in passing and nothing graphic but the warning is there).

It’s clear from the moment that she meets Clint that he’s loyal. To his handler. To his organization. To his country. It’s something she recognizes in nearly all Americans she comes across. Their love of country, and belief in all that is good. That good will overcome.

——

1/ Smiling.

Everyone here smiles so goddamn much. Everywhere she goes, people have smiles plastered on their faces, they have grins, and loud guffawing laughs that make her shudder at the intrusiveness. Is it fake? Are they all just playing under masks and the truth is that they don’t care, it’s a farce? She doesn’t know. She does know that they don’t like being met with a stony face, piecing eyes and look that sees everything they don’t want her to see.

2/ Personal Space

She doesn’t want to sit next to anybody, but they want to sit next to her. Natasha deliberating moves away and yet somehow, they get closer. Even with talking, there’s arms everywhere; people standing too close and she doesn’t get the way they move their bodies so freely.

Did no one teach them that they need to not be in killing distance? That optimally, there should be at least 3 feet between people so that you can see an attack coming?

Clint tries to clear things up for her. She’s got to get used to the smiling and the wonton way they school their faces but this. This feeling that they’re closing in on her? She doesn’t do well with this, no matter how many reassuring glances he throws at her; no matter how much he gives her warning glares when someone sits near her in debrief. She’s going to snap one day and just punch them or take them out permanently for getting in her space.

No one here knows, they're all American born and bred; and they just don’t get it. She’s learnt how to position her body and her face; they haven’t. Why are they all so trusting? With their bodies and their words?

3/ Friendship

Everyone here is friendly. But they’re not friends. She’s not here to make friends and doesn’t care for the behaviours that come with it.

Clint brought her in. They’re not friends.

Maria has been assigned to her. They’re not friends.

Fury is her boss. They’re not friends.

Only.

Clint plays stupid games with her when they’re waiting for the quinjet to refuel. He waits for her outside medical when she’s cut her hand and it won’t stop bleeding. Clint nudges her awake when she’s fallen asleep on his couch, and when she wakes in surprise; he’s not put off when he finds a knife to his neck; he just gently reassures her about where she is; and how she got here.

Maria saves her the last doughnut and teaches her where to find the best coffee. Maria finds her at dinner eating alone in her room, leaves and then brings her spaghetti; and they eat together in silence. She doesn’t mind her company and reminds her of home a bit. Maria doesn’t invade her personal space and is respectful of her emotions. It’s refreshing. Maria is the one that finds her after a brutal mission, and sits with her whilst getting a rape exam, that she knows will come back negative but needs to get it done so she doesn’t get more psych sessions added onto her already shit week.

Fury gives her lowball missions after ones that have gone to shit. Easy, scout missions that a rookie could do. She never says no to anything and completes them flawlessly but she knows what he’s doing. Fury makes her take leave, citing rules and regulations and then sends her to Vienna or the Ukraine to reset and re-establish her own senseabilities.

Sometimes, he sets it up so Clint has the the same leave. Fury sits her in his office after she punches Rumlow in the face for saying vaguely sexist remarks about a female agent, and gently explains to her why she can’t do that, and then gives her two paid days off to ‘think about what she’s done’. She spends the time shopping and thinking she should do it more often. She smiles and nods at the cashier when she asks Natasha if she has the day off.

They’ve all inserted themselves into her life, subtlety and underhandedly in a way that feels extremely American and it’s starting to feel like what one might call friendship.

4/ Food

She does not understand why the portions here are so large. It’s not like they’re starving or food is scarce. It’s almost frightening in abundance. She can’t stand wasting food. And the waste here is… astronomical.

She can’t stand watching Clint push it into the bin, and it’s almost painful when she does it too; the food almost mouldy and well past it’s used by date but still, she think of the times she’s almost starved and shudders when she thinks younger Natasha would have crawled for the food that she’s so willingly throwing away. She taken to storing food in her fridge and making food, repurposing it and using as much as she can rather than eating out. Clint makes fun of her; but then she sees his face when she packs the food back up; and she knows that he gets it.

She’s learning skills she never learnt about food like spices and salt. Natasha’s learning that she likes some sweet foods and dislikes other; that’s there’s a difference in types of meat and that things she never thought could taste good (potatoes).

She’ll never get used to the abundance though.

5/ Language

Sometimes she doesn’t understand the American accent, or even what the hell they are talking about. The easy ones like ‘y’all’ and ‘awesome’ she’s all over; that was covered in language classes and her perusal of movies and American Tv is nothing to sneer at. But then there are those phrase her that just ‘throw her for a loop’, she thinks snidely. When Clint tells her that something was a ‘sick’ move she nods and continues on her way; her mind wandering to how an action could be ill. She looks it up later and comes to understand the slang means ‘cool’ or ‘awesome’.

Later when one of the trainees tells her she’s ‘ripped’, and laughs; she almost takes his head off; settles for making him run laps. Clint asks later what he did and she tells him that he called her ‘ripped’. He smiles and gently explains that means she’s toned, or fit. He laughs gently at her as she lays her head on his chest. ‘Damn right.’ She whispers to no one in particular; taking the words on board and rolling them around in her head.

It evolves; as all things do, to understanding the colloquialisms and the slang, the loudness. She worries, at times that she’s losing her Russian and the spends the day just speaking solely in her birth language; she doesn’t care that no one else understands but Fury and Clint, she’s just happy to connect back to something that’s just hers. She may be newly American but she’ll always be Russian at heart; like her parents and those who have come before her.

She’s not a traitor, she tells herself often. She’s khrabryy. Brave.

+1 Loyalty

She is not so sure - her loyalties are flexible.

She tells him as such once he’s incapacitated her and proposed a way out of her current life.

He’s suspicious and rightly so, she’s stuck in a situation that most would feel is deadly. She could keep fighting and guerrilla this warfare but she’s tired and needs something stable and maybe even a bit of her thinks someone that would miss her if she died. Or at the very least, would remember her name; and not with a sneer or derogatory remark said afterwards. So she follows suit and becomes loyal to the man who saved her life by almost taking it.

#thanks #I so appreciate it #good luck tomorrow (which is today here) but you've got this!#natasha romanov fic #clint/nat fic #kind of #mostly natasha centric #avengers fic #rape mention tw #cultural assumptions tw #sexism tw #child abuse tw #mention of starvation #let me know if other tags need to go in #my fic

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agent-breakdance · 4 years ago

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(Icarus Ch. 4) - Dear John

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F! MC (Olivia Anika Cohen)

Word count: 1.4k words

A/N 1: Hey guys, this is the final chapter of Icarus! I just, from the bottom of my heart, want to thank every single person who stuck with me through it all. I also want to thank my incredible beta @deliciouslydeafeningstarlight for putting up with me. The sequel to Icarus is already in the works! Stay tuned for updates.

Warning: ANGST

Disclaimer: PB owns characters. There’s lots of Grey’s Anatomy and Friends references.

Tag list: @deliciouslydeafeningstarlight @drethanramslay @ohramsey @theeccentricbibliophile @justanotherrookie @kaavyaethanramsey @batgirlassociationofgothamcity @tyrilstarfury @lilypills @juneiswriting @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj @mvalentine @sanchita012 @choicesstan1 @junggoku @aylamreads @whatsamottowithyou @utterlyinevitable @openheart12

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Song: Dear John by Taylor Swift.

“Liv, can we talk?”

His serious expression threw her for a loop. Before she let her mind wander too far, he added “Privately.”

Her confusion showed plainly on her face but she nodded. They moved a slight distance away from Ethan but were still in earshot.

She tried to focus her mind as he started to talk but all she could think about was if he knew of her relationship with Ethan.

“So, what I guess I’m saying is I like you. A lot. And I’d really like to take you out.”

The thoughts swirling in her mind stopped abruptly as he uttered that sentence.

“I’m sorry, what?” Olivia said, a little louder than she intended to. Ethan looked towards them curiously.

“I was saying that I like you and if the flirting, the looks in class and most importantly, the kiss are any indication, you like me too.” Tobias smirked.

This captured the entirety of Ethan’s attention. His jealousy flared up again but this time, he was absolutely sure who it was directed towards.

“I’m sorry, Tobias. You’re one of my best friends and I think I’d like us to remain that way. I hope you understand.” Olivia said calmly.

His smirk fell upon hearing her words. Confusion and anger took its place.

“How can you say that after everything?

The flirting...

The looks...

The kiss?!"

With each word, he took a menacing step forward and Olivia flinched away, not recognizing her friend anymore.

This drew the attention of their friends and they made their way over. Ethan, being the closest arrived promptly at Olivia’s side.

“You led me on!” His voice was tight with anger.

With a deep breath, Olivia took a resolute step forward. “Tobias, listen to me. I was not flirting with you. We were just making fun of ridiculous pick up lines. Also, I only let you kiss me because we were playing a game. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Finally, I wasn’t looking at you in class.”

She took another deep breath and steeled herself for what was coming. She looked at Ethan for permission and he gave her a firm nod.

“I was looking at Ethan. We're dating."

Tobias recoiled at the shock. He looked into Ethan’s eyes and that was all the proof he needed. His face hardened in anger before it melted into a dark smile.

“So, this is who you were leaving me for? You bailed on our plans for this bit-”

Ethan’s fist connected with his face, driving him to the ground.

“Don’t even think about finishing that thought.” Ethan glared at him.

Before it could get any worse, Bryce and Jackie pulled apart Ethan and Tobias.

“Walk away, Tobias.” Bryce warned him.

“Seems like this was one thing you could have mentioned when I told you how I felt about Liv.” Tobias said as he stalked off.

Olivia whirled on Ethan. “What did he mean by that?”

She took in the pained expression on Ethan’s face.

Realization dawned upon her. “You knew...”

“How could you not tell me, Ethan?”

“Rookie, he was very drunk and I didn’t think he meant much by it. I’ve known him for a long time and I’ve never seen him like this. I would have told you but it seemed like nothing at the time. I’m sorry.”

“You should have still told me, Ethan. We could have avoided all of this.”

Taking a cue, Sienna led the others back to the dorms, leaving behind only Olivia and Ethan.

“This is all too much to handle, Ethan. We’ve had enough trauma to last us a lifetime and I’m… I'm done. With all of this.

Nothing between us is ever easy. I just want to have a normal uncomplicated life." Olivia stared at the ground.

I think we flew too fast, too far…

“What are you saying, Rookie?”

She looked up, her eyes glistening with tears. “I think we need to take a break.”

“You’re right. Let’s go get some ice cream, we’ll cool off and study later.”

“No, Ethan. A break from us.” Her voice broke and tears streamed down her face.

“I’m sorry.” She clasped his hands before walking away, leaving him standing alone.

“Don’t leave me, Rookie.” He whispered as he watched her retreating form.

Tears spilled from his eyes as he looked down and saw a white piece of cloth she’d left in his hands. He stood there staring at his bold initials. This one thing had managed to comfort him through every low point in his life but it gave him no comfort now.

***

In the wake of last night’s events, Olivia doubted her decisions. Her mind was being rational and practical and it said that she made the right decision. Her heart, however, made her want to go back in time and take everything back.

She opened her eyes to the blaring of her alarm clock. She had set it so she wouldn’t miss the very important test that was scheduled. Not that it mattered anyway; she hadn’t slept a wink. A rushed breakfast later, she found herself walking down the hallways. The weight on her mind dragged her down, making it near impossible to move.

A loud screech from the PA system jolted her awake. The speakers crackled to life as students directed their attention to the deep voice that boomed over their heads.

“Students of Johns Hopkins, I would like to wish you the very best of luck as you take your first test of the year. Before you leave, I would like to inform everyone of an important announcement that will be taking place in the auditorium at noon. All first year med students are expected to be there after the test...”

Deliberations and chattering ensued among the students as the Dean continued his address.

Olivia, like every other student, had the same question on her mind.

“What could that announcement possibly be about?”

“Just a stab in the dark…could be about Dr. Banerji putting us through a series of competitive examinations resulting in him giving away his money as a scholarship.”

She looked around for the source of the voice and came face to face with a dark-haired figure with a smirk on his face. Something about him told her that he was not in the habit of being wrong.

“And how would you know that?” Olivia asked, eyebrows raised.

“I have my ways.” He said with a wink.

Before Olivia could respond, they noticed that the crowd in the hallway had started to thin out. As she turned to leave, she heard him call out.

“I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“That’s right, you didn’t.” She smirked as she walked away.

***

Seated in the exam hall, Olivia tried her best to focus on the test. But amidst the scratching of pens and shuffling of papers, she could hardly seem to hear herself think. And in those rare instances when she could, her mind kept bringing back memories of the previous night. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute.

The night flashed in her eyes and she was left with only one thought.

How could everything go so wrong so fast?

She looked down at her papers and found drops of her tears, staining the paper. Only then did she realize that she had been crying. She hastily wiped at her eyes and fixed them on the clock.

She decided to shelve her feelings for at least another hour and turned her focus towards her papers. Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly, the hour seeming like five.

As soon as the examiner collected their papers, she made her way out of the door. She saw Ethan standing outside the other exam hall and stopped in her tracks.

Their eyes met for a second, or twenty; they weren’t sure. All that stood between them was 6 feet of space.

She ran through the infinite possibilities in her mind.

How different would it have been if they had never studied together?

If Tobias hadn’t asked her out? If they all hadn’t been friends? If her and Ethan hadn’t been in a relationship? If she had never come to Johns Hopkins?

If she had died instead of Mia?

Her mind pounded with each answer.

But they did.

But he did.

But they were.

But she did.

But she didn’t.

When she looked back up into his eyes, she could tell he was doing the same.

He gave her a sad, apologetic smile which she returned with one of her own. They gazed at each other for what seemed like an eternity until they turned and walked away in opposite directions.

A/N 2: Dear John- A letter from a woman informing her boyfriend or fiancé that she is ending their relationship or informing her husband that she wants a divorce:

Nothing is worse for a soldier's morale than getting a Dear John.

I am so sorry for everything I put you through these 4 weeks. And if you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much for reading!

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr ethan ramsey #dr ethan ramsey x mc #choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #open heart #OpenHeart #open heart fanfiction #play choices

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ailelie · 4 years ago

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a nohorcrux!au in which Dudley decides to be decent sooner; aka, how Dudley got a boyfriend

Hermione became friends with Dudley by dint of being the only one of Harry’s friends who could use a telephone and Dudley being allowed on the phone when Harry was not.

Harry traded Mrs. Weasley’s sweets for a recap of Dudley’s conversations with Hermione.

The arrangement had started thanks to a confluence of circumstances that had led Harry to requesting Hermione’s phone number in the first place and buying extra cauldron cakes on the train.

When Hermione visited Number Four, she did so as Dudley’s friend. Harry and Dudley did not mention she had magic. Hermione brought toothbrushes for the whole family--a move Harry thought was a bit much, but somehow solidified her worth in his aunt and uncle’s eyes.

After that, Hermione became “just a friend, Mum, seriously” and welcome at the house whenever she liked.

Harry and Hermione spent hours at the local park--with Dudley, of course, who was their excuse and who loomed awkwardly keeping his old friends away.

Hermione didn’t mean to draw Dudley into the conversation, but she talked to him for a half hour every other night of the week. Not everything was about Harry. He was a bully, Dudley that is, but he’d confessed once to wanting to be better and, well, Hermione liked a project.

And he did want to be better, but only because Hermione was a proper girl and decent and Dudley wanted to be worthy of her friendship.

Ron remained in the loop via letters to Hermione, which she passed on to Harry through her conversations with Dudley.

The whole matter was a tangle, but the practical effect was that, when school resumed, she discovered she rather missed the frequent chats. Dudley had a very direct way of thinking that cut through her own snarls sometimes.

For his part, Dudley had never resented Harry Hogwarts until befriending Hermione.

During the school year, Dudley wrote letters and Hermione returned novels. He took to carrying his letters around and adding on throughout the week until he had a respectable enough length to send. The practical effect of this was that each letter became a diary. He didn’t realize how much he opened himself to her.

He told her about his black eye earned defending a first year from upperclassmen.

She congratulated him and sent a packet of sugar quills.

Which is how Dudley learned one of his classmates also had family at Hogwarts. Apparently sucking on a Wizarding sweet where anyone could see was not the smartest of things to do. The classmate had always been a strange one, but he informed Dudley that was because he was a Squib--someone without magic born into a magical family.

Dudley got plenty of opportunities to put his new altruism to the test defending the squib--Christopher Clearwater--from their classmates. Piers thought him mad, but followed along with the new regime with merely a roll of his eyes. The rest thought they could now challenge ‘Big D’ since he’d clearly gone soft.

Dudley disabused them of that notion, but did not resume his friendships, contenting himself with weird Christopher and ever-loyal Piers. Christopher was okay, but he was relieved to have kept Piers.

When the school year ended, the Clearwaters invited Dudley to visit and thus he received his first foray into the magical world.

He didn’t tell Harry. Matters between the cousins remained purely business. Dudley was Harry’s personal telephone and Harry was Dudley provider of sweets. The arrangement worked. They had too much history to mess with the arrangement.

The point is, Dudley and Christopher went to Diagon Alley and Hermione was there with her parents.

If Hermione’s parents were surprised by the appearance of the young man Hermione had been calling for a half hour every other night for the past couple years, they did not show it. Hermione knew their calm demeanor was a mask, though. She had endured too much teasing for her regular phone calls for it to be anything but. It did not matter how many times she explained she was really calling Harry.

The Grangers invited Dudley and Christopher for ice cream. Hermione ran damage control. Her parents’ comments flew over Dudley’s head, she was sure, but his friend looked cannier. Then again, judging by Dudley’s flushed face and the amount of attention he was paying his bowl, maybe the comments were hitting exactly as intended.

“Sorry about them,” she said later all in a rush. “It isn’t that I don’t like you. As a friend. But. I don’t--”

“Like me,” Dudley finished, forcing a smile. “I get it.”

And he did. And, to be honest, he didn’t want her to like him. Not really. He just wanted to be worth her liking him.

When school resumed, he appointed himself the defender of the first years, instructing them all to find him if any upperclassmen did anything to them.

Piers responded with the sarcastic gift of a cheap costume cape.

“Did you get one for yourself too?” Dudley asked.

Piers smirked. “Naturally. You don’t mind being my sidekick, do you?”

“Sidekick?” Dudley’s brows raised. “I’ll show you ‘sidekick.’“

They scuffled and Piers laughed against Dudley’s neck before yielding.

Dudley included the moment in his weekly letter to Hermione. He did not realize how much detail he had placed into describing the exact sparkle in Piers’ eyes until five or six letters later when Hermione returned that section, with others, to him all neatly cut his letters.

In this reply, though, she only asked him to tell her more about his friend.

Five or six letters later, she asked if he liked him.

Dudley had not planned on having a sexuality crisis as a teenager. He did not thank Hermione for foisting one onto him.

Piers and Christopher both noticed something was wrong, because of course they did. When Piers finally confronted him, demanding, “What’s wrong?”

Dudley said the first thing to come to mind. “You’re fit.”

“What’s that got to--oh.” Piers shifted from foot to foot. “Do you want me to stay, or should I--?”

“Just go.” And Piers left.

Dudley still liked girls. Still thought Hermione was beautiful. He just really, really liked his best friend.

Everything went mostly back to normal, but Piers did not tease him quite as much and Dudley missed that.

He deliberately missed the whole first week of phone calls in retaliation. When he finally accepted one, he and Hermione spent the whole conversation arguing. The gist of his position being, “I didn’t need to know I fancied him!”

Harry later asked for a recap and Dudley had nothing to tell him. For once, his conversation with Hermione hadn’t been about Harry at all.

Hermione, for her part, organized every piece of information she could find on bisexuality and coming out until her parents bought a little rainbow decal for their car and told her they loved her no matter what. She felt a bit guilty for forcing a revelation Dudley hadn’t been ready to have yet, but if her Hogwarts experience had taught her anything it was that boys were impossible when it came to feelings.

Long story short, Piers visited later that summer and locked himself and Dudley in Dudley’s bedroom and said, “I think we should try it. Kissing.”

“And then?” Dudley asked, faint at the idea of kissing Piers.

“And then we decide what’s next.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Dudley asked, approaching Piers.

Piers gave him a familiar smirk. “Hey, who’s the brains of this operation?” But his voice shook. His hand, when it fell on Dudley’s shoulder, did not.

They kissed. It wasn’t fireworks, but it wasn’t a disaster either. And when Piers pulled back and said, “All right. I could stand doing that again” before pulling Dudley back to his lips, well, it was perfect.

The point of this all being--Dudley got a boyfriend because Hermione was the only one of Harry’s friends who could use a telephone and Dudley was allowed to accept calls while Harry was not.

#harry potter #dudley dursley #AU #hermione granger #dudley/piers

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whumpywhumper · 4 years ago

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New York--Part 2

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @rosesareviolentlyread @oceanthesarcasamfox @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @voidwhump @captivity-whump @walkingchemicalfire

As always, @0idril0 was indispensable to this series and the fact she’s allowed me to use Clint makes me so grateful, go check out her Nico Series

Please see the: Masterpost and New York--Part 1

TW: Mentions of possible character death. This is some angsty, schmoopy, worldbuilding.

V***V

Clint growled, head spiraling after looking at the evidentiary photographs for hours. An itch had started under his skin about an hour ago, making him antsy and grumpy.

He flicked the photograph of one of the “cattle cells”, one of the female Elder’s, onto the table with a disgusted snarl. “What the fuck have you pulled me into, Holland?”

The older man groaned, throwing a photo onto the table himself before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was hoping that you could tell me that, Clint. We know it’s a nest, but only Christ knows what else they’re doing. How big they actually are. They’re organized, they’re doing something else.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Caught wind of them about six months ago, about the time I heard you were in Chicago, but we didn’t get a solid lead until recently.” Their eyes met across the table, and Clint saw the fountain of wisdom in them that had made him trust him for years. “I’ve got a gut feeling, it’s why I wanted you here.”

He tugged at a fist full of hair, trying to stretch out his back. The conference room was quiet other than the footsteps of the nurses back and forth to their station. Kincaid had fallen asleep on the table, one hand still holding a pen as he’d taken copious notes in everything in the photos.

Ben was laying on the ground, feet propped up in his chair, a sheaf of papers on his chest. His glasses were askew and an occasional grunting snore filling the air. Delta, Justin, and Daniel had all left a few hours previous; Delta parting with one last glare that had made the remaining cops snicker.

He shook his head, looking at all of the photos they’d gone through. “I need more info,” he sighed, “hands on info. This isn’t working for me. I want to talk to some of the people inside. Anyone stand out as being someone who would talk?“

“Not right off the bat, no. Definitely not the vamps themselves. The humans on the inside, the ‘neolates’ as they call them, are pretty dedicated, and quite a few scattered to the wind when we raided. Most of the vics were out of the loop, either drugged or magicked to hell.”

“Most?”

“There were a few that were kept pretty strong so that the fledglings and juveniles could practice their-“ he wiggled his fingers, “-mind stuff.”

Clint smirked, “they call it glamour.”

“Whatever-” Holland waved away the correction, “-there were others that were kept for the vamps to have fun with. Point is, there’s a few that could tell us what was going on, and there’s a few that we’re still waiting on to get back in their right mind or waking up. If they’re going to wake up.” He sighed, exhausted. “I’m not sure any of them will be of any help, really.”

“How many do you have here?”

“All of the vics were originally stationed here, but the majority have been cleared to go home, or to some of the shelters and long term care facilities for rehab. We just don’t have the resources to keep them.” He started counting on his fingers, looking pensive. “I have the statements that we got from them before we released them—there was a veritable shitstorm of uniforms and detectives up here interviewing—and I have contact information for all of them if you want to interview ‘em.” He shook his head, pursing his lips. “I don’t think that that would be the best use of your time, there’s too many of them, and they don’t know much.”

Holland stretched, pulling a file toward himself and looking at a list. “I think there’s about thirty that are here in their longer stay wards, a few of those are being weaned off of some heavy narcotics so their testimony isn’t as reliable as I want right now, and we have one under ICU care, but he’s being kept on the same floor for ease of access and security—it’s actually this floor. He’s why Blue Nightmare out there is being such a bitch, she wants him up on the other floor.” Rolling his eyes, he smirked, a fond edge to his lips. “I’ve tried to tell her that it’s for his protection, we have units stashed all over, but she’s still worried. It also irritates her to no end that we’ve messed up her nurses rotations and shifts, but Olivia is a good egg. One of the best.” He tossed the file to Clint, but it was a gibberish list of names, initials, and medical stats. “There’s a couple of bodies down in the morgue here, and a few at the coroner’s office, if you want to take a look at them. There was an incinerator on site, we think that’s where the majority of their bodies went.”

Sighing, Clint closed the file and rubbed at his eyes. “Were there any nest members that were injured in the raid?”

“A few, I’ve already interviewed them, they’re not going to give much I don’t think. They were their front line. You might have more luck—especially if I’m not there.” Clint smiled to himself, Holland wasn’t ever one to stand on police procedure when it came to sups, but he was never unfair about it. “Uhh, there’s one that might be more helpful, I didn’t even think about him since he’s practically on death’s door anyway.” He pulled another file out of a stack, almost toppling it onto Kincaid. “His name is Joseph, he was apparently getting some kind of cure for working for the vamps, but now the docs say he’s got two weeks, at best. Pancreatic cancer.”

Clint hummed as he took the proffered file, flipping it open to look at the picture. A young African-American man looked up at him from a mug shot, dark eyes pained and hollow. He couldn’t have been more than twenty three, already dying, faced with an impossible decision. Fuck. How many other nest mates were in the same position?

“You’ve got a lot of pictures here of the nesting areas and containment cells. Where was the nest located?”

“It’s a renovated factory at the edge of the city, they’d expanded it and turned it into a compound. Rumor had it that there was a small clinic that was run out of it for supernaturals of all types. We’re not sure how their greater operation was evading scrutiny, but this nest runs deep. I think it’s one of their main strongholds though, and Justin can take you tomorrow.”

Sighing, Clint looked back over the mounds of photographs. “Holland. . . This is a big operation, it’s gonna to take a lot of time.” He shook his head, biting at his lip. “I wanna help, and I can give you a few days, but I have something I’m already in the middle of investigating. It’s important.”

“I heard through the grape vine, a friend of yours went missing in Massachusetts a few months back?” Holland interlaced his fingers, deliberately putting his elbows on the table and looking at him with a compassion that Clint wanted to reject. He knew what he thought, and he wasn’t ready to accept it. “You still haven’t found him?”

He grunted a negative, avoiding the other man’s eyes. “Leads went cold, was actually hoping some of my connections here might have heard something.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“Five months.”

“Clint,” Holland paused, a gusty sigh through his nose before his hand rasped against his gray stubble, “Massachusetts is four hours from here, and they’re both densely populated. There’s little likelihood that anyone would have heard something, or remember something from five months ago, no matter how small the supernatural community is.” They both paused, a sinking, palpable tension filling the room. “Clint, son, look at me,” he said softly.

His eyes burned, and he knew when he met Holland’s steadfast gaze that they were red with unshed tears. “I don’t wanna hear it, Holland,” he whispered, a hot coal in his throat.

The other man nodded at him, a small frown on his face as he climbed to his feet stiffly, closing the distance between them. Clint didn’t move from his seated position, looking up at his friend as he put a strong hand on his shoulder. Gripping him tightly.

Holland held his gaze, words unstoppable. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, son, but it’s not gonna change anything to sugar coat it. To avoid the reality. You’ve been doing this for long enough, you know the statistics.” He squeezed Clint’s shoulder, bracing him. “You know what I’m going to say, and I don’t have to spell it out for you. I’m not going to bullshit you like I would some civvy; you wouldn’t appreciate it, and I’ve never been very good at it.”

He sighed heavily, giving Clint time to scramble madly for control of himself. “You need to accept that your friend is probably gone, Clint,” he said softly, “and probably has been for a while.”

Clint shuddered, biting his tongue as his wolf howled inside of him, wanting to join in with that disconsolate sound. A few rogue tears spilled onto his cheeks. “Fuck,” he hissed between his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he bowed his head. He knew that. He knew it, he just didn’t want to accept it.

Holland’s thick hand rubbed at his back, short rough strokes, before he continued. “The supernatural community is dangerous, Clint, and you all live on the fringe of death every day—you know that even better than I do. It’s why I need your help.”

He gestured to Ben and Kincaid, encompassing the make shift command station, the ambiguous motion somehow including their futility. “As much as this is our livelihood, we’re still just laymen when it comes to the supernatural community, to the intricacies of how magic works and how you operate.” He sighed, showing every inch of his sympathy in the gaze he locked onto Clint.

“Please, son, help me stop this from happening to other people, while we still can.”

Swallowing thickly, Clint coughed on a sob, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I hate when you’re right,” he choked out, sniffling.

“I hate when I’m right too,” Holland answered sadly, leaving is hand on Clint’s shoulder in support.

It took several long minutes for Clint to get ahold of himself, and he felt exhausted as he raised his head. The heels of his hands dug into this eyes, trying to clear away the tears. Holland backed off, returning to his chair at the head of the table.

He sighed, looking around at the other officers, trying to push his hair back. “I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted, and these two are definitely exhausted. When was the last time they slept in a bed?”

Holland huffed, exasperated. “I couldn’t get them to leave after the raid for longer than it took to shower and grab more clothes. That was about 72 hours ago, I don’t know that they’ve left this room unless they told each other to shower and eat. Kincaid is taking this personally, and Ben is always along for the ride.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, staring at him sideways. “They together?”

“Going on eight years, partners before that, and don’t you look at me like that either,” he said, pointing a finger at him. “They’re the best damn tactical team I’ve come across, I’d be downright stupid to try and split them up.

Raising his hands in surrender, Clint let the subject go. Supernatural squads didn’t always follow the book, but they couldn’t if they wanted results. “Do the nurses have a rack room they’d consider letting us use?”

“Yeah, the Chief of the hospital already pulled some of the bunks they have for their on call people into an empty room. It’s cramped, but it’ll do. Help me get ‘em up.”

Grinning, Clint kicked the chair out from under Ben’s feet and laughed at his snorted yelp as the other man shot up, sheets of paper falling to the floor.

Holland chuckled, shaking Kincaid awake, “c’mon, Sleeping Beauty, we’ll pick this up after you get a few hours of shut eye.” Kincaid tried to argue, a mumbled complaint that was incomprehensible as he raised his head, bleary eyes blinking owlishly. “Ah-ah! I’ll listen to your objections when you can enunciate.”

Helping Ben to his feet, his glasses still askew, they followed Holland. The large hospital afforded them a lot of distance between the conference room and the patient rooms, but Holland led them back to toward the nurses station, the empty room apparently near the patients.

The nurse from before, Olivia, was glaring at a computer like it had personally offended her mother. She looked up at them as they passed, and Clint could smell the worry and stress on her, tell-tale lines marring her makeup. He nodded at her, and saw her face soften a fraction as she looked over Ben and Kincaid. “Get some actual sleep, all of you,” she ordered, “I don’t want to be your nurse; you don’t want me to be your nurse.” The threat was clear, and they all saluted her as they made their way into their designated room.

One of the doors to a patient’s room opened, and Clint sneezed, making sure to cover his mouth and nose as the scent of sickness, stress, and hurt invaded his nostrils. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, “I hate hospitals.”

Kincaid shrugged out of the police issued hoodie he was wearing, tossing it at his head. “Here, Copper, take a whiff of that.”

Clint rolled his eyes at the movie reference. “I’m getting real tired of the bloodhound jokes,” he grumbled, throwing the hoodie over his shoulder. His eyes widened though as the scent of rosemary and magic hit his overstimulated nostrils. Shoving the hoodie against his nose, he took a deep breath and snapped his head over to raise his eyebrows at Kincaid. “Well, that woulda been nice to know!” Clint growled, a little of his shock bleeding over into the words. It wasn’t often a witch took him by surprise.

Said witch laughed as he turned into a door way after Holland and Ben, who were also chuckling, climbing onto the closest top bunk. “I’m surprised you didn’t get a bead on me earlier, I heard werewolves have super sniffers.” He shrugged sheepishly, “I’m really not strong enough to do anything with the magic, never delved into it, but maybe it’ll help with the hospital smell.” He smiled at his partner from his height as the slightly older man took his glasses off and set them carefully on a counter. “C’mon, slow poke.”

“You’re an over grown child,” Ben grumped, pointing at him in mock outrage.

“The problem with hospitals,” Clint explained, “is that I can’t smell a whole lot over everything that’s going on. Too many hormones, bodily fluids, and cleaning supplies.” Clint climbed onto the empty bottom bunk, opposite to Holland as the Captain let them bicker, the older man sitting on the already rumpled bunk below Kincaid and kicking off his shoes.

Ben shut off the light before he crawled up next to Kincaid. “Shut up, you two,” he grumbled, thwumping down, pulling the blanket over Kincaid’s face.

Holland kicked the bottom of their bunk as the furniture gave a slightly ominous creak. “I swear to god, if you two fall on me, you’re both fired.”

“Sir, yes sir!” They both replied.

Shaking his head, Clint made himself comfortable under the thin hospital issue sheets, putting Kincaid’s hoodie over the pillow. He felt slightly silly, using the other man’s clothes basically as a gas mask, but anything was better than the thick aroma of bleach on the pillow case.

Even with the lights off, the busy streetlight peeked through the blinds, illuminating the two men on the top bunk. He sighed, wanting Nico, to hold him close and make sure his Mate was safe. Even if the bond wasn’t formed yet, he wanted him. He wanted to make sure all of his pack was safe, the raw wound that Holland had dealt making an itch to check on Illyn, the other folks down in Louisiana. Gotta ask to borrow a phone tomorrow.

Sniffing, he held the pillow close, analyzing the undertow of scents. Rosemary. Lime. Garlic. Gunpowder. The tickling scent of magic mixed with them, a memory of a memory wafting across his brain. He could swear that he smelled Markus, not Kincaid, but he sighed, pushing the thought away.

His talk with Holland was too close, that’s all. Still, he held on to the scent as he fell asleep, a vague comfort against the ache.

#Markus/Lucien Series #Mentions of Character Death #Whump series #Modern magic #werewolf oc #mystery #story building

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

Text

Dead!MC Challenge AU ~ Carewyn Cromwell

...Blame @dat-silvers-girl. Just...blame her. *sniffles*

This is set at the end of year 6, centering around the Sunken Vault. In my version of year 6 (which has yet to be written and will probably be modified as more game chapters are released), Merula and Ben have started on their own arcs back to the “center” so to speak after the death of Redacted -- Merula by acknowledging that, despite her pain, anger, and feelings of vengeance toward Rakepick, she doesn’t want any of her other companions to die; and Ben by acknowledging that, however strong he can make himself and however much he might try to protect his friends, he can’t prevent death, so he can only do his best and try to make up for his previous failings. Merula’s still quite angry and Ben’s still quite obstinate...but they both have kind of rallied around Carewyn as co-leaders of the Circle of Khanna, so I think I’ve written them quite a bit more likeable than they are currently. XD;

As for Jacob Cromwell, one thing to keep in mind for my version of Jacob specifically is that he struggled with very suicidal thoughts after losing Olivia and Duncan, when he was forced to work with R, and ESPECIALLY while losing his mind trapped in a Portrait for seven years. The one thing that kept him going was the thought of his little sister, Carewyn, and the thought that she needed him. This is something I hope to tackle at the end of year 6 during the Lakeside confrontation between Carewyn and Jacob.

And yes. This is an AU. Carewyn is not going anywhere, I promise.

TW: Murder, character death, suicidal emotions, violence.

~~~~~~~~~

“Go, Carey!” Tonks shouted, her words muffled by the Bubble Head Charm around her head.

She blasted a pair of angry Grindylows away with a blast of violent, steaming bubbles from her wand. The red hot sparks agitated the Giant Squid, and Diego, Tulip, and Barnaby swam over, counterattacking with their own Bombardment spells.

“Carewyn, go! Now!” barked Talbott, his own gruffer words similarly muffled, as he conjured ropes from his wand and yanked a Grindylow off of Penny’s back. “We’ll cover you!”

Carewyn hesitated.

“But -- ” she tried to say, but the Gillyweed she’d eaten made her words only come out as one large bubble.

Ben grabbed hold of Carewyn’s shoulder, looking from her to the stone courtyard below them. As he’d also taken Gillyweed, his words also came out as a cluster of bubbles.

“We’re running out of time,” Carewyn could see his lips mouth solemnly, holding up his wrist so that his watch (frozen on the time 8:13) was visible so as to make his point clear.

Carewyn’s jaw clenched. She knew Ben was right. The dose of Gillyweed they’d taken wouldn’t last much longer, and the Merpeople had signaled to them that they’d seen Jacob swimming down this way less than an hour ago. He’d no doubt have already reached the Vault -- and if her suspicion was right, Jacob was walking right into a trap --

Nodding decisively, Carewyn turned to Charlie and Merula, who’d both swam through the murky water to her and Ben’s side, blasting several more Grindylows away.

Like Carewyn and Ben, they had the gills and webbed feet and hands that came with ingesting Gillyweed. There hadn’t been enough for everyone in the Circle of Khanna, so the others had improvised with Bubble Head Charms. Ironically enough, the people who’d ended up eating the Gillyweed Penny had collected and saving an extra dose for the return trip were the same ones who’d gone to the Portrait Vault the previous year.

“Come on!” Carewyn said to Ben, Charlie, and Merula, even if they couldn’t properly hear her.

She swam up to Bill urgently, placing one of her webbed hands firmly against his chest.

“Stay here,” she said very sharply.

Bill’s eyes widened.

“What?!” she could see his lips mouth in horror as a large bubble burbled out of them.

“You lead!” Carewyn tried very hard to keep her words simple, since they could only come out as bubbles. “I have to go!”

“NO!” Bill’s vehement denial came out as an even larger bubble.

“Bill, please!” Carewyn shot back more frantically. She squeezed the front of his shirt anxiously. “No time! Lead them! Help me! Protect them!”

She gestured desperately to the others struggling to fend off the Giant Squid and Grindylows. Bill had to be the one to lead them -- he was the strongest of them, and Carewyn knew he was capable of leading them in her stead. He was the only one she trusted with the others’ safety.

Bill looked beside himself. As the oldest of the group, he’d always wanted to protect the others, and he’d already sort of become one of the core members of the Circle of Khanna just based on his position as their assistant teacher. But Carewyn had always been one of his closest friends -- she was like a sister to him, except that she protected and inspired him too, rather than him largely looking after her like he did his real younger siblings. She’d encouraged him with his Cursebreaking from day one, and she was always the one who helped him pick himself up when he was at his lowest point. He’d gone to every single Cursed Vault with Carewyn, and he knew this last one was going to be dangerous...the thought of his best friend going without him -- of him not being there for her, when she was clearly so scared --

Merula let out a cluster of urgent bubbles Carewyn couldn’t understand, since she wasn’t facing her properly, though Carewyn did turn around in time to see Ben add, “We have to go now!”

Charlie grabbed hold of Bill’s sleeve, his other arm looping tightly around Carewyn’s shoulders. She couldn’t make out everything what he was saying, given the amount of bubbles flooding out of his mouth, but her fellow Fireball stared his brother down with a fierce expression.

“ -- Bill -- got her -- won’t let -- to Carey -- promise!”

Bill looked from Charlie, to Ben and Merula, to Carewyn, his expression almost helpless. Traces of bubbles started to form in the corners of his eyes.

Then, clenching his jaw, the eldest Weasley boy grabbed onto both Charlie and Carewyn, cradling the backs of their ginger heads with each of his hands in a physically distant, but raw kind of hug. When he released them, his brown eyes were blazing with both determination and desperation.

“I’ll be -- right -- behind you!” he said very firmly and deliberately, to make sure they understood.

‘Please be careful,’ his expression was pleading with them.

Carewyn gave Bill her best reassuring smile and released his shirt. Then, turning on her heel in the water, she swam straight down to the sunken courtyard that she knew held the doors to the final Cursed Vault, Charlie, Ben, and Merula at her side.

~*~

The underwater courtyard was a spooky place. It was sparse and seemingly endless, dotted with the cracked pillars of some long-abandoned stone pavilion. Algae and moss encroached upon the ruins from all sides -- it was the only life seemingly brave enough to broach the water surrounding the empty stone urns and the intricately tiled mosaic floor. Creepiest of all were the countless statues that littered the sea floor -- dozens of stone fish, grindylows, mermaids, and other underwater life that seemed to have been petrified while trying to swim away.

Carewyn followed the lines of statues with her eyes, back to what they’d been running away from -- and at the back of the Courtyard, she saw a broken stone staircase leading up to a set of double doors not unlike the ones on the other Cursed Vaults.

She waved her arm to get the others’ attention, pointed ahead, and then kicked off through the water, leading them toward the doors.

These doors were unusual from the off-set, for they seemed to be connected to nothing. They merely stood on their own, with nothing but a stone archway over the doors’ frame. It was like the walls and structure it had been a part of had been wiped away.

Ben immediately swam over to the door and tried to yank it open by its door handle. When it didn’t open, he shot several different colored lines of bubbles at it, likely Alohomora and Bombarda.

Merula shook her head.

“Don’t bother!” she mouthed deliberately through a stream of bubbles. “It must -- be like -- the door -- in the -- Portrait Vault!”

She looked at Carewyn.

“Well?” she mouthed through another clump of bubbles. “Any bright ideas?”

Carewyn thought she knew.

Glancing from Merula to Charlie, she slipped the key that Sickleworth had found in the Red Cap’s hole and given to her the previous year. She swam up beside Ben and brushed aside some of the algae covering the door’s knocker, to find a rusted, ornate keyhole.

With a deep breath, Carewyn slipped the coral key into the iron keyhole and with some difficulty turned it.

The door gave a great, booming CLICK. The sound gave a profound ripple through the water, and both doors were abruptly flung open, white light pouring out of them. It was so bright that it was impossible to see anything beyond -- but the lake water Carewyn and her friends swam in seemed to be magically warded away from the archway, rather than flowing through it. It was almost as if the light and water were two similarly charged magnets pushing back against each other.

Carewyn swallowed back the lump that had formed in her throat and looked over at the others.

All three of her companions looked paler than she’d ever seen them. Even Ben, who that entire year had acted so puffed-up and fearless, was unable to hide the trembling hand at his side.

A rush of pity washing over her, Carewyn reached out and took Ben’s hand. The Gryffindor looked down at Carewyn, startled.

“Together?” she asked him. Even though she tried to keep her voice strong, she knew Ben wouldn’t have been able to hear it properly, and it couldn’t disguise how pale she was.

Her restrained fear in her face and the support Carewyn showed despite it, however, made Ben’s eyes soften visibly. He squeezed her hand very tightly, pressing their shoulders together as he rested his head on top of hers in a strange, abridged sort of hug. Then Ben pulled away, looking down at his first real friend with a smile warmer and braver than she’d ever seen on his face.

“Until the end,” he mouthed through a cluster of bubbles.

Carewyn smiled more fully, her blue eyes sparkling. Charlie smiled at Ben too, and he reached out and took his dormmate’s other hand. Carewyn then turned to Merula on her other side and extended a hand to her.

Merula looked from Carewyn’s hand to up at her face and, with an oddly tentative expression, reached out and took it. Once the two were holding hands, Merula gave Carewyn a very tiny smile.

“Let’s do this, Cromwell,” she mouthed.

And the four swam right into the light.

~*~

As soon as they’d crossed the threshold, the group found themselves landing on their feet on the floor of a perfectly dry room. Carewyn felt her gills contorting and flaring with pain, unable to take in the flood of oxygen.

Thinking quickly, she blinked through the spots pounding at her eyes and took the potion Penny had brewed to undo Gillyweed’s effects out of her light gray “Glam Cursebreaker” robes. She splashed a drop of it on her tongue, before quickly hurrying to do the same for the others.

“Charlie, here -- “ she wheezed, as her gills began to slowly seal up and she found it easier to breathe again. “Ben -- Merula, open your mouth, come on -- ”

Her friends gasped for air as Carewyn looked up at the room they’d entered.

This Vault was not like the others. It was a lot bigger, with sea-green-tinted glass walls and clusters of even more stone statues concealing its true size. Unlike the ones outside the Vault, though, these statues were human. Many were dressed in flowing robes and, like the petrified victims outside, looked terrified and were frozen mid-step as if running for the door. One statue in particular caught Carewyn’s eye.

It was the statue of a very pretty girl who looked only about a year older than Percy. Her petrified short hair flapped freely behind her like a stone cape and she had the largest, most striking eyes Carewyn had ever seen. Most notably of all, however, was the tie around the neck of her loose collared shirt.

‘She was a Hogwarts student,’ Carewyn realized.

Judging by the slightly outdated bell-bottom jeans, jellies, and open vest she was wearing, this girl had to have been petrified between eight to ten years ago...

A murky memory rippled over Carewyn’s mind -- the face of the Grey Lady, talking about her brother and his friends...

Carewyn’s eyes widened upon the pretty statue.

“Olivia Green,” she breathed sadly.

“CAREWYN!”

Carewyn and the others all looked up.

Running through the field of statues toward them was a young man with long, curly dark hair and dressed in bright scarlet dress robes.

“Jacob!” Carewyn cried in relief.

She ran to him. Jacob seized hold of her, looking terrified.

“Pip, you’ve got to get out of here -- !”

“Jacob, you’re walking into a trap,” Carewyn said urgently. “R’s here -- they’re going to sacrifice you in order to unlock -- ”

“CROMWELL -- !”

It happened so fast that Carewyn never even had a chance to react to Merula’s scream.

In an instant, a flare of green light had shot across the room, right over Jacob’s shoulder and straight into Carewyn’s forehead, just over her right eye.

Carewyn’s head flinched back and she froze, her blue eyes very wide upon her brother’s face. Jacob stared into her eyes, his entire frame shaking as he saw the light leave them --

“No -- no!”

Carewyn collapsed into Jacob’s arms, her head falling slack against his chest.

“CAREY!” screamed Charlie.

He and Merula both lunged forward. Ben, who did not immediately move, was the only one clear-headed enough to see the swath of dark red sweeping out of the shadows to encircle them.

“PROTEGO MAXIMA!” Ben bellowed.

His shield formed around him, Charlie, Merula, and Jacob like a giant, golden-white bubble, shielding them from the multicolored spells that assaulted them from all sides.

Charlie reached Jacob at last. He seized the back of Carewyn’s light gray robes, bringing a hand up to her neck to try to lift her head.

“Carey -- !”

Charlie’s breath hitched in his throat.

Her blue eyes stared up at him, but they didn’t see him. There was no consciousness or life there -- it was like she was looking right through him...or, rather, like she wasn’t looking through those glassy eyes at all.

Charlie’s wide eyes flooded with tears.

“No...no...”

Merula seized Carewyn’s shoulders, her face filled with desperation as she tried to shake her.

“Cromwell, don’t you dare -- don’t you DARE! Not now!”

Her pink eyes were flooding with tears as her voice rose angrily.

“We made it, Cromwell! This was the last one! The last Vault! And now you’re backing out?! You can’t go down like this, you coward! Come back! COME BACK, YOU -- !”

She was overcome with grief. She clung onto her old rival’s shoulders like it was all she knew how to do, gnashing her teeth and sobbing helplessly.

Ben was frozen where he stood, his wand hand shaking as he tried desperately to maintain the shield over their heads as more violent, colorful spells were lasted at them. He couldn’t let the shield fall -- he had to protect them -- had to protect his --

The memory of Carewyn talking to Charlie in the Hog’s Head in fifth year rippled over his mind.

“I know it’s going to be dangerous in there…but I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect you.”

Yet Carewyn hadn’t even gotten the chance to fight back -- she didn’t even get the chance to go down fighting, the way she should have -- the way she would’ve deserved --

Two lines of tears leaked out of Ben’s eyes and he clenched his jaw in a frantic attempt not to break down.

Charlie had buried his face into Carewyn’s long hair to hide the guilty, grief-stricken tears streaming down his face.

He’d promised Bill -- he’d promised that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Carewyn -- he’d failed her -- failed Bill -- it was all his --

Shaking worst of any of them, however, was Jacob. He held his younger sister like she was a doll, his expression almost as lifeless as Carewyn’s. The color in his face and the light in his eyes were also gone, even as his whole body was rattled with quaking, tear-less shudders. His hands clutched at Carewyn’s back, and his empty eyes trailed over her ghostly white face.

“Morning, Pippa!” Jacob’s own voice as a boy echoed over and over again in his ears. “Sing us a song, Pippa!”

“ACK!”

Ben was thrown roughly off his feet when his powerful shield came crashing down under the weight of the spells barraging it. There was an unpleasant snap as he collided with the floor, and he gave a choked yelp of pain -- one of the bones in his leg had fractured.

All at once, Jacob, Charlie, Merula, and Ben were surrounded by an endless wall of dark scarlet robes.

Out of the wall came a trio of figures, also dressed in dark scarlet hoods, though the one in the center had intricate black trim on theirs.

“Fetch the corpse,” he instructed the figure to his right.

Merula leapt to her feet.

“Over my dead body!” she snarled.

Standing over Jacob, Charlie, and Carewyn’s body, she started blasting spells at the figure who’d approached. The hooded figure, however, was clearly very talented, judging by how they blocked every one of Merula’s spells with methodical precision. Once they’d gotten close enough, they blasted Merula off her feet, throwing her back into one of the stone statues, which shattered under her weight.

��We weren’t intending to kill all of you -- at least not right away,” said the figure very coolly as they raised their wand. “But you did say ‘over your dead body,’ so I suppose I can oblige -- ”

“Confringo!”

Out of nowhere, a light blue blast of magic slammed straight into the figure’s chest with a loud BAM. The force of the Blasting Curse was so strong that it slammed the figure to the ground in an unconscious, bloodied heap.

Ben shakily got up, standing on his injured leg with amazing resilience despite the pain he was clearly in.

“Get back!” he hissed at the group of hooded figures.

The Leader, however, merely chuckled.

“Ah -- this was the one you used the Imperius Curse on, wasn’t it, Blaise? A rather feisty pawn, I must say -- a bit like Duncan Ashe.”

Jacob’s whole body gave a horrible lurch at the sound of Duncan’s name, though his hollow eyes never left Carewyn’s lifeless face.

One of the robed figures in the background mumbled something to the leader, sounding almost hesitant. The leader shot the voice’s owner a look over his shoulder.

“We needed a sacrifice to enter the Vault -- the ‘ultimate price.’ And since Jacob Cromwell was the one who tried to open the column in this Vault, it was he that needed to pay up.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, his expression contorting with horror, fury, and pain.

“It wasn’t Jacob’s life you wanted,” he whispered. “You weren’t luring him here -- you were luring...”

“The most valuable thing in Jacob’s life,” the Leader said very crisply. “We thought that one of his best friends might do the trick...but even with Duncan Ashe’s body, the Sunken Vault’s column would not open, since the other Vaults had been opened out of order. So we needed someone to reopen the Vaults for us -- someone with Legilimency and a vested interest in breaking the curses...Jacob was already getting rebellious at that point, so he was out of the question. Even if we threatened his family’s lives, we knew he would turn on us the instant he found out what price had to be paid. And the treasure in that Vault is one I’ve chased for quite some time -- I have no intention of losing it now.”

The Leader raised his wand, pointing it right at Jacob.

“Imperi -- ”

But before the Imperius Curse could land, a blast of black magic collided with the Leader’s hand.

The Leader screamed in agony as his hand was wrenched backwards, snapping the bones of his wrist with a horrible CRACK.

Jacob straightened up, releasing Carewyn so that Charlie alone was holding her. The red-haired Gryffindor looked up at Jacob -- but what he saw was even more terrifying than the hoard that surrounded them.

Jacob’s wide blue eyes had lost all trace of light or humanity. Their pupils were as small and black as pitch, devoid of all consciousness or sanity, as if the young wizard had been possessed by some horrific beast.

Jacob raised his wand high, and the black magic around the Leader’s hand hoisted the man up into the air, right off his feet. Then, in an instant, it tore into the Leader’s flesh, ripping his wand arm right off as if the man were made of paper, and threw him to the ground.

All at once the mass of scarlet robes devolved around Jacob. Blasts of red, yellow, black, and white raged, missing Charlie and Carewyn’s body by mere inches.

“PROTEGO MAXIMA!”

Ben stumbled over to the others, holding his wand aloft to stabilize the Shield Charm around them. On the other side, Jacob cut down the scarlet-robed figures one by one with unmatched, untamed ferocity, his dark, empty eyes consumed with rage.

Merula stared at Carewyn’s older brother through the clear shield, her posture shrinking as she hunched in on herself, closer to Charlie.

“He’s...he’s gone mad,” she whispered. She was visibly shaken.

Charlie clung to Carewyn’s prone frame that bit more tightly, as if subconsciously wanting to shield her from the sight.

Jacob Cromwell had gone mad -- mad with grief.

~*~

Bill swam down to the underwater courtyard as fast as he could, the rest of the Circle just behind him. At the back of the courtyard was a open set of double doors with bright white light pouring out of it.

Bill could feel his gills starting to seal up -- he’d either have to swim up to the surface and put on a Bubble Head Charm very quickly, or he’d have to hope there was air inside the Sunken Vault --

“Come on!” he urged the others on, and though his words came out as a large bubble, he was able to beckon them to follow after him as he headed for the bright light.

Bill gasped for air when his feet met the floor. He brought a hand up to his neck, feeling his gills sealing up.

‘That was close,’ he thought.

Then the eldest Weasley caught a strange sound -- a familiar voice.

“Jacob, wait -- wait -- !”

Rakepick?

All sense forgotten, Bill dashed forward, toward the source of the sound.

“DOLORE ARDERE!” roared a young man’s voice. “DISCUTIO MAXIMA!”

“JACOB!”

Up ahead, Bill could see Patricia Rakepick and Jacob Cromwell hotly engaged in battle. Rakepick was on the defensive, with Jacob lashing out at her violently.

“I never meant for this to happen!” Rakepick said, sounding more frightened and fragile than Bill had ever heard her sound before. “I wouldn’t have hurt her -- I never would’ve -- !”

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Jacob’s acid green Killing Curse missed Rakepick’s ear by inches.

Bill dashed forward, raising his wand and pointing it at Rakepick.

“STUPEFY!”

Because Rakepick was so focused on Jacob, she couldn’t react fast enough to avoid Bill’s scarlet spell before it collided with her shoulder. The ex-professor froze up and, her eyes rolling closed, she collapsed, Stunned.

Although Rakepick had fallen, however, Jacob hadn’t lowered his wand. Instead he moved as if to grab her, raising his wand as it lit up with dangerous violet sparks.

“Hey!”

Bill grabbed Jacob’s shoulders, shoving him away from Rakepick and holding him back so he couldn’t get closer.

“It’s over!” he urged Jacob. “She’s down!”

It was only as Bill was holding Jacob that he noticed the countless bodies strewn across the floor.

Jacob yanked and shoved against Bill’s grip like some mad dog.

“LET ME GO! LET GO OF ME, I’LL KILL HER -- I’LL KILL HER, FOR WHAT THEY -- !”

“Take it easy!” Bill reproached him sharply. “Calm down -- ”

“Bill!”

Bill looked up over the raging Jacob’s frame and his heart leapt.

“Charlie! Thank goodness -- ”

As soon as the word left his throat, however, he saw the thick tear tracks on Charlie’s face -- on Ben’s...Merula’s...

Bill’s eyes widened.

“Carey...where’s Carey?”

Charlie looked up at his brother, guilt staining his face. Then his eyes again filled with tears as he stepped backward, bent down, and scooped something up off the ground, carrying it over with some difficulty.

It was Carewyn. Her eyes were closed as if she were sleeping, but her face was whiter than a sheet and her frame was motionless and limp in Charlie’s arms.

Bill’s heart spasmed horribly in his chest.

“NO!”

He shook his head desperately, his eyes shooting to Ben, to Merula, to Charlie -- but none of them could give him the comfort he sought.

Bill began to shake horribly, his hands clenching and unclenching over what they were holding -- what was he holding? He didn’t even know --

Carewyn dead -- Carewyn gone...it was too horrible for him to comprehend. How did it happen? How could it happen? Was it Rakepick? Had she -- !?

He wasn’t there -- he couldn’t --

Bill looked down at his hands, still clutching onto Jacob Cromwell’s shoulders.

That’s right -- he’d been holding onto Carewyn’s brother --

Jacob had stopped fighting against Bill’s grip. It was as if Bill asking about Carewyn had shot him out of his vengeful trance -- he’d abruptly gone slack, his shoulders quaking as he stared around at the unconscious and dead bodies littering the floor of the Vault, his eyes moving over them while barely seeing them.

Bill inhaled shakily, failing to fight back the tears overtaking his vision.

“...Jacob...you...”

Jacob peeled himself out of Bill’s hold, turning very precariously on his heel so that he was facing the others. Merula, Ben, and Charlie all flinched back as Jacob moved over to them, stopping in front of Charlie. He brought his hand up under Carewyn’s head and gently cradled it as he bent over her, resting his head on her chest.

“...Is...all right with the world, Pippa?”

His question was choked and broken -- a shadow of the cocky, confident voice he usually had.

But of course it was...for without Carewyn -- the one person who had been the little flare of light that could always beat back his darkest despair -- Jacob Cromwell was nothing but a shadow.

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ganymedesclock · 5 years ago

Text

Kept meaning to draw more Dead Cells headcanons but w/e so I’m writing them instead.

Prisoner

Does not have clean pretty Hollywood amnesia nearly as much as he remembers everything pre-losing his head technically but in practice, unreliably and wandering too far into memories he can’t ground with more recently observed evidence is just going through a fever dream of what he’s pretty sure maybe probably actually happened at some point.

Related to above he has a breathtaking command of information he has no idea how he learned or from whom.

One time he spent an entire fairly prolonged loop with a particularly bawdy sea shanty stuck in his head and to this day he is not sure if he completely made it up but probably not because he didn’t even know half of those terms were used euphemistically.

Amenable to most pronouns, but mostly he’d just really like it if someone actually asked.

Overall is just in rough shape. Some of the alterations to his clothing are that he lost a concerning amount of weight prior to his ‘loop reset state’ and used scraps of cloth to tie his shirt and pants on.

If he could talk and had anybody besides Mushroom Boi to hang out with, would absolutely be the kind of guy where you’re lying in bed half-awake and he says some shit like “do we know factually that swans aren’t just an elaborate hoax” and then you spend the next hour wide awake and angry furiously wracking your brain for the last time you personally saw a swan.

Can pull his fire head close enough to press at his neck stub which basically looks like he turtles inside his scarf

Trying really hard to be cool and unaffected by the dying repeatedly thing and mostly succeeds unless it’s been happening a lot lately.

At any given moment is about three good shoves from an emotional breakdown but the other people in the loop virtually never catch him at it. Basically his psychological state is like looking at a precariously but very strategically balanced bookshelf where the longer you look at it the more upsetting it is that it’s still standing and yet somehow.

Mushroom Boi helps

Mushroom Boi

Has the approximate level of sapience of an abnormally smart dog. Could carry simple conversations if given some kind of proxy to communicate through and the training to use it.

Really unusual compared to the Jerkshrooms whose instinct to kneecap people is hampered by a general fear of anything larger than them that isn’t a Yeeter. Mushroom Boi inexplicably fears nothing. They will headbutt the Hand of the King. They will headbutt the Giant. If given a clear path to their target they would headbutt the gods.

In fact has less fear than Prisoner “haha YOLO” McHeadless which can lead to some interesting results.

Part of the weirdness is them being a lab-grown and human-socialized specimen but also they actually had a surprisingly decent relationship with the researcher responsible for synthesizing them, though the Alchemist took ownership of the project because said researcher went the way of, well, almost everyone else on the island.

They’re coherent enough to wonder what happened to him sometimes.

Keyed decently to Prisoner’s emotional states even when he hides it and has genuinely therapy-mushroomed him off a panic attack at least once.

Y’know that thing in the RE2 remake where Mr. X will kill you faster if you shoot his hat off? Mushroom Boi will do that about their bow. Which is impressive since this is not a superweapon but instead an approximately toddler-sized mushroom.

Sometimes it seems like they might be in the process of figuring out how to use knives and Prisoner is really not sure what emotion he’s supposed to feel but he sure feels it with great intensity.

Time Keeper

She keeps the winding key for the clocktower close to heart by which I mean it’s physically inside her chest. Good news is nobody can sneeze weirdly in the island’s time loop without her knowing about it. Bad news is her way of knowing is unpleasant. The worse news is the deterioration of the loop is partially because an essential and irreplaceable part of the clock has been playing a long losing game against crushing amounts of fatigue and said essential part is her.

Y’know every time she resets the loop or rewinds to avoid a boss fight? Yeah. That sensation sucks a lot and sorta feels like deliberately inducing arrhythmia in yourself.

Doesn’t get sleep she gets results except if she is dead honest god she yearns for eight uninterrupted hours but also that is a luxury she can’t afford. Too disciplined and perfectionist to be a shirker but if she ever gets an actual practical opportunity to be well-rested she might cry a little.

Not from the island originally; came from a very long ways away, for reasons she has not explained to anyone. At least, as far as anybody knows. the Crypt Keeper isn’t telling.

Three of the alt temporal outfits are places she lived (volcano, jungle, desert) or traveled through coming here. She’s originally from the desert.

Dead-on-her-feet exhausted most of the time. This can mean she comes off as an unstoppable and unnervingly calm terminator who might acknowledge belatedly that she’s just gotten stabbed after she’s tossed you across the room with one of her many, many giant heavy swords, and it can mean sometimes if she’s having a really bad loop she just walks into a closed door, stops, and stays there for a while.

This isn’t a headcanon I just want to point out that she’s canonically more jacked than HotK because Prisoner picks up and wields HotK’s symmetrical lance, but in the optional lore room where you find all of Time Keeper’s swords, Prisoner notes they’re too heavy for him to use.

Prisoner, signing, terrified “Do I weigh anything to you?” Time Keeper, “no it’s like holding a couple of grapes”

She used to have a rigorous workout routine but nowadays who needs that when you’re endlessly surrounded by the living dead, right.

#Dead Cells #readmore #body horror

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feather-dancer · 4 years ago

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Now Ghosts he left behind Chapter 3 has been out nearly a couple of weeks suppose now is an acceptable amount of time to go on about ~*themes*~ that have been cropping up in the fic so far that aren’t at all plot relevant but are still important things I want to do justice to: LGBT+ rep and mental health particularly centred around anxiety. Understandably the following will contain spoilers I can’t avoid it, sorry!

~~~

Mental health

It probably doesn’t come as too big a surprise on the latter front, after all in the second chapter of the Strickler fic I tagged for unhealthy coping mechanisms which are loosely based on my own which also happened to have a reference at the end of the second chapter in Ghost!AU showing how far he’d come since then. Now I’ve read some excellent fics on the PTSD front, a few on dysphoria regarding the change from human to half troll but in regards to anxiety many seem to fall into the trap of thinking somebody is a bit more skittish or that it just gives you a more nervous nature. As somebody who has generalised anxiety myself, I really wish it was that simple.

In this fic’s case the anxiety is being heavily tangled in the dysphoria of the change where he’s left alone to process everything while being hit with reminders of what he no longer is thus putting more fuel on the pyre as a result. In a stressful situation (Sometimes not even then!) it can get stuck in a loop of self-created belief such as here Merlin kept him away deliberately though we know this isn’t the case and will warp reality/memories to fit like how he misremembers that Merlin also said his visions are imperfect if there’s nothing to snap you out of it then those spirals often lead to panic attacks or worse a full breakdown. Here his brain is trying to make sense of the impossible, jumping to the most logical conclusion it can come up with and through bad luck has this very wrong thought process that he’s a threat to everyone else. Having been on one or two of these they really do suck! Quite often dissociation goes hand in hand whether you’re aware of it happening or not and thus far he’s had a couple bouts that he’s dubbing blackouts currently. There is also the classic ‘background’ noise variant where for no real reason your fight / flight reflex is jammed on when it feels like it though Jim as shown by the CBD techniques at the start of chapter 3 is doing his best to keep a handle on those spiking too far and Claire mentions he taught her a few to help out to show that his friends know and he is able to talk about it without feeling the need to hide in plain sight every waking moment. If you’re forced to stealth you get frighteningly good about hiding full blown panic attacks and it’s not a healthy situation to be in.

On Toby’s end he mentions a specific situation where anxiety was likely involved before Jim was diagnosed. In it when confronted with a situation option a was bad, option b was worse and there was no good outcomes because his brain got stuck on those. He also mentions being moral support helping get Jim into a position that he would be able to go home but refused to leave him alone until he was sure he was okay. It’s worth pointing out he figured the reason everything kicked off was the ‘problem’ of coming out to Barbara and her not reacting well (Which was an understandable conclusion!) and only later realised anxiety was what made the entire thing even worse and he unintentionally did the right thing to help. Barbara also mentions Jim being on medication for it, the original ones to mysteriously stop working which are implied to be while Toby was pretending to be Jim then moved onto another treatment which was brought up via Strickler’s concern about going cold turkey. As much as anxiety freaking sucks I felt it was important to show that nothing in relation to it is treated as abnormal, it is simply life with having your brain being a bit on the funky side and that sometimes makes you think illogically. It’s not your fault when it happens.

~~~

LGBT+

When I began writing this fic one thing I wanted from the get go is that characters who are LGBT+ are not forced into a scenario created by the plot to out them to the reader/someone else nor signposted in a cheap way to score points because even when you’re with friends who know you’re not saying it every two seconds and even more so when in a stressful circumstance where your son/best friend is currently missing. With this thought in mind, Jim has always been written as Trans but prior to Chapter 3 I simply had no way to bring it up because right now he’s too busy freaking out about being a half troll to notice if anything is different and on this same coin, Claire is Bi while Toby is Pan with a bonus order of trying to figure himself out. There’s others too! Sadly much like confirming Jim is also Bi I’ve not had a way to naturally bring it up as yet if I will at all but they are being written with it in mind.

Jim was a trickier one to bring up because he’s not about to vouch for himself so it was a much easier route to instead hint drop and hope one if not all of them clicked with a reader who he is without any of them being done in a way that could come across as dickish. Barbara got the first two with mentioning Jim should know better about using a given name in regards to Not!Enrique and a second one in regards to another form of medication he’s taking but because she didn’t know if Strickler knew (Incidentally he does) thus she deliberately phrased it vaguely and was ready for the possibility of upset without outing her son because she’s a good parent!! Toby is who gets the rest through a roundabout way mentioning how bad his pre-medicated anxiety could be when he came out as mentioned in the previous section and a second time where he says he didn’t care what he looked like because Jim is always Jim to him. The final important note was how he specifically said that he would not second party exactly what happened because it’s Jim’s choice if he tells her or not. We love and support good friends in this house.

Then there was the inclusion of the river troll Trisantona who is marked as non-binary by calling themselves the child of and the kids think absolutely nothing of it and are more annoyed with their attitude than anything else. Personally I see many trolls and changelings particularly very eh about gender and wanted a little implication they are far from the first troll they’ve encountered who doesn’t fit a human binary so it doesn’t even register as unusual.

In Claire’s case she had two hints, the first bring a straight joke because it might be low hanging fruit but it’s hilarious I can’t help it while the second was her commentary on Toby’s reactions to name drops because she couldn’t resist teasing him. Small but both very deliberate.

Toby in the meanwhile has been having hint drops since chapter 2 which has only continued in how he keeps comparing reactions Claire is causing to what Jim does to him then you get him openly telling Claire about how it feels like his heart is a bunch of apartments and can the world stop having so many good-looking people in it. That ties in with the two mentions of doing research for a word he hasn’t quite got yet but he’s mostly been sidetracked by everything going on right now.

Homophobia, biphobia and particularly transphobia is rife and only increasing in this country where it feels like every week it’s only getting worse. While in the grand scheme of things it’s probably inconsequential it is important to be the change you want to see in the world. Mine? Even in this mess of an angst fic I want to showcase LGBT+ peeps who are treated as they should be with love and support by friends, family and strangers alike. Being Trans, Bi or whichever label that particular character uses it is simply part of who they are and not a character trait slapped on afterwards for easy points plus if I see one more fic where a Trans character gets outted to others without their consent because the author figured that’s the only way you can do it I’ll go feral.

In a completely unrelated note Douxie is non-binary Panromatic Ace in everything I write and anybody who doesn’t like that can suck it.

#writing #Ghost!AU

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darkestwolfx · 5 years ago

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Afternoon Tea

Wolfie intended to post this last night and she fell asleep. Really sorry, Tsari! This week might be a more successful writing week though as I don’t have as many calls scheduled in, meaning I can stay in my own time zone a bit more. Hooray!

Anyhow, I won’t babble too much, I’ll just jump into the long-awaited and deserved fic (and yes, Tsari, there are still more after this so don’t panic)!

So, more wishes to grant, and here was the next on the list. This is something nice and friendshippy between Ned and John? Bonus points for including Gladys and EOS for @tsarinatorment as part of @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief2020. And I suppose it kind of covers a bit of Parker babysitting for you as well.

For a reference, imagine this is set after 'A Seed Once Sown'. You don't have to read that to understand this, but basically, John gets Ned a new job as the Tracy Family's gardener, so you're all caught up now. Also, I've only given this the one, quick proof read due to time constraints, so any mistakes are my own, sorry!

Summary: A not so normal family couldn't be expected to have strictly normal friends. So what if they were pot plants and AI's? Scott swears it's all something of a dream, he's overtired as it. But did someone say cake?

Word count: Just under 6000, I think, maybe 5800-ish?

----------

Scott honestly couldn't remember what he was meant to be asking John anymore. Alan and Gordon were planning something, that much he could tell, and they'd needed to know something which Scott's brotherly knowledge didn't extend to. He might be the eldest, but that didn't mean he had a decent understanding of physics. That, was John's area, as he had remembered pointing out, to which Alan and Gordon promptly stated;

"We tried!"

"We can't get a hold of him to ask him."

"So we thought we'd ask you."

Scott remembered trying not to be offended.

"But you knew I wouldn't know that."

"We thought that was likely."

"But asking was worthwhile."

Scott had shaken his head, not really sure how to deal with the troublesome pair when their energy levels were at a full on sugar high, the day off running through their bloodstream like an additional stimulant, and honestly Scott just wanted to rest, have a moment of peace and quiet. As it was, they were heading towards Gordon and Alan finishing each other's sentences by the end of the day whilst they created chaos.

The chaos would be created anyway. There was a sparkle in brown and blue eyes, one that Scott knew all too well-meant trouble – maybe another minor explosion, great. John wouldn't be able to stop them. The plan was clearly laid, but if they wanted to ask John something, Scott figured it was probably worth trying to follow the query through. It might reduce the chances of something exploding, after all.

"What makes you think I'll be able to get hold of him?"

"He always answers you."

"Yeah."

Scott didn't think that was strictly true, but he couldn't be bothered to argue, so he went with it.

And that was how he ended up here. Here being sitting on the sofa in the lounge, listening to Gordon and Alan's master-planning floating in from the sunny poolside, wishing maybe he could be out there napping (or was that dangerous with the terrible two around?) whilst waiting for John to answer.

For the third time.

So, no John didn't always answer him.

Scott was prepared to go out and tell his youngest brothers that, no, he wasn't successful either, stuff it all and go back to bed, but… those same eldest brother instincts were niggling. They'd been given life after the blonde pair told him John hadn't answered, and they'd been nibbling freely at his youth ever since his first call went unanswered.

One more call. He told himself. He would try once more. Then he would tell the troublemakers there was no success, risk of explosion and all, and try to go back to bed. He was tired. He hated days off; that first day of quiet, of nothing, it made him feel far more tired than any stream of rescues did.

It was the stopping, he supposed.

He had time to 'suppose' on the subject whilst he waited for the call to connect.

And waited.

And realised he must be getting even more grey hairs at this rate.

The call didn't connect.

The nibbling turned to biting.

EOS wouldn't. Scott knew that now. He'd spent far too much time seeing her for who she really was, witnessing the lengths she would go to for John (and them), and many hours speaking with her. Prattling, as Virgil would probably say.

EOS wouldn't, but that didn't mean the vast world of Space would be as kind. He got up, giving in, and heading for the desk.

Thunderbird Five was still there. The scans weren't showing any alerts or damage and there wasn't any maintenance on the scheduling list and Brains was still here, wasn't he?

"Hey Scott."

"Nothing, blast."

"Uhh… ok?"

He pulled his head up. Virgil was standing on the opposite side of the lounge, looking very miffed. Probably debating whether he should admit his brother to an institution. Virgil hadn't thought quite that drastically, although he had been deliberating how badly Scott would shout at him if he called Grandma up to look over the eldest.

"I didn't see you there."

"You didn't hear me either, clearly."

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Hey Scott."

"Right."

"What's taken your attention? Grey Hairs?"

"Hey!"

It was meant to sound more commanding than that, but it was bit half hearted really. The biting was rather violently taking chunks out of his bloodstream. Or it felt like it.

Virgil just nodded.

"Something serious then."

"Yeah. Brains is still here, isn't he?"

"Where else would he be?" Virgil seemed quite confused.

"I can't get hold of John. I thought maybe something had come up?"

"No, Brains is still building his to scale model of that thing from Atlantis."

"Right. So where's John?"

Virgil, laughed.

"Grey hairs indeed."

"What?"

"John's fine. EOS left me a virtual note. Some new answer machine type thing, she and John have tried to install. They're having afternoon tea with the Queen."

"He's what?"

"Yeah, I spoke to him earlier, well to EOS, briefly. John was greeting their guest apparently. But they are both fine, save yourself another grey hair."

With that, Virgil was heading out into the sunshine, risking whatever Gordon and Alan had up their sleeves. The chatter started up, but Scott was only half-listening. He was still mulling over what Virgil had said. John was ok, that was good enough for him to cease worrying – well, sort of, the biting was slowing back down to simple annoying nibbling; present, but not all encompassing anymore.

No, Scott was actually focusing on the part about afternoon tea with the Queen. He could hardly believe that Lady Penelope had managed to get John down to Earth again. The secrecy part, the not being told, that he could believe. Still- hold on.

The metaphor of holding horses went straight through Scott's mind as he pulled his head up like one might tug fiercely on the reins.

Virgil had spoken to EOS. EOS who never left the safe confines of Thunderbird Five unless strictly necessary. Furthermore, Virgil had said John was greeting their guest… oh. The Queen had gone to Thunderbird Five?

Carefully, Scott reached out to pinch the skin of his arm. He would have asked someone else to do it, but never again were his brother's going anywhere near him with pincers poised.

Still, he maybe didn't need to pinch himself quite as hard as he did.

"Ow!"

"You alright Scott?" Virgil called in.

"Yeah! Fine! Stubbed my… toe."

"Found grey hairs more like it." He heard Gordon mumble, and there was probably some agreement from Alan there as well, but he switched his hearing loop for the pair off. He'd had quite enough of that.

Point was though, he wasn't dreaming. Because this could have all been an elaborate dream out of tiredness.

Scott was trying to work out how to get his answers…. Maybe Grandma would know? When suddenly, a call came through.

It was Thunderbird Five. It was John.

"Scott?"

"There you are!"

He tried not to seem too relived. Although the niggling finally died a death.

"Sorry, um- Can you, thanks." There was a strange shuffling and passing of… was that a teacup? Scott momentarily wondered if he'd fallen through a rabbit whole like Alice and made his way into Wonderland. Wasn't that story all about drugs though? Or magic mushrooms or something? Maybe he hadn't then… Maybe he was going mad. "Did you need something?"

"Gordon and Alan wanted something. Nothing desperate. Uh… I can't even remember."

"They're not trying to make improvised explosives again, are they?"

"I honestly didn't ask."

Scott never asked anymore, not after all the trouble with shaken up and exploding bottles of Cola. Grandma had gone berserk, and it was easier to claim innocence if you knew nothing. Also, if it was all a prank, intended for him, he'd almost rather not know what was coming. He just kept an eye on the pair of them, and never let them do the supply run together ever again. Even if that meant owing Virgil a bloody ton for constantly going, dutifully with Grandma.

"Probably unwise."

Scott shrugged.

"I can talk to them, quickly, if they're around?"

"They by the pool. I wouldn't worry, not if you're busy. Virgil… Virgil said something about the Queen?"

"I haven't heard anything. I can check the news if you want? Hold on. No, EOS, Battenburg is the pink and yellow one. Well, Scott?"

"Well…?"

The eldest was still trying to put everything together. Was Virgil playing a practical joke on him? John didn't seem to know anything about the Queen. And had he heard cake mentioned? Maybe he really was losing it.

"There's no reports of anything to do with the Queen. I could ask Lady Penelope if she knows anything?"

"Right, um, are you-

"John-"

"EOS, jam tarts are red."

"What?"

"Sorry Scott, you were saying?"

Scott honestly didn't know what he was trying to say right about now.

And of course, that moment of his great confusion was when his brothers reappeared, Virgil shouting at Gordon that once his new tin of paint arrived, the fish would be doing naught but fixing Thunderbird Two.

Scott realised he'd obviously missed something there too.

"Oh look it's John."

"Is that tea?"

"John's having tea with the Queen." Virgil reminded.

"Oh, really?"

"And we weren't invited."

Scott didn't notice that John too had frowned here, about to say something before he was beaten to it.

"He's not having tea with the Queen!"

"Um… okay?" Virgil began, once again a little unsure. John was blinking in confusion, looking back to EOS as though she held the answers, and if the AI could have shrugged, she would have. "Are you doing okay, Scott?"

"I'm so confused!"

"Right," John began, clearing his throat, "Let me try and clear the problem here."

Scott was more than pleased to let him. That is, after all, what his brother did best.

"Go for it. Who the hell are you having tea with?"

---------

Ned was experienced in many things. He'd worked in space; under the sea; with one of the biggest defense organisations known to the world and with a selection of important vaults. He'd faced death at the tendrils of the sun; at the ends of the perilous deep ocean's grip; at the hands of an irate Colonel; some Mechanical guy; and a poisonous gas.

He was experienced in many things, and Gladys had been by his side for them all, but he was only truly experienced in one thing.

Gardening.

Well, maybe two: he was pretty good at making tea.

Oh, make it three: he was a very good baker, if he didn't say so himself.

Thanks to those Tracy boys, Ned had realised where he belonged. He always should have stuck with gardening. Gladys liked gardening too.

His business was flying by now. He had quite the clientele on his list and brilliant references from International Rescue to get his foot in any door. It was all rather surprising, how all of this had come out of one offer to become a gardener to a family in need.

It had been a while since he'd seen any of the Tracy boys, but today was different.

Space looked different when you weren't going up there to work, or with limited interest. He was keenly awaiting sight of the one Thunderbird he'd yet to properly see.

He'd spent a lot of time baking and he hoped he'd made enough. He had four hold-all's full, but he'd seen the appetite on that family.

Although, then again, he was only meeting one man and a machine.

Speaking of, the space station swung into his view, looking like it belonged in the vast floatiness.

"Here we are, Gladys! Thunderbird Five!"

And he'd been waiting a very long time for this.

---------

John had been a little more than surprised when Ned asked if he could come to Thunderbird Five. They'd had the date on the calendar for a while now. Ned may have his own business, but he still maintained the Tracy Island gardens, and John had been in contact with the man ever since he left the safe haven of the island. Ned had kept himself miraculously out of trouble since, actually.

So no, John wasn't surprised by their meeting, but definitely by the choice of location. He'd assumed Ned wouldn't want to step foot in space again after the asteroid mine and the iridium vault. But, Ned wanted to see Thunderbird Five, and (maybe most surprisingly of all) EOS, again. Apparently, Gladys missed having a friend.

John had thought that a little silly at first. Because a non-sentient pot plant couldn't possibly miss what it didn't have, but then EOS had made a gleeful point about having missed her potty pink companion and John honestly wondered if it was possible for plants to have sentience. They did have life, after all. Ned certainly seemed to believe there was more to them, what with this great love for all things garden.

He'd agreed. Because, after all, it did save him from ending up at some coffee shop of choice with gravity down on Earth. He much preferred staying here anyhow.

He'd had EOS leave a message for his brothers, so they knew he was there, but not readily available for any great scheme that was being concocted in the absence of work. They'd been working on a new program recently, so that people could leave International Rescue messages, in case of busy times, or if they ever needed to go 'out of office' again so to speak. John was sure it was fine, so he'd left the job of leaving the first ever message with EOS, in the hope that the holo-communication system would display it.

And if not, Virgil would know he was alive. They'd been chatting for a bit whilst Virgil had him place an order for some new paint for Thunderbird Two. Alan or Gordon – John didn't know who and he didn't want to know – had scratched Thunderbird Two on the last outing. Again.

And so the day had come, and Ned arrived. John had offered him to come via Tracy Island and the Space Elevator, but Ned had proclaimed he wanted to surprise his brothers, and besides, had already booked himself and Gladys onto a nice little connecting flight via the newly rebuilt Space Hub One. John had merely smiled and let the man go about his odd ways, although he had asked that Ned say hello to a Chief Controller Conrad for him. He'd been more than happy to pick Ned up from the Space Hub, but Conrad had sent someone to him instead.

So he and EOS hadn't moved a muscle in waiting for their guest until EOS registered that it was time to open the airlock.

John had expected Ned and Gladys. He hadn't expected the boxes.

"Hello!"

"Ned. Nice to see you again. And Gladys."

"It's very nice to be here. Gladys is very excited."

"Yes, well, what's all this?"

"We're having afternoon tea."

"Yes, but-"

"Well, I took to presuming you might not keep tea on a space station."

"Um, no I don't as it happens."

"Good! Because I've brought my best china. Here you go."

And before John really knew what was going on, he was carrying two boxes whilst Ned carried the last and Gladys, making his way into Thunderbird Five by following EOS along her track. He was commenting on everything, saving nothing for later, musing over why it was all so white, and whether he needed it painted because Ned could do painting (apparently), and complimenting the nice little colours on the windows.

John didn't even bother to remind him they weren't really windows or correct him on any amount of stuff. The man was harmless and simple. Everything someone from International Rescue, like himself, needed the odd dose of.

They'd chattered aimlessly whilst Ned brewed tea and set multiple sweet treats onto plates. EOS was eyeing them all, jealously, not really even knowing what they were or what they tasted like, but John did. And he could see multiple traditional favourites. And he liked what he saw. EOS was googling them. Again. Honestly, he'd told her google was rubbish. It would only be a matter of time before something came out of that.

But when the tea was brewed to Ned's satisfaction, they sat themselves – as best as you can in space – with their pristine china teacups, all white with pink edging. They were obviously kept for best, just as Ned had said.

EOS was hovering by his shoulder, and Ned has rested Gladys by his side, with multiple plates surrounding the pot. If John was anyone else, besides John Tracy son of Jeff Tracy and member of International Rescue, he honestly would have been baffled at the sight of two men, an AI and a plant pot, sharing tea with cake and biscuits. Oh, not forgetting the whole in space part.

The picture would have made quite the post card.

Lady Penelope would have loved it. As proof he was socialising.

"So how's business, Ned?"

"Oh no complaints here. I do a good trade in Petunias."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, fly off the imaginary shelves they do! Because I keep them in the ground, get it?"

"Yes, I got that."

"Course you did. You're the smart one. That's what Gladys and I think."

"That's very kind of you."

"John?" EOS butted in, well sort of. It was an open conversation, and Ned had come to see her just as much as he'd come to see him, John reminded himself. He'd even gone so far as to offer her a biscuit. John had resisted the urge to face palm. It wasn't polite afternoon tea manners, he remembered. Besides, EOS had laughed, clearly finding it quite entertaining before asking Ned for a description of what said biscuit tasted like – so she could learn. Which had then led them to a rather interesting commentary on the flavours of different biscuits, Ned describing to EOS precisely why Highland Shortbread was different to Shortbread Snaps. John munched thoughtfully on a piece of each, realising he'd never noticed the distinct sugary difference before. Or rather, if he ever had known it, he'd forgotten all about it.

That was exactly what he meant: about the grandeur of International Rescue overpowering the littlest of things. Ned was a reminder.

"Yes EOS?"

"Can we have a garden?"

"I don't know if it would last, EOS."

"Oh… but it would be lovely to have bright plants around us!"

John could actually kind of imagine it. And he wasn't sure if was a good idea or not.

"I suppose, but-"

"Oh, it wouldn't be any trouble to do!"

"I'm not a gardener though, Ned."

And even if he was, he didn't know if he could achieve the growing and successful life of plants in space.

"I can do it! Bring some hardy plants up, find a place for them. We could do that, couldn't we, Gladys?"

A moment of silence whilst they waited dutifully the amount of time it would take for the plant to give an imaginary 'yes'.

It was the only thing John still wasn't quite used to.

"Well, I suppose we could always try it."

It was more to placate his company than because he thought it was a good idea. Only time would tell. And at least he could say he'd tried.

"Hooray!" EOS was definitely like a child still. "I wonder if they'll grow as big as the ones I saw on Earth?"

"They were growth serum induced EOS."

And that he was definitely not heaving up here.

"And I seem to remember having a fever."

John was honesty trying to discount that entire plant mad day from his memory banks still.

"Oh, and I've been meaning to say- Jam tart?"

"Thank you."

"-Thanks for letting me do all the gardening. On the Island."

"Oh, no thank you, Ned! I think Grandma was about to drive us all stir crazy. Either that, or Gordon might have tried to use the lawn mower again."

"Oh?" Ned asked around a mouthful of jam and pastry. "Not the Squid's thing?"

"He nearly cut his fingers off the last time."

"How'd he nearly do that? Any decent lawn mower has a cut-off switch." Hmm, of course. Gardening was Ned's comfort zone, you could hear that, just as space and communications were his.

"And any decent person using a lawn mower doesn't usually try running with it to get it done sooner."

"Ah, rushes, I see. I thought that was more the Hot-Shot Kid?"

"No. Alan's actually tempered. Scott rushes."

"That's your big brother?" Ned had spent enough time around them all to know them, but it had been a while, and (as John had learnt) Ned tended to go by his nicknames for them, as opposed to their given names.

"The one and only."

"The one I threw Iridium at?"

"Yeah… maybe don't bring that up. Scott's still a little bitter."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Oh, no. He knows that, Ned. It's not about the fact you threw it at him- well, sort of, more the fact the have better aim that him."

"Oh! It's nice to know I can do something."

"Speaking of, when could you next visit the Island? Grandma's been on about some kind of trellis? And Virgil is really interested in Topiary. He's trying to keep that a secret, but umm... he still forgets EOS can still read their search history."

'Forget' might be exaggeration of the truth. Gordon had found out after EOS had told John something she'd found without actually telling him how she knew. Alright, you could argue that John should have asked, but he hadn't. When he'd then mentioned it, Gordon had brightly put two and two together. John had promised to make EOS stop. But she didn't and John didn't actually mind. It had given him a great idea for what to get Alan for his 21st.

"I am very good at that now, John. Undetectable."

Ned chuckled. "Is there anything she isn't good at?"

"Probably not."

"I have multiple functions. I am a rescue assistant, a de-bugger, a computer hacker-"

"Ok, EOS, that's probably enough."

"Oi, you plotting to take over the world or something?"

"If I was Ned, I'd let you know. We'd need a few more flowers to brighten everything up out there."

"Oh, we could do that." Ned actually sounded quite excited at the prospect of being part of a world domination plan. "Couldn't we Gladys?"

Another imaginary 'yes' pause. Well, that time John actually thought he heard something. He briefly shook his head at EOS who gave a little flicker of mischievous purple. Great. She was working on a voice program for a pot plant. The world didn't need him gaining an army of talking plants. And he probably shouldn't think of that. EOS had a strange way now of working out what he was thinking.

"Biscuit?"

Ned offered another plate his way.

As if John would say no. For once, this was good homemade stuff, nothing like what Grandma conjured. It was a shame their Granddad's grand cooking abilities never rubbed off – and that the man was a little too shy to tell his wife she couldn't bloody cook.

This, was actually quite a good way to spend an afternoon. It was like having a butler. A little like Parker. Hmm. John loved his own space, but maybe that wasn't too bad an idea. And EOS would have Gladys for company. Gladys who she could give voice too. Yes, maybe that was an idea worth entertaining. He'd make sure to put it on their discussion list for later.

After a bit of looking at the calendar – which for them of course, could mean nothing in a second's notice – plans had been made, back-up plans had been made, and a final resort back-up was steadily waiting in the wings. Just in case the world decided to fall into utter chaos on all the prior days. John was nothing if not prepared for most – if not all – scenarios.

And with all this sorted, they moved on their discussion.

"So what's been happening with International Rescue whilst I've been away doing me worldwide gardening?"

"We've had a pretty run of the mill time of it. Minor volcano incident, hurricane, little rockfall - did more damage to property than people. Oh, we did go to The Mechanic's new Zero-X2 launch."

"Oh the scary bad-turned-good guy that took me into space in the vault?"

"Yes."

Ned nodded, like that whole trip had been washed through the crystal blue waters under the bridges of forgiveness.

"How was it?"

"Absolute success. Brains was ranting for days."

"Good that, isn't it, Gladys?"

It was at this point that Ned lifted Gladys from her comfy place of residence to take hold of her once more.

John couldn't comprehend how he hadn't noticed it; well of course he could, there had been EOS, and Ned, and Gladys, and cups of tea and Battenbergs, with biscuits and jam tarts – all homemade – and it had been a little like the days they'd spent at Lady Penelope's as children under Parker's supervision. Parker had claimed to not be very good with children and to have absolutely no experience whatsoever. John smiled wryly at that. Yeah right. Give children sweet treats and they will bend to your instructions. Not to mention that all the while they sat on the comfy sofas - munching and trying not to leave crumbs – Parker would be demonstrating his excellent array of 'magic' tricks. It was only when Gordon asked for a go that Scott had realised what Parker had actually been meaning to teach them.

Anyhow, Gladys had been resting on a communication switch. Ned noticed this too as he clutched the pot close to him. He stil expected to be shouted at, like his days back in the GDF, or admonished by his employers, like his days back in Hydrexler, or left stranded and alone, like his days back asteroid mining. He was human. John could recognise. If he was completely honest, that was more his reasoning for proposing to Colonel Casey an offer he knew Ned would never refuse; that, more than the fact getting a gardener would save them and appease Grandma.

Of all the people they'd rescued, Ned had grown on him. No puns intended.

"Oh… Sorry?"

"It's fine, Ned. If it was anything serious Thunderbird Three would be outside."

John may have turned his back, but he could tell Ned was looking desperately around outside for any sight of the Thunderbirds. Ned had had a rare opportunity to see them all now, and yet still gazed upon like he'd never seen sight of them.

John could understand that.

Scott appeared before him, looking like he was trying to hide his great relief.

John hid a smile.

And tried to appease his brother's worry at the same time as Ned offering him another cup of absolutely fantastic tea.

Obscuring a teacup on holo-communications wasn't easy.

But he was going to damn well try his best.

He knew what would happen if his brother's caught sight of edible food.

---------

"I did leave a message."

"And I got it." Explained Virgil, sitting down comfortably on the sofa. "It said you were having afternoon tea with the queen."

"Umm… no." John replied. "That's not what is should have said. EOS?"

"I sent what you told me too, John."

"I never the Queen, EOS."

"But Gladys likes to think of herself as a Queen of the Geranium's."

"Too right she is!" Ned exclaimed, merrily, still holding Gladys in his grasp.

For a moment, there was absolute silence from the island.

Scott no longer knew whether he was dreaming, in the middle of a nightmare, or maybe I he had been slipped the odd set of drugs.

There, sharing the holo-screen with John, was Ned Tedford and Gladys.

"You're having afternoon tea with Ned and Gladys?" Gordon exclaimed.

"Yeah." John answered, like it was a normality. "Ned wanted to see Thunderbird Five."

"I really like it. Especially the floaty floatiness."

"John, I still cannot find that word in the dictionary."

"It doesn't matter EOS."

Alan was just a mess of chuckles. In fact, Scott was surprised there was anything left of him save the sound.

And of course, it was – as things usually were for the Tracy's – at this moment that Ned raised a plate full of neatly sliced cake. John would have liked to have finished the explanations first, and kept the whole Ned being here thing a secret. Especially as they'd been planning a great surprise for Virgil's birthday. John still vowed to make up for the one which the middle child essentially 'missed' which he still felt a little at fault for. This would top that ruined surprise in seconds. As it was, John had learnt that Ned was good at keeping secrets, so there wouldn't be any worries there. The problem was how to deal with now.

Now being the very obvious sight of cake.

The harm was already done, so John reached out a took a piece.

"Thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome."

"What?" Alan bellowed, narrowly avoiding taking Scott's ears clean off, "You have cake?"

"Homemade and all." Ned added, somehow managing to balance a numerous amount of plates in his grasp, with one balancing on Gladys as well. EOS' little lights brightened, and John sighed at her forming even more grand ideas. Gladys was not proving the greatest of influences on his AI, and John felt an understanding for the struggles of their father when the boys went out into the world, forming their own friendships.

Eyes were glimmering back at them.

"You-"

"Have-"

"Cake!"

John wasn't sure what happened first really. In seconds, Virgil, Gordon and Alan were on their feet.

"Hello Ned!" Gordon waved.

"We're on our way up."

Alan was rushing around like a mad thing.

"To Thunderbird Three!"

"You mean to the cake!" Gordon insisted, following the youngest at a speed that rivalled a sports car.

"Scott, are you coming with?"

Virgil was waiting, looking at the brunette expectantly.

Scott wanted to say no. He wanted to go bad to bed and sleep, because clearly he needed it. His head still wasn't entirely wrapped around the fact that EOS could apparently talk to Gladys and that the pot plant liked to be thought of as a Queen, nor why Ned was waving at them from Thunderbird Five whilst pouring cups of tea and sharing biscuits with John like he'd lived up there for years now. He was entirely lost as to where the real Queen fitted in, he'd honestly forgotten his true reason for even trying to call John – which got him involved in all this madness in the first place, and everyone rushing around and shouting was doing nothing for his head.

But there was cake. Homemade cake, that – most importantly – didn't look like it would poison them.

John couldn't really eat it all. They were only looking out for his health by going up there to help finish it, Scott supposed.

Some second wind had him off his feet in seconds.

"See you in a bit, John."

Virgil gave a little cheer and some kind of funny-step-dance that wasn't really a dance, which John desperately hoped EOS had been recording. She recorded everything on the Island now. Even Gordon's singing the in the shower. John had questioned why, slightly unsure as to whether it was even a good idea to be doing so, only for EOS to play him a section – audio only, thank whatever God there was. Gordon was surprisingly good. No, not good actually. Pretty good. Now one could hold a tune quite like Virgil could, but John was surprised to find that Gordon had a talent he wasn't boasting about. He'd asked – slightly more wisely – why EOS was even keeping that. Her pointed answer was exactly what he should have expected. Blackmail material. John had wondered then if he should have let EOS get her claws on the World Wide Web. She edited Wikipedia enough as it was.

Still, as his brothers left his sights, heading to warm up Thunderbird Three, John waved a hand to EOS who closed the link. He rolled his eyes as he turned back to Ned. It wouldn't be long before his brothers joined them, shattering the peace and quiet of Thunderbird Five, stomping rudely over proper afternoon tea. John sometimes wondered how Lady Penelope put up with Gordon making all the mess he did when he stayed in London. Parker. That one was obvious. The man spent more time running around Gordon to keep everything in order than he did shadowing Lady Penelope for her own safety.

Their quiet afternoon was dead in the water. A very new one was about to begin.

"Sorry Ned. It will get noisy now, and busy, and… crazy."

He wasn't going to hold back. Ned knew them well enough after all.

"Oh that's alright. Gladys and I wondered if we might be seeing everyone, so I've bought plenty of everything. A gardener is always prepared!"

Far more prepared it seemed than the man had been in any other job.

John glanced over towards the two unopened boxes. If they contained anything like the feat that was currently placed before them, they would be absolutely fine. Ned was finally right where he was meant to be.

And John supposed he should have asked why Ned had bought a full set of teacups.

Always prepared, those gardening types.

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