#they’re meant to be in front of a fire place btw

[seagull-scribbles]

Christmas gift for @naivesilver ! Sometimes we burn ourselves out or are constantly working on self improvement, but we can still enjoy a nice hot chocolate and some chill time xx ILY my dude

[theshelbyclan]

Atonement

Summary: Teddy’s still angry with Tommy and he has no idea how to fix things. But when a ghost from their past shows up at their doorstep, they’re drawn to each other at once (part 9)

A/N: Teddy’s gone through enough I thought, so I wanted to do a bit more of a fluffy chapter. Still, with Arthur Shelby sr. showing up, it’s a hard one and abuse is mentioned. I loved writing a more soft and small Teddy btw, sometimes even I forget she’s still so young because she acts so strong at times… Anyways, this takes place during episode 5 of season 1. Enjoy! Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Words: 3313 *** “Teddy, you go home to Finn.” “No! I want to stay with Ada, besides she told me she wanted me to be there!” Teddy protested. After the wedding, as soon as Ada’s waters had broken, everything had happened very quickly. The entire family had piled themselves into two cars and, swaying across the roads, made their way home. 

When they got out, Tommy had asked John about his new car, to which Polly had responded with some annoyance, “Your sister’s in there giving birth and you’re talking about the bloody car.” After that she’d told Teddy to go home by which she meant Uncle Charlie’s yard, because that was where Finn was currently spending the night after the wedding.

“Teddy, listen to your aunt,” Tommy said in a low voice, but Teddy still hadn’t quite forgiven him, so she pretended he was air. “When did she tell you?” Aunt Polly asked, to test her for the truth. “When she came back to Birmingham, when she and Freddie were on the narrow boat, early in the morning. Because I didn’t get to wear my dress.” So she beckoned Teddy, “Fine, get inside.” Tommy stood back and worried slightly for both his sisters now. Oh, this wasn’t the first time Teddy was angry with him, not by a long shot, but it was the first time she kept it up for so long. Just once, after he’d been forced to put down Teddy’s pony because of an illness, she hadn’t talked to him for a week. And it had been the longest week of his life.

As he pondered, he said, “Not much us men can do now, Pol.” And he turned around to make his way to the Garrison.

But his aunt wasn’t about to let him go so easily, “There’s one man that should be here.” “You’re right, Pol, Freddie should be here.” It was like Polly’s eyes were about to fall out of her skull, “Is that a heartbeat I hear inside that chest?” Tommy shrugged, “You told me to remember how it felt, right?” Then he added, more like his old self again, “Truce lasts ‘till sunrise, on my oath!”

Inside, Teddy was already by Ada’s side, as Polly ran in to tell Ada the good news. All night, she was in labour and when the baby turned out to be breech, Esme managed to turn it. Teddy thought more highly of her by the second. Finally, a perfect baby boy was born and his youngest aunt absolutely beamed with pride. There came a knock on the door and seconds later, Freddie burst in. When he saw Ada with his child, he fell still, hands to his mouth in awe. Ada told him, “It’s a boy,” and Freddie could only whisper, “It’s a beautiful baby boy…” He held his son ever so gently and told him, “Welcome to the world, son.” But then chaos ensued. Another knock on the door came, less gentle, and immediately after, police officers marched in. They went for Freddie at once, but Esme tried to stop them, shouting, “You can’t come in here, there’s a baby just been born!” Clawing at the officers, she did everything she could to hold them back, but it didn’t work. Teddy positioned herself in front of Ada and when the men tried to make a grab for Freddie, she took the poker from the fire and hit one of them with it. Without any reservation, one of the policemen struck Teddy across the face, hard, and she fell backwards. Polly, meanwhile, tried to shield Ada now and soothe her as they took Freddie. She knew they couldn’t fight the police now and her concern was with the new mother and child. Then she checked on Teddy, who was fine, or so she kept on saying, apart from the big purple handprint now taking shape on her cheek. After telling Esme to take her to bed, Polly rushed off to the Garrison, obviously intend on killing Tommy herself.

*** When Teddy woke up, the sun was flooding in through her open window. It was the middle of the day, she realised, which must mean she’d slept for hours. The wedding had exhausted her and the birth of little Karl even more. But the overwhelming feeling she felt when waking up was that of concern, over Freddie Thorne and of course her sister. Was this what Zilpha Lee was referring to when she’d said Tommy planned to betray a man? Silently, she got out of bed. That’s when she saw Finn sitting in the chair next to their bed. “What are you doing?” Teddy asked. “Waiting.” “For what?” “For you to wake up!” he called out, “You were gone for three fucking days, Teddy, and I was worried sick!” “No I wasn’t, I was with the Lees…” “BUT YOU DIDN’T FUCKING TELL ME, DID YOU!” Finn got so upset now that he almost started to cry, and he continued, “We thought Campbell had taken you and that he had drowned you or whatever and I thought I’d never see you again!” Teddy had no idea how to respond, so instead she just moved forward and tried to hug Finn, but the eleven-year-old pushed her away. This confused her even more, because usually he was more the hugging type than she was. So instead she just stood there, staring at her feet and feeling genuinely bad for upsetting her brother like this. “Finn…” she tried again. But he interrupted her, “Aunt Polly wants you to come with her anyways. She says she can’t get Ada to open the door, because she’s locked herself away from Tommy and won’t eat, and Aunt Polly thinks maybe you can get her to change her mind.”

“Oh,” Teddy said, still not moving. She was quite certain that she wouldn’t be able to make Ada budge either. Once she’d made up her mind, there wasn’t anything anyone could do. Angrily, Finn wiped away some tears, “Well, go on! She’s waiting for you.” Teddy walked over to the door, not knowing what to do otherwise, but then changed her mind. She ran towards Finn and hugged him anyway, before he could stop her, “I’m really, really, reallysorry, Finn. I was angry and sad and I didn’t think anyone would miss me or even cared that I was sad…” “I did,” he emphasized, obviously still hurt, “and I knew about the dress.”

“I know, I even told Aunt Polly when I said I hated everyone, but not you. I wanted to keep you,” Teddy rattled on. “Thank you?” “I’ll make it up to you,” Teddy promised, “I swear. I’ll find a way.” Finn pushed his little sister off him and grumbled, “Don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t, and if I do, I’ll tell you where,” she promised. “And I’ll come with you,” he vowed. And all was well again between the two youngest Shelby siblings.

***

Later in the day, Teddy was down in the kitchen, with a steak pressed against her cheek on Arthur’s orders, to maybe slim down the bruise forming a little bit. Aunt Polly had tried visiting Ada again, but to no avail. Angrily, she stomped up and down the kitchen. Teddy thought it best not to talk to her, but when Tommy showed up, he did. He asked, “Did you speak to her?” He looked like a little boy in trouble, leaning up against the wall, waiting for the verdict. “She didn’t speak back,” Aunt Polly bit. “Well, did you tell her?” She side-eyed him, “I’ll only tell her what I know to be true.” He started smoking in an annoyed manner, “This is the last time I’m going to say this: it wasn’t me who shopped Freddie Thorne!” “Tommy, I’d ask you to swear on the Bible, but you can’t swear on that, can you? Nothing you hold sacred.” And with that, she left the kitchen again, which meant Teddy was now alone with Tommy. Full of indignation, he sighed and threw his cigarette out the open window.

Then he looked at Teddy, big eyes, “Do you think I handed Freddie over?” “Why do you care what I think?” Teddy huffed, “You never listen to me anyways.” “Fucking hell,” he sighed. And she continued, “But Zilpha Lee told me that you planned on betraying someone.” “Zilpha fucking Lee told you, eh?” Tommy replied darkly, “Well, if you trust the Lees so much, why don’t you fucking go live with them.” And he stomped out of the kitchen, leaving Teddy on her own with the steak pressed against your cheek. But almost the very second he’d left her, Tommy felt like an idiot. He hated how his frustration had gotten the better of him and, most of all, how he always seemed to vent his anger towards his baby sister. For a moment he contemplated going back inside to talk to her, but in the end, he decided he had bigger things to worry about. So, he went to the Garrison and talked to Grace. He put a black star in the book and felt sorry for himself, as he said, “Everyone in my family hates me.” But he got no sympathy there. ***

Arthur came home, head bowed and the most careful smile on his face. It was like he’d done something that wasn’t allowed, and that was how Polly was looking at him as well. John was quickly called to the scene and even Finn had come down out of sheer curiosity. Teddy was the last one to enter the house again. At the head of the table, she saw a man sitting there whom she’d never seen before. He looked dark and angry. And when he spoke, a thick accent came through that was somehow familiar to Teddy, but she couldn’t place it. She did however feel John and Polly’s anger practically vibrating in the air. Like he was meant to be there, he sat at the table that he somehow seemed to own. Arthur brought him bread and the stranger started to pray. But at once, Polly sighed theatrically and started cursing. “Please, woman, not in vain,” he chastised. Teddy watched all of this from the shadows of the little hallway. That’s the one advantage of being a ten-year-old girl: you’re no longer small, but by no means grown either, which makes you absolutely invisible if wanted. “Finish your sandwich and sling your hook,” her aunt snapped, but even this didn’t work, because all he said was, “Pollyanna, I’m a guest of the head of this family.” He was motioning to Arthur and Teddy frowned. He continued, “So why don’t you tend to your mangle or your spurtle.” And this caused Teddy to step forward, because no one spoke like that to her aunt. John said, “The head of the family ain’t here,” just as Teddy stepped out of the shadows. Arthur mumbled something along the lines of, “Tommy, uh, he sometimes helps me with, uh, with business, dad.” Dad? Teddy froze. It’s like the word hurt her, like it stung, and it left her breathless. And then the strange man, who may have been her father but wasn’t her dad by any means, noticed her. He looked her up and down, as if he was wondering if Teddy was one of his’ as well, and then smiled. Like he could own her as well. “Theodora,” he said softly, “I presume?” “Teddy,” John snapped, “Her name’s Teddy.” Arthur Shelby sr. laughed without humour, “Teddy’s no name for a girl.” He walked over to her and before she could stop him, he’d picked her up, “But you are a Shelby and no mistake, aren’t you, little lady.” Immediately, Teddy tried to wrestle free from his grip, but that only made him tighten his hold. That’s when she started to become frightened. Her father grabbed her face and forced her to look at him, “Behave. Show some respect to your father, girl.” She didn’t want to and everything in her revolted, but she was scared too, so even though she hated it, Teddy started to cry. He told her coldly, “Crying will get you nowhere, Theodora.” “Teddy,” she whimpered, still angry but mainly fearful, “Tommy named me Teddy.” That’s when Tommy walked in and without looking at his father, who mumbled, “Speaking of the devil…” He immediately lifted Teddy out of his father’s arms. His hands were strong and certain, battling Arthur senior’s grasp, but still so much softer and safer than his. Tommy looked at Teddy and wiped away her tears. Quietly, he whispered, “You’re alright, eh?”

Arthur Shelby laughed meanly at the gesture and decided to ignore his daughter, saying, “How are you, son?” But Tommy became hard again, distant and sounded numb, “Get out.” “Come on, son, I’m a changed man.” Teddy looked to her brother, who now had her securely placed on his hip. He looked defeated somehow, smaller, but absolutely certain. His shoulders were slumped and it looked like he’d just been beaten with a stick, only Teddy knew that didn’t happen. Without emotion, he said, “This family needed you ten years ago and you walked out on us. Not now. Get out of this house.” “He’s different, Tommy,” Arthur tried to defend his father, like he’d never done anything else. But Tommy practically spit, without even glancing at his brother, “You shut up.” Teddy cringed at the words and made herself as small as she possibly could in Tommy’s arms.

“I just wanted to see my sons, and my beautiful baby daughter,” Arthur senior tried, as if he’d ever even cared about his daughters. His sons were only prestige to him, but his daughters were quickly forgotten. “If you’re so interested in your daughters,” Polly asked pointedly, “Why haven’t you asked about Ada?” But again, he ignored his sister. Arthur tried to take up for him again but was stopped. “It’s alright, son,” their father falsely soothed, “Arthur Shelby never stays where he’s not welcome.” And then he shot Tommy a look that Teddy didn’t quite understand, but it absolutely terrified her, “Quite something you’ve become.” And there is was again, like he owned the place, owned the boy and owned all the space he was taking up. Teddy looked at Tommy again and saw it in his face too: fear. The creature from all of their nightmares had returned and this was the shape he’d taken. So, Teddy hid in her brother’s arms. Through his fingers, she saw her father ruffling Finn’s hair. Somehow, Finn didn’t seem afraid, but only curious. Maybe he didn’t feel what Teddy felt in that moment. Maybe he hadn’t listened to the tone with which they spoke of him or paid attention to the fact that they hardly spoke of him at all. Maybe he didn’t take Polly’s looks of fury as a sign to back away, slowly but surely. But when he looked back to watch him leave, John pulled him back roughly, as if to tell him: Don’t do it. Don’t look back at him. Look forward. Look at who’s head of the family now.

Again, Arthur was the one to try and smooth things over, by saying, “He’s our dad.” “He’s a selfish bastard,” Tommy whispered. This seemed to break Arthur, so torn in his loyalties, and he’d suddenly found the courage to stand up to his brother, “That’s a bit rich, Tommy. I mean, thanks to you, we’re already down a bloody sister.” “You want to see him, Arthur?” Tommy pointed at the door impatiently, “You want to see him? You go with him.” And Arthur got up to leave.

Silence fell over the kitchen. Teddy looked at Tommy, who was still only a shell of himself, and started to cry again. But she didn’t want him to notice, so she chewed her sleeve and tried to bite her tongue, as the tears fell down her cheeks silently. John mumbled something about the bastard being gone, so he could go back to work, and Finn followed him like a puppy, not really understanding but looking to the others for guidance. Polly left with an irritated huff soon after. Tommy took a few deep breaths and then looked at Teddy. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. The kitchen still seemed like his father’s ghost was present. So he waited a little longer, let Teddy cry and eventually cradled her head as she let it fall on his shoulder. A few moments later, Teddy finally asked, “Is he coming back, Tommy?” “No.” “How do you know?” “I won’t let him,” he sounded hard again, “He’s not welcome in this fucking house.” “He scares me, Tommy,” she whimpered.

Tommy nodded slowly and confessed, “Me too.”

Then he sat down with his little sister still on his lap and decided he had to make things right. If he didn’t want to become like his father, so cold and calculating, so unfeeling and mean, he at least had to be able to fix things with his sister, who used to look up to him so much. “You cry,” he told her, thinking of how their father never allowed them to show any weakness, “It’s alright to cry, eh?” And then he thought of all the abuse and he lowered his voice to a whisper, “I’m here now and I won’t leave you again. I won’t yell at you and I won’t abandon you, you hear me?” Memories of the beatings and pain flashed through his mind and he hugged Teddy as close to him as he could. It was as though something inside of Teddy finally opened up. She cried and cried and cried, mainly because she’d been so sick of fighting with Tommy, sick of being tough all the time and sick of feeling lonely. Here, right here, in her brother’s arms, was where she wanted to be forever. “I sometimes forget,” he mused, “you’re still so little. It’s my job to protect you and to keep an eye on you, but I fucked up, Teddy. You’re so wild and I got scared, I got so fucking scared, so I yelled at you and punished you, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just...you. I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, Teddy.” Teddy listened to everything he said and nodded a little, not quite knowing how to react to this. Most of all, she didn’t want the hug to end just yet. But she did ask, “Why is he here? Dad, I mean. What does he want?” “Fuck if I know,” Tommy sighed, “What makes you think he wants anything?” “Because he’s trying to win over Arthur,” Teddy reasoned out loud, “And Arthur wants to do everything for him because he’s dad and he still cares. So if he wants something, he should try Arthur, because otherwise it won’t work.” Tommy laughed a little and Teddy looked up with an insulted look on her face, saying, “Don’t laugh at me!” “I’m not! I keep forgetting,” and he waved a hand around in that way of him, “you observe people. When you don’t speak, that’s when you’re most dangerous, you. You look and observe and then draw your own conclusions, and you’re usually fucking right.” He smiled again and Teddy couldn’t help but smile back. They sat in silence again for a little while, until Teddy asked, “Did you mean it, Tommy? About being sorry?” “Yes,” he lit a cigarette, “I’ve been too hard on you.” “Yeah…” Teddy agreed.

Tommy looked down at her with some mirth in his eyes, “You’ve been hard on me too, you know.” “Good,” Teddy said cheekily, almost like her old self again, “Then we’re even.” “I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart.” “How?” “I’ll be your big brother.” And that was all Teddy wanted to hear. *** Masterlist

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Evil Scar on 3rd life? I really like your writing btw

3rd Life rly is just a place for people to have villain arcs lmfao /hj also thank you, i’m so glad you enjoy my stuff :D

(just a reminder: do not tag this or any of my work as shipping of any kind)

…

  “Mrrow.”

  Etho chuckles and leans on his pickaxe as his cat, named Pineapple Pizza, sits down on the staircase behind him, looking up at him. “Heyo. What can I do for you? You hungry?”

  Pineapple meows again in response.

  “Okay, then. Let’s get you some fish.”

  Seemingly delighted with his response, Pineapple jumps up onto Etho’s shoulders and curls herself round the back of his neck. Etho grins and tickles her under the chin as he goes back up the stairs of his mine and emerges back in the swamp. His wool bridge stands proud through the middle of the swampy water, looking rather good for a build made of white wool. 

  Etho roots around in his chest for some fish, but by the time he finds some, he realises that Pineapple has jumped down from his shoulders. Glancing around, he spots a figure moving around in the trees and heads over to investigate.

  As he approaches, Scar emerges from behind the tree and spots him. “Ah, Etho! Good to see you.”

  Etho blinks, acutely aware of the red heart on Scar’s neck. “Hi, Scar,” he says warily, but still with a friendly tone. “What can I do for you?”

  “Oh, I was just in the neighbourhood and I-.”

  “Meow.”

  Scar breaks off as Pineapple appears between them, sitting down and starting to lick her paw.

  “Is this your cat?” Scar asks, bending down and picking Pineapple up. 

  Etho starts to reach for his cat but stops, as if afraid of spooking a wild animal. “Uh, yes. Yes, that’s Pineapple Pizza, Piney for short. Scar, could you, um… Sorry, but would you mind not picking her up? She doesn’t like being held by anyone who isn’t me.”

  “But she’s so cute.” Scar strokes the top of Pineapple’s head. “I’ve been looking for a cat, you know. Haven’t seen any Jellies on this server so I guess this one’ll have to do.”

  As Etho stares at him in shock, Scar turns and walks out onto the bridge. Etho falls into step beside him. “Scar, please,” he pleads. “She’s my cat. I can help you find one of your own, but-.”

  “No, I like this one. Not only is she adorable but she seems to be in need of a new home.”

  “No, please!” Etho’s voice rises. “Scar, please don’t take her from me! Please!”

  Scar steps back, still holding Pineapple in his arms. “I’d stay back from me, if I were you. Otherwise you might lose more than just your cat and your extremely flammable bridge.”

  “Wh-.”

  Before Impulse even finishes his word, Scar turns and strikes his flint and steel, setting the wool bridge on fire. 

  “NO!” Etho screeches.

  He charges forwards and attempts to stamp out the fire but it’s already spreading, and all he succeeds in doing is burning his leg. Stumbling backwards, Etho realises quickly that his bridge is a lost cause. As the flames explode outwards, all he can do is dive over the edge into the swampy water. 

  He swims to safety and climbs out onto the shore. By the time he turns around, his entire bridge is alight. Abandoning it, he dashes down the swampy banks, searching wildly for any sign of Scar. 

  But his former friend is long gone, along with his beloved cat. 

…

  As the sun rises, Etho sits on top of the hill with his knees drawn into his chest, gazing numbly down at where his bridge used to be. All that’s left is two blocks of wool and some fences. He’s shed so many tears tonight that he has nothing left in him. 

  Everything he loves is gone. His tree, his bridge, and even his beloved cat. He has nothing now. Nothing. 

  “Etho!” comes Tango’s call from somewhere to his left. “Etho, where are you?” 

  Etho doesn’t respond. 

  After a moment, Tango and Impulse emerge from the forest and discover him sitting on the edge of the hill. Neither of them speak; they’ve already heard what happened. News and gossip travels fast on the server. 

  They sit down on either side of him, neither of them entirely sure what to say. 

  “How you holding up, buddy?” Impulse asks eventually. 

  Etho closes his eyes briefly, releasing one stray tear he didn’t know was there. “Why does Scar hate me?” he whispers. 

  Tango and Impulse exchange a sympathetic look. 

  “He doesn’t hate you,” Tango begins. “He…” 

  “He burned down my tree and my bridge, and took my cat away from me. I must have done something to make him hate me.” 

  “No, buddy.” Impulse puts his arm over Etho’s shoulder. “Scar is… He’s… different than how he used to be. This server has changed him, and I guess it’s changed all of us. Just… him in a different way.”

  After a moment, Etho stands up, shaking Impulse’s arm off his shoulder. 

  Tango and Impulse also simultaneously rise to their feet. “Are you gonna be okay?” Tango asks. 

  Etho takes his gloves out of his pocket and puts them on. “Eventually.”

  “Not sure I like that answer. Etho, don’t push us away, okay? We’ll help you out, we’ll support you. Anything you need.”

  “Yeah,” adds Impulse. “Anything.” 

  “Alright, I appreciate that. I think I just need to be left alone for a while.”

  Exchanging another look, Tango and Impulse reluctantly nod. “Okay,” says the former. “You know where we are if you need us.”

  Etho waits until they’re out of sight before climbing into his boat and taking off across the swamp. He has somewhere to be.

…

  Etho climbs the sandy hill and stands a safe distance away from the small castle at the top. “Scar!” he calls. “Scar, come here!”

  He spots Grian dithering just inside the entrance of the house, but before he can call to him, Scar brushes past him and stands in front of him, crossing his arms. “What do you want, Etho?”

  “I want my cat back,” Etho responds steadily. “You’ve now burned down two things that meant a lot to me and I couldn’t stop you, so I’m here to fight for the only thing I have left. If you don’t give her back to me, I WILL resort to violence.” 

  Grian glances sharply at Scar. “That black cat is Etho’s?” 

  Scar shrugs. “So what if it is? He’s not gonna do anything about it. The rules say that PvP can only begin if a red lifer initiates it. And if I do initiate violence, I promise you, you won’t last long enough to strike me back.” 

  Etho’s narrowed eyes flicker to Grian, who reluctantly nods. “He’s right. If Scar strikes first, you’re allowed to strike back. But if he doesn’t, you can’t legally touch him.”

  Etho curls his hands into fists. “Why are you doing this, Scar? First my tree, then my cat, then my bridge. Why do you delight in taking away everything I care about?”

  “You have no idea how delicious it is to take things from people and watch as they slowly come to realise they can’t do a single thing about it,” replies Scar, grinning maliciously. “Maybe if you had a red heart like me, you’d understand.”

  “You get how being on red isn’t a GOOD thing, right?” Grian says warily from behind him. “One more death and you’re gone. And Etho could kill you right now, you know. He’d be breaking the rules, but that wouldn’t bring you back from the dead.” 

  “You shut up, Grian,” snarls Scar. “I didn’t ask for your input.”

  Grian flinches and turns away. 

  Seeing his friend mistreated like that pushes Etho over the edge. Grian is clearly scared of Scar. There’s no reason for him to be, unless Scar isn’t exactly his friend anymore. 

  Etho grabs Scar’s lapels and shoves him against the wall. Before Scar can even make a noise, Etho shoves his face close to Scar’s and snarls, “WHERE. IS. MY. CAT.”

  “I-I put her upstairs in the bedroom,” yelps Scar. “G-Grian, save me! Don’t let him kill me!”

  “I’m not gonna kill you.” 

  Etho shoves Scar aside and barges into the building. Grian wordlessly leads him upstairs to the room in question, where Etho finds Pineapple curled up on the bed. “Piney!”

  She opens her eyes and, upon spotting him, jumps down from the bed and circles his feet, rubbing her head against his ankles. 

  Etho almost cries with relief. “Oh, Piney… I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  He picks up Pineapple and lets her lie across his shoulders, before turning to Grian. “You don’t have to stay with him anymore, Grian. I know you said you owe him your first life, but just look at yourself. You’re miserable here with him. Scar’s turned into a bully, and you’re the person he targets when there’s nobody else around. You don’t have to live like this anymore.”

  Grian sighs quietly. “Where would I go? I burned all my bridges when I came here with Scar. And would I even be safe from him?”

  “Come live with me in the swamp,” Etho urges. “I’ll protect you. He may be on his red life but if he strikes one of us, the other can take him down. I’ll make sure if he strikes either of us, it’ll be me. You’ve been through a lot since Scar’s first death; you deserve your freedom.”

  For a moment, Grian doesn’t seem convinced. 

  Then Scar’s voice yells his name from downstairs and Grian again finds himself flinching. 

  This clinches it. He can’t spend the rest of his time on the server doing Scar’s bidding, waiting for either Scar or himself to die. That’s no way to live and he knows it.

  Finally, he nods. “Okay, I’ll come with you. Th-Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  Etho leads the way back downstairs. He finds Scar standing in the doorway, arms crossed again, seemingly having regained his composure. “I heard what you said. Do you really think you can get away with stealing my cat AND my best friend?”

  “She’s not your cat,” snaps Etho.

  “I’m not your best friend!” Grian bursts out at the same time.

  Scar blinks. “Grian, what’d you just say?”

  “You’re not my best friend, Scar! Not anymore. Ever since you lost your first life, you’ve been different. And you’ve only gotten worse since you lost your second. I-I can’t live here with you anymore.” Grian’s voice cracks. “I’m sorry.”

  Scar’s shocked expression quickly turns into a ferocious glare. “Fine, then! Go, both of you. But don’t expect any mercy from me when I’m ready to start killing people. I’ll be coming for you first.”

  Grian freezes.

  Etho takes hold of his wrist and skilfully pulls him past Scar and out of the house. “You’ll be okay, Grian,” he says reassuringly. “I promise.” To Scar, he says a simple, “Goodbye.”

  Scar turns away as Etho and Grian head down the sandy mountain. “Did that really just happen?” Grian says numbly. “Did I really just abandon Scar?”

  “You did,” says Etho warmly, putting his arm over Grian’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  Grian takes a deep breath. It’s the same air, but somehow, it tastes fresher. “Good, I think. You?”

  Etho smiles as he feels Pineapple rub her head against his cheek. For the first time, he hasn’t let Scar get away with taking something he cares about. It feels great. 

  “Never better.”

[coffee-imagines]

Rivals

Pairing:  Harry x Slytherin reader

Requested:  hey! can u do a Harry x slytherin fem!reader from the 71(Angry sex) smut prompt? the ideia its they hating each other in the beginning, but at the end, you know the cliche. and they're friends going "WTF" seeing them together. maybe a little jealous is harry it's good too. sorry if ts too specific, I just had this in mind and couldn't get it off. btw, your writing it's amazing! also, pls tag me if you're doing this one :)

Warnings: smut, angry/jealous sex, unprotected sex, wall sex

A/N: don’t worry, requests can be as specific as you want to make them. I’m glad you think my writing is amazing that means a lot

Summary: A quidditch match reveals sexual tension

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The second you’d met Harry Potter you both hated each other. No one ever knew why, but both of you being from Gryffindor and Slytherin was the only logical reason people could think of. Not even you and Harry knew why, but the only thing you were sure of was the feeling you had when you were around each other. You both got on each other’s nerves, and you were sure you’d go for each other’s throats if you could. You could remember your second year, trading places with Draco to duel with Harry.

This school year had been different, you’d finally gotten a break from being around Harry in all your classes, until he switched to potions. Switching to potions meant he’d be spending almost all day with you. It irked you that Harry was suddenly the best potion maker of your year. It used to be you, and now that you were paired up with the black haired boy you couldn’t help but roll your eyes each time he’d perfected a potion as if it were nothing.

“Potter.” You muttered sitting down next to him

“Y/L/N.” He almost spat, making you glare at him. 

“Making love to your book I see.” You sneered, watching Harry hovered over his book almost protectively.

“Failing to brew a simple potion I see.” Harry fired back making you clench your fist.

“Why so secretive with your book Potter? Love notes from Weasley in there?” You asked, reaching over to grab it from him.

“It’s none of your business what’s in this book.” He explained defensively, pulling the book from your reach making you glare.

The year had gone on just the same, you and Harry bickering like an old married couple in your classes. The longer the year went on the more irritated you became with each other. You seemed to find ways to see each other outside of class, both Gryffindors and Slytherins getting sick of the both of you fighting each other. You’d both lost your houses quite a few points, and you were sure if you’d lost anymore your prefect would have your head.

It had been time for a Quidditch match, and this was when Harry realized just how much the both of you had been idiots. You’d taken Draco’s place as seeker, both of you pushing and shoving each other even when the snitch was nowhere in sight. Something seemed to change in Harry’s actions once the snitch came into view. You knew Harry’s broom moved much faster than yours, but you’d somehow still reached the snitch first, grabbing it with no trouble. 

“Good game.” Harry muttered making you squint your eyes. You weren’t sure if he had been serious, but you nodded in response as a silent ‘you too.’

Your team had you on their shoulders while you held the snitch, the points getting Slytherin in first place for the house cup. You’d seen someone running onto the field, and you were picked up and spun by Draco who praised you about his old position. Harry glared when he saw Draco’s arm wrapped around you and he bit the inside of his cheek. You had the brightest smile on your face, and although it would’ve been contagious to anyone who saw it, Harry felt a sickening feeling twist inside his stomach.

You were making your way nowhere near your common room once you’d changed back into your normal attire. You’d wanted a break from the loud commotion of your team, and a walk through a deserted corridor seemed like the good choice. There was a calming aspect of hearing the click of your shoes as you walked, but the relaxed feeling you had quickly turned to annoyance when you heard a second pair of steps that you’d immediately known the owner of.

“What do you want Harry?” You asked in frustration when you realized he’d been following you. “The direction of your common room is that way.” You explained in a mock explanation giving him a quick glance. “It being your sixth year you’d think you’d know by now.” You sneered, walking a bit quicker.

You gasped when your back hit the wall behind you, Harry caging you in with his hands on either side of your head. Both of you were frozen in place, you from shock, and Harry in disbelief of what he’d done. Your eyes flickered down to his lips before looking back up at his eyes. Harry had been doing the same, your eyes locking with one another. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and it had taken everything in you not to lean forward. Harry had other plans, almost smashing his lips against yours in a rough kiss. 

You hadn’t kissed back at first, too shocked that you were kissing Harry to react. When Harry’s hands held your hips in place a chill went up your spine making you hum and start moving your lips against his. Your hands came up to play with his hair, giving it a small tug earning a groan from Harry. A small gasp left your lips, Harry’s groan making a wetness pool in between your legs. You both pulled away breathing heavily, your hands roaming each other’s bodies, Harry’s touch making you stiffen when you moaned. You froze, an embarrassed blush making its way onto your face, but it only earned a smirk from Harry.

“I bet Draco couldn’t do this to you.” Harry growled in your ear making you shudder, your legs squeezing closed around his hand. 

“Why do you care, Potter? Jealous?” You taunted, trying to hide the obvious arousal you’d been feeling, but Harry could see the lust that filled your eyes.

“Pretty cocky coming from the girl who’s already soaking her underwear.” He whispered against your lips making you whimper, feeling pressure being applied to your clit through the fabric. You couldn’t think straight, Harry’s lips meeting your neck making you bite your lip to keep quiet.

“Harry.” You breathed out, his lips sucking your sweet spot making your head hit the wall.

“We’re on a first name basis now?” Harry smirked, watching your eyes flutter closed.

“Oh Merlin.” You seethed through your teeth when you felt Harry harshly run his teeth against your skin. 

“I have to mark what’s mine don’t I?” Harry asked, and the words seemed to make you ache between your legs. “I’m the only one that makes you get like this. Don’t I Y/N?” Harry teased, the tip of his finger slipping into you with no warning making you shudder and bite back a moan. 

“N-no.” You shook your head. Maybe you were lying, but you’d never let him know that. “I’ve had better.” You challenged, finally finding the confidence you’d had the past six years. 

“We’ll see about that.” Harry growled, all but ripping your robes and bottoms off so you were naked from the waist down. You watched in shock, your eyes glued to Harry’s hands, watching him undo his pants.

“Oh.” The word accidentally slipped from your mouth when you took in how hard and big Harry had gotten.

“Oh?” Harry mocked, grabbing your hand making you wrap your fingers around him. “See what you do to me?” He taunted you and widened your eyes.

“I… Harry.” You whimpered out when he guided your hand to pump him slowly, the thought and almost need to feel him inside you filling your mind.

Before you could say anything else you were turned around, your nose brushing against the wall. Harry kissed, sucked, and nipped at all the exposed skin he could access, humming at the whimpers that were coming from you. He’d pushed against you making you moan when his tip started teasing your folds. Both of you were too stubborn to make the first move, Harry continuing to tease while you stayed and took anything he was giving you, trying to stop yourself from grinding back against him.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Harry groaned into your ear, and this pushed you over the edge, your hips pushing back into him with a small roll making both of you groan.

“Oh… Harry that… that feels...” You tried to say when he slipped all the way in but your voice was betraying you. 

You rested your forehead against the wall, your walls already clenching around Harry making him moan your name from behind you. You’d never felt that good, and you didn’t think you could get enough. You wished you were facing him, wanting nothing more than to pull him closer to you. He picked up his pace, thrusting faster making your legs shake under you. Nothing but moans were coming from the both of you, Harry’s name falling from your lips endlessly.

“Who makes you feel this good?” Harry groaned out, his hips only moving faster and harder.

“H-harry.” You whimpered, your nails clawing at the wall in front of you.

“Who?” Harry almost boasted already knowing the answer.

“You! You do.” You cried out, your eyes screwed shut as Harry continued to pound into you.

“Cum for me.” Harry whispered in your ear, his hands slipping over yours and squeezing them slightly when his thrusts started to become sloppy.You didn’t need to be told twice, already shaking when your orgasm washed over you, Harry following only a second behind you. “Y/N.” Harry breathed out against your neck, kissing your shoulder softly, thrusting slowly allowing both of you to ride out your highs.

You both fixed yourselves up the best you could, Harry helping you fix your robes so they looked untouched. There was no denying the blush that was on both of your faces, your hands brushing against each other’s only making you blush even more. You smiled shyly up at Harry when you were done, neither of you knowing what to say.

“I’ll see you around Harry.” You finally broke the silence, kissing the corner of his mouth gently before making your way back to the Slytherin common room, forgetting all about your walk.

The relationship you both had with one another had changed dramatically after that. Everyone, including the teachers, were surprised you and Harry hadn’t been interacting at all for once in your six years at Hogwarts. The first few days following the incident in the hall you both couldn’t look at each other without your faces heating up. In potions class it had been even worse, both of you having to brew a potion as a pair went against you, your hands brushing against each other’s sending shocks up your arm. 

“Y/N.” Harry called you one day, stopping you in the hall. You looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move from the spot even though everything in you told you to run.

“Yes?” You asked softly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth making Harry lick his lips.

“Do you want to hang out? Sometime… Like a date.” He scratched the back of his neck. A small smile formed and your face.

“I’d like that.” You nodded, both of you parting ways before you could make even bigger fools out of yourselves.

You and Harry became almost inseparable after that. When you approached each other for your date everyone had thought you two were going to have a secret duel without any of the teachers there to watch. It was a surprise when they followed the both of you to see you hang out and act civil with each other. What shocked them even more was the moment you and Harry shared your first real kiss outside of your incident. It had looked full of love and passion, Harry’s hands coming up to hold your face while yours came up to hold onto his arms. 

With shock also came the people who had been disgusted, particularly your house members. You hadn’t ever said anything nice about Harry in your first six years at Hogwarts, and now that you were only gushing about him made your friends almost gag. In particular one of the Slytherins found it absolutely atrocious that you had been dating a Gryffindor, especially it being Harry of all of the ones you could’ve chosen. No one was surprised when Draco spoke down to you about your relationship, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“What are you two doing together?” Draco asked in disgust making you look down at your feet.

“That’s none of your concern Malfoy.” Harry explained, pulling you in the opposite direction. He wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing your temple as you walked. 

“You didn’t have to do that Harry.” You mumbled, pulling your sweaty hand away from his to wipe it on your robes.

“I did.” He nodded, standing in front of you grabbing your chin to make you look up at him. “I had to, because... I love you.” Harry whispered caressing your cheek, catching you by surprise. You stayed silent for a while, looking Harry over for a while.

“I love you too.” You whispered a response.

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Tag list: Let me know if you’d like to be added

@mathletemadison @severuslovebot @izzytheninja @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @supermassiveblackhope @tinylumpiaa​ @accio-rogers @whack-ed​

[zevlors-tail]

Febuwhump Day 8 - “Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep!”

A/N: I can’t believe I just wrote this in one sitting. I know I’m super behind on Febuwhump, yikes...but I think this turned out pretty well! This got longer than I meant it to be, but then, so did most of the prompts in my drafts that I have for this month. This is actually my first time purposefully writing whump so I hope this was okay! Unedited btw, i’ll read it over in the morning.

TW: Burning building, explosions, second degree burns, mentions/descriptions of burn wounds, life or death situation, building collapse, concussed reader.

***

The first thing Hawks notices when he comes to is the foul taste in his mouth. It causes him to gag and cough with his eyes still closed, though that doesn’t help his situation much if at all. The smell of something burning sears the inside of his nostrils and clogs his lungs, and he finds it incredibly hard to breathe as he rolls over onto his side, eyes finally fluttering open.

The second thing he becomes acutely aware of is how hot he is. No...how hot the floor is. Speaking of which, he couldn’t seem to recall what he was doing down there anyways. If only that incessantly annoying ringing in his ears would stop-

Wait. Wait a minute...

An image of you flashes behind his eyelids as he blinks them shut harshly to block out the billowing cloud of smoke filling the room, and it all comes back to him in a whirlwind.

There were villains. High class villains. Not your every day run of the mill villains, but villains who could really pack a punch when fighting back. They had been occupying a small skyscraper at the time as their headquarters, and you and Hawks had partnered up to take them down after months of steak outs and observation. But something had gone wrong...very wrong. Those details were still a bit blurry, but Hawks remembers something akin to an explosion- a loud noise, the building shaking, and a blast that knocked him unconscious.

All of the sudden he’s hyper aware of what’s going on- and he realizes he needs to move fast if he’s going to get out of here alive. He’s at least twenty stories up in the air on unstable structures, his feathers and hair are singed, and his head is foggy after inhaling too much smoke. Luckily he can still move, and it doesn’t look like he’s been burned too severely, at least not yet. But the flames licking at the bottom of the closed door in front of him cause alarm bells to scream out in his head, and he knows he doesn’t have much time to think. He needs to find you so he can grab you and-

Ohhh, shit.

As he rolls over onto his other side, he can make out the outline of a figure lying on the floor, and he’s almost certain it’s you. None of the villains stuck around after blowing the place up anyways, and he can just barely see the dulled colors of your hero suit behind the thick screen of smoke.

“Fuck! Oh god, Y/N.”

You’re lying too still for your own good, and Hawks thinks he can see the beginning of what he can only assume to be fire slowly eating at the wall next to you. He wastes no time and flattens himself on his stomach, army crawling in your general direction to avoid the worst of the putrid air. It doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing. He ignores the uncomfortable heat of his body and pushes onward, his movements still a little sluggish from getting knocked out cold. He’s not entirely sure if he can even use his feathers right now while they’re this singed, and furthermore, he hopes his wings aren’t completely out of commission; he’s going to need those if the both of you are going to make it out of this alive.

“Y/N!” he tries to shout, though it ends in a horrible sounding cough that comes from deep in his chest. As he draws nearer, he hears what sounds like creaking coming from above the two of you, and to his utter horror, the support beams under floor above you have burnt to a crisp and look like they’re ready to collapse any second. It had to have been a sheer miracle that the two of you weren’t already engulfed in flames yourselves. “Y/N! Come on, kid, you gotta get up! Move!”

Even as he tries to urgently get your attention his body seems to move on it’s own accord, and before he can stop himself, he sends a few feathers your way out of habit and concern that you might be crushed any second if he doesn’t move you somehow. It hurts like hell, and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. This is by far the worst he’s felt when using his feathers, but it does pay off, and you’re lucky that he made the split decision to move you- no sooner had he scrambled back with you had the ceiling collapsed into the floor.

He turns to you while staying low to the ground, shaking you desperately and firmly smacking the side of your face with his hand in hopes of interrupting your forced slumber. It works but just barely, and Hawks watches as you try to take a deep breath but end up choking just as he had. He gives you a once-over while you struggle to breathe, eyes flitting over your form to assess any damage you may have taken- and to his dismay, there seems to be a good amount of it. The entire left side of your hero outfit is singed, bits of the fabric even burnt into your skin in certain places where the heat must have been too strong. You hadn’t been able to move away or protect yourself in your sleep, and the burns on your arm and leg can definitely attest to that. They’re second degree, at least; some of the fire must have actually made contact with your skin.

“Oh, fuck- Hey, look at me. Y/N, focus here!”

He leans over you to look at your eyes, and he doesn’t have to shine a light in them or have you follow his finger to know that you hit your head a little too hard. They’re glossy and unfocused, and you can’t find a single place on his face to fixate on. You just keep looking all over, and Hawks can clearly tell your concussed. 

Fucking great. He’s got to get you both out, and now.

“Hey, kid. Can you hear me?” He nervously awaits an answer with eyes trained on you, and the second you start to talk he lets out a small breath of short-lived relief.

“Hawks...? Wha...” You look so out of it and dazed.

“So that’s a yes, thank god...” Before you try to ask anything else, he stops you in your tracks and shakes his head at you. “Whoa, whoa, whoa- take it easy, alright? No questions, I just need you to listen and keep talking to me. Doesn’t matter what it’s about, I just need to know you’re awake and alive-” He pauses briefly to look around for something, anything he can do to escape.

There’s the door you both came from, the one that’s barely holding back the raging heat behind it- that’s a no-go. No way in hell is he trying to brave that. His wings won’t last five seconds in that, and you don’t have the means to protect yourself while you’re concussed. Another option is to try and escape through the hole in the floor that the ceiling caused...but that’s way too risky for the both of you as is, and it looks like flames are starting to creep in from that way, too. If he is going to take that route, he needs to do it soon. Maybe he can get to a staircase, or find a-

The sound of you moaning in pain cuts through his thoughts and his head whips back in your direction to find you grimacing and trying to move. “Ah ah- Don’t do that. Just keep talking, come on. I know it hurts, but you gotta keep talkin’ to me. I’m gonna get us out of this mess, somehow...”

Panic starts to set in as he realizes his options are limited. Terror grips him in it’s icy stone-cold jaws as he comes to the conclusion that his odds of survival are even worse.

“Hawks...it hur’s...” All you can do is roll your head back and forth and try to move, but your body just won’t cooperate with your mind.

“Fuck. Fuck! I know, I know...” His teeth grit together as he thinks, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Adrenaline is starting to kick in, and he’s desperate for anything at this point.

He still has no plan in mind when he makes another split second decision to move you from where you’re currently laying. The fire is only spreading up onto the carpeted floor the two of you are on, and the smoke is getting worse by the second; this room is a hot box with no ventilation at this point. He carefully picks you up and cradles you to his chest, his wings wrapping around the both of you to both support your frame and shield you from the onslaught of unbearable heat. It forces him to take a few steps back, and he does his best to navigate through a screen of black without bumping into any furniture. He almost trips several times, but eventually he hits the opposite wall. Or, rather...

A window. Bingo.

“S’ tired...” you mumble. Your eyes are already fluttering, rolling to the back of your head as your limbs grow heavy in his arms.

“Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep! Y/N!? Come on, stay awake!”

“C’n we go...home now?”

He doesn’t like how ragged your breathing sounds.

He almost chuckles at the absurdity of the situation, but his lungs are already full of tainted air to laugh, let alone breathe properly, so he scoffs instead- and instantly regrets it. Between fits of coughs, he presses his shoulder to the glass behind you both to test the temperature, and it’s much hotter than it should be. Part of the glass is already blown out to his right, but there’s not enough space to crawl out without the jagged edges of it tearing up his flesh and wings. But if he could somehow break it...

His feathers. He’ll have to use up more of them, but if he uses the bare minimum necessary to break the glass and saves the majority, he may be able to make it out the window and fly you both to safety. 

“We can’t go home yet,” he chokes out in response to you, finally. “I’m gonna get you out of here, and then you’re on your way to the hospital, yeah? You’re gonna be fine.” 

He knows that to be true, so long as he can actually manage this. He backs up as far as he can go without subjecting either of you to the hot flames now openly invading the room, the entryway having burnt to a crisp already. From where he stands now, he hopes there’s enough distance to create the amount of force needed to shatter that damn glass. After a quick estimate of how many feathers he can get away with using, he readies them, and it all boils down this moment. If he can’t do this, you’ll both die. Both of your lives are at stake, resting on his weary shoulders. He can do this.

He has to.

“Wanna go home...wanna go...” You’re just murmuring to yourself, and it really puts Hawks on edge.

He hears the glass shatter before he sees it. He stumbles forward, wings still securely wrapped around you, and all but falls out of the edge of the window right before the rest of the floor collapses in on itself. He hears the devastation behind him, feels sparks on his back where the holes of his shirt meet the beginnings of his wings. He knows if he had hesitated or stayed any longer, neither of you would be alive right now.

Replacing his hold on you with his arms, he lets his wings drift open and prays he didn’t overdo it with the feathers, begs whatever gods may be listening that the two of you can at least slow the fall somehow. And to his pure joy and bliss, his wings, though bleeding and burnt and painful, are still very much holding up and allowing him to fly.

Now if he can manage to get you to a hospital...you’ll be just fine.

[starlightsearches]

Hux/reader ‘I’ve always loved you all of my life” friends to lovers? No rush btw! Take your time!

Of course, friend! Thanks for this request 🥰

Armitage Hux x GN Reader

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, mentions of death

Your fingers dig bruises into your skin where they press against your cheeks, but you ignore the pain, determined to stifle any stray noises. Hot tears pour from your eyes over your hand, stinging your skin every time you blink, but you can’t stop, regardless. It’s important to keep your vision clear. It’s important to listen for any sign of the intruders, who will certainly make there way to you at any moment.

There’s no time to mourn your friends now.

The blaster fire stopped a long time ago, but echoes of it still ring your ears so loudly you’re not sure if the footsteps you hear are a hallucination or not—until the door slides open, and you’re no longer alone.

Dead bodies move more than you do in this moment, muscles cramped and aching as you crouch behind the console, waiting for them to leave, waiting for a chance to run. The modulated voices grow louder—practically on top of you now; your lungs scream for one more breath, and you can’t fight the pain anymore.

You choke down a lungful of air between your fingers, and it comes back out as a sob. You know without looking that they’ve found you, and the fierce grip on your arm pulling from the confines of your hiding place confirms it.

It’s been years since you last saw a storm trooper this close, and it’s still not long enough. Like monsters from your nightmares, some of your earliest memories involve the troopers monitoring the halls of your father’s ship, just one sight of their inhuman masks quickens the pace of your heart.

“Don’t shoot,” you raise your arms, shielding your eyes from the blinding light and the stark white of their helmets, “I’m unarmed.”

The troopers—two of them—shift uneasily. Unfortunately, you’re telling the truth. If you had a weapon, they would be dead.

They’re not particularly gentle as they search and cuff you; you don’t expect them to be. Any kindness on there part now would only stoke the emptiness growing inside of you, and you couldn’t let that happen. You didn’t need kindness, you needed hope. And if you couldn’t have that, you’d get by just as well on fury.

You sit with your simmering anger, hardly listening as the troopers speak to each other in low whispers. You catch the most important parts: someone is coming, they’re looking for information, you’ll be the one to give it to them.

Not likely.

They’ve got you in their grasps, one at each elbow, but you ignore the feeling, planting your feet more firmly. Your breathing is hard and fast, lungs heaving in preparation. You’d do whatever it takes—fight, kick, scream, spit. You’d make them regret everything the moment they set eyes on you.

The door opens; you take one last chance to steel yourself. The troopers both salute their commander with their free hands.

When you look up from the ground, your heart stops, the fight gone from your body.

It’s him. The one person you couldn’t save.

Your stomach rolls, legs shaking—you feel like you might be sick. Time had been kind, blurring the startling detail of his features to a dull ache, but it’s all back now, twice as painful than it was before. That final goodbye plays through your mind, his features pained, the way his voice cracked as he begged you not to leave him. It was the first and only time you had seen him cry.

“Armitage,” his name falls from your lips in a pain-laden whisper, just as it did when you told him goodbye. His eyes flash with the same hurt—a fresh wound on an old scar.

Whatever passes between you stays there; the troopers stand at attention, waiting for their orders, and neither seem to notice that the world has been thrown out of orbit.

“We’ve apprehended this prisoner, sir. Should we stay for the interrogation?”

“Leave us,” his voice is strained, but the troopers do as he says. You’re alone with him for the first time since the last time.

He pauses, letting the silence linger. You keep your mouth shut.

“Did they hurt you?” His tone catches you off guard—certainly not warm, but softer than you had expected. It’s at odds with everything else about him, and everything that you had come to expect.

“No.”They had, of course. Your arms are still aching, probably bruised. And then there’s your friends to consider; probably bleeding out in the hallway.

But you don’t want to think about that.

“I-”

“I’m not telling you anything, so don’t bother asking. I’ll die first.” You sound braver than you feel, even with the way your legs shake. Was he willing to hurt you to get what he wanted?

“I’m not going to kill you,” he’s offended that you would even suggest it, features twisted in disgust before he smooths them over, and then there’s a pregnant pause, “it’s been a long time since we last spoke.”

“No shit. Forgive me if I don’t have much interest in playing catch up.” Your nerves are at a fever pitch, waiting for something to happen, but there’s nothing in the silence.

You had thought about seeing him again, before. Waited for the day he would find you, bruised and beaten but alive, and he’d try to apologize but you wouldn’t let him say anything. You’d pull him into your arms and he’d feel more like home to you than any base or star destroyer ever had. 

It’s been a long time since you thought that way. You never meant to give up on him, but given the way things turned out, maybe you already had. Maybe you gave up on him the moment you decided to leave.

“Your father died, a few months after you left,” he paces, orbiting around you, with a fabricated indifference, but you feel the weight of his gaze, measuring the tension in your shoulders, the surprise that registers when you hear the news. He comes around back to the front, closer than before, close enough that you can see the secrets in his eyes.

“Good, and yours?” Your thoughts are a mess—flashes of memories punctuated by blind rage. Bruises staining his skin like paint, his blood smeared on your fingers while you stilled the tremors in his shoulders with your own shaking hands. After all those years, thinking about Brendol still makes you want to scream.

“He died as well, not long after.” You hope it was painful, that he suffered.

“It wouldn’t have brought me back, even if I had known,” it feels like a cruel truth, and you see the way it stings him, but it has to be said. You had never regretted leaving the First Order. You only regretted leaving him.

He nods, eyes flashing away from you, glassy tears catching the light before he blinks them away. 

“So what happens now?”

He pulls the hem of his greatcoat back, reaching for the blaster on his hip, and you flinch before you can stop yourself. He keeps his eyes on you as he rotates it in his palm, extending it towards you, waiting for you to take it.

“You’ll need to hit me, hard enough to bruise. There are fewer guards on the eastern exit, if you make your way into the forest they won’t—”

“I’m not just going to run away.” Not without you. Not again. You push the blaster away, with both hands, and he flinches away from your touch, brows furrowed and eyes pained.

“Please,” he says pushing the weapon towards you again, ignoring your refusal, “I need to know that you’re safe, and that means you have to leave. I can’t guarantee your safety if you’re taken captive—”

“Then come with me.” You know by the way that he freezes that the suggestion floors him, but you refuse to budge, holding his wrist, keeping him close to you even though you feel him pulling away.

“You don’t— you can’t mean that,” years of pain line his face—hurt, rejection, the grief that comes with consistently being measured and never being enough.

“I do. Leaving without you was . . . I can’t do it again, come with me, or take me with you,” you plant your feet, determined. “I’m not going to lose you again.”

You tug at his wrist, turning to go, but he plants his feet, turning you back to face him, closer than before. His fingers trace over your cheek, the leather of his gloves cool against your skin. It’s been too long since he’s touched you like this. You’re surprised it’s just as you remember.

“I have always loved you, all of my life,” his gaze traces your features, years of lost love captured in the fractured green of his eyes. You’d stay like this if you could, caught up in the truth of him. No more mourning, no more lost love.

You’d spent too many years waiting for a chance to save him. You never expected that he’d be the one to save you.

[harrysweasleys]

christmas lovin’ // d.m

Summary: Oh hi!! Idk if your requests are still open but if you could, could you write a hufflepuff reader x draco post war?? In which they think that the other one doesn’t love them (THE PINING! THE LONGING) and they bake, and read together? With feelings being confessed? If you can’t it’s totally okay!! love your fics btw!

Warnings: none. so soft.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: sorry to those still waiting for their request to get written. my inbox is crazy and my request list is hella long so i’m trying my best. hope you enjoy this soft fic!! xoxo

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“Oh, come in, it’s freezing outside!” you grasped Draco’s shivering figure lightly by the shoulder and ushered him into your apartment, dusting the snow off of his hair and his shoulders as he placed his hands over his nose to warm it up, “Sorry I made you wait so long in the cold, I couldn’t hear you knocking in the kitchen.”

“No worries,” he shrugged off his coat and hung it by the door as you locked it shut, “I’m indoors now and that’s what matters.”

He smiled at you, the fluttering in your heart already beginning at the gesture. He removed his gloves and placed them in his coat pockets, proceeding to remove his shoes, kicking the snow off of them and nearly placing them by the doorway, a proper habit of his. He never left anything scattered anywhere.

“Something smells good,” he stepped off the carpet with his emerald green wool socks and closer to the fireplace in the living room, placing his hands in front of it and warming them up, “What’re you making?”

You flushed, pointing to the kitchen counter, “Christmas cookies. They’re my mum’s recipe. It’s a family tradition. I kind of need that, especially this time of year.”

Draco senses the sadness in your tone, stepping away from the fireplace and pulling you into a hug, “I know. I’m sorry. I’m here for you, though.” You could feel the warmth on him from having stood by the fireplace seconds before, but it was comforting. Despite having the fire going, you were still cold.

In the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War, you felt like you had lost everything. You had spent all of your years in Hogwarts learning how to be the best possible witch you could be, but when faced with the actual dangers that lurk in the magical world, you struggled coming to terms with what happened.

You felt like you owed your life to Draco, in a way. Neither of you were overly close in school, but he had saved you from a curse when you found yourself otherwise distracted. After that, you couldn’t let him leave your life. After all; how are you supposed to forget someone who saved you?

His company was comforting, safe, and a reminder of how precious and important every moment in life was. He brought you happiness and you did the same for him — there was no doubt about that. Every time he was over, you would forget about the outside world and solely focus on him in that moment. Whether you were watching a film, making dinner, cleaning, it didn’t matter. When he was in your presence, he was all you could focus on.

He would stop by your place nearly five times a week. You both dealt with so many mental and emotional traumas post-war, and your found comfort in each other. To the point that you’d find yourself missing him mere seconds after he left. He’d leave in the evening after spending the day with you and you’d find yourself going to bed wishing he was closer to you.

Safe to say, you’re in love with him.

You pulled away from the hug and nudged your head in the direction of the kitchen, “Do you wanna make them with me?”

He tilted his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows, “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose on a family tradition.”

“You’re not! I’m all alone, come with me,” you linked your hand in his and led him into the kitchen, where the dough was complete and the cookie cutters were messily thrown around the counter, “Put on an apron.”

He chuckled and looked over to where you kept the aprons hung, “Hm, I’ve got an option to wear one with little blue flowers, or one with yellow butterflies. Well, I think the blue flowers bring out my eyes.” He joked, pulling the one with the flowers off the hook and putting it on, twirling as if to model it. Somehow, even in a silly apron, he was the most breathtaking person you had ever seen.

“You look quite dashing,” you grinned, looking him up and down. He always had looked really good. Even when you were a young Hufflepuff, Draco’s natural charm and suave attitude had caught your attention.

“So do you,” he pointed to your apron, the giant red letters saying ‘kiss the chef’ written across it, “Very fashionable.”

The heat rose to your cheeks at his teasing smirk — you had forgotten about the childish words written on apron you were wearing. In hindsight, considering your feelings for Draco, this might not have been the best apron to wear.

“Just come help me bake,” you shook your head to sway from the playful conversation, moving over to give him some counter space next to you, “You do know how to bake the muggle way, right?”

He gazed off at the wall as if trying to remember before he nodded slowly, “Actually, yes, believe it or not. Made some with mum many years ago.” You noticed the sad smile he gave you, your beard aching for him. He had a falling out with his parents after the War and he hated talking about them. It was your ultimate goal to avoid mentioning them, so you took control of the conversation once more.

“Here,” you handed him a Christmas tree cookie cutter to bring him back to reality, “Make some trees.”

He chuckled, taking out a bit of the dough and rolling it in his hands, laying it out in the floury mess that was taking over the counter, “What shape do you have?”

You did the same, rolling a ball of dough and laying it out flat on the countertop, “Reindeer. Oh — and I have the best icing colours.”

“Well guess I’ll have to stuck around and you’ll have to show me these icing colours to prove your point,” he smirked, slowly beginning to produce some Christmas tree shaped cookies, placing them gently on the cooking tray you had placed in front of the both of you.

You flushed again, focusing your energy on cutting the cookies perfectly in attempts to not become too overwhelmed by the way he seemed to effortlessly flirt. Was he just always a natural flirt? You kind of hope he meant it, but you wouldn’t admit that out loud. Somehow, baking was becoming more of an intimate moment shared between you two and you never wanted it to end.

After filing up the tray, you placed it in the pre-heated oven and closed the door, marking the timer and grabbing another empty tray, “What shape do you want now? I’ve got snowmen, snowflakes, Santa hats... anything you can think of.”

You placed the tray down on the counter and pushed the box of cookie cutters in his direction, giggling slightly at the way his eyes widened.

“How many cookie cutters do you have? Bloody hell,” he chuckled, taking some of them out and analyzing them with a hint of amusement in his eyes, “Oh, wait. I like this one.”

“The cat shaped one? It’s not even Christmassy!” you laughed, rummaging through them as well and pulling out the Santa hat shaped one for yourself.

“I can make it Christmassy with your ever-so-colourful icing,” he winked at you, sending your heart into a frenzy. You momentarily forgot how to breathe.

He retuned to rolling the dough as of unaware of his affect on you. His usually tidy platinum hair was hanging in his forehead, lose stands dangling as he continued to cut the cat-shaped cookies, eyebrows furrowed in concentration in attempts not to mess up the shapes. You were worried he wasn’t enjoying himself, but every time he placed a new cat-shaped cookie on the tray, he’s grin proudly, telling you that he was in fact having a good time.

You were so distracted by his good looks that you almost forgot you were making cookies as well.

“Alright, done!” he clapped his hands, flour clouding off of them and into his hair and face. You stopped your cutting, clutching your stomach in laughter as he tried to wipe the flour off of him, coughing as it went up his nose, but making it way worse. Smears of white flour were now in his hair, cheeks, and nose.

“Priceless,” you struggled to catch your breath while laughing, lifting your hand to wipe even more flour across his nose, laughter not dying down when he turned to glared at you.

“How dare you,” he scowled, struggling to hide his own laughter, “That’s not fair. I have to retaliate.”

You stopped laughing, trying your best to give him a stern look, “How? I already did all the messy work. Can’t catch me off guard.” Placing your hands on your hips to emphasize your point, his eyes darted around your kitchen in search of something to do. You had thankfully put away the eggs and milk and other ingredients, so unless he went searching through your fridge and pantry, he wouldn’t find anything else to douse you with.

“Can’t catch you off guard?” he scoffed, stepping closer to you, “I beg to differ.”

You nearly choked on your breath from the immediate closeness, his body heat enveloping you to the point where you weren’t sure if you were warm because of him or because your nervous heart was thundering away.

You could smell him — the mixture of mint and cookie dough was intoxicating. He had always smelled good, but it took your breath away every time.

“How so?” your voice was soft, luckily covering the nervous tone. You wanted him to kiss you, to pull you close to his body and hold you forever. His hugs had always been unmatched, you could only imagine how good his kisses were.

Fortunately, your thoughts were confirmed as he leaned down and whispered, “Like this.”

His eyes fluttered shut and he placed his lips against yours, kissing you as if he had been waiting to do so for years. As if you were everything he ever needed. You kissed back immediately, melting into his touch and becoming weak in the knees. You felt like you were floating; the feeling of his lips against yours was unreal. He was loving, gentle, everything you thought he’d be.

You couldn’t help but feel as if everything you had been waiting for had come into play. You pined for him, longed for him, and you finally got to have the connection you had been waiting for. You’d never admit to him, but you had imagined what it would be like to kiss him. You’ve imagined the feeling of his lips moving in sync with yours, passion overcoming the two of you like a tidal wave. It was safe to say it was way better than you’d imagined.

His hands gripped your waist lightly as he broke the kiss, his flour-covered face smirking down at you, “Caught you off guard yet?”

You smiled, breathless, “Y—Yeah, I’d say.”

He kissed your nose lightly, shooting your a wink and turning back to continue the cookies you hadn’t cut due to your distractions. You felt frozen in your place, as if the events that just unfolded couldn’t register in your mind.

He had just kissed you. Kissed you.

“What’s wrong, love?” he chuckled, turning to face you with a knowing smirk after he cut the rest of the cookies, holding the pan in his hand to place in the oven.

“You kissed me,” you said, sounding exhilarated. You thought you sounded pathetic but your mind felt so distant and afar that you couldn’t mask a calm tone of voice.

He placed the cookie tray down, “That I did. I’ve been waiting to do that for a while, actually. Don’t laugh, but I’ve always fancied you. You’re so sweet, just incredible. And you’ve let me into your life, making me the luckiest person ever.” He had said it so casually, but his eyes held every bit of sincerity. He gazed down at you with a level of adoration you had never seen before.

“You have?” you gaped, heart still aflutter in your chest, “I—I’ve been waiting for you to do it too, actually. Almost did it myself a few times. I’ve fallen for you, and laugh if you want, but I’m so relieved you finally did that.”

He was now positively beaming. He placed his hands on either side of your face and leaned in to kiss you again.

——

Nearly an hour later, all the cookies were baked and you were comfortably nestled on the couch. The fireplace was warm, the blanket surrounding the two of you was soft, and the plate of cookies on the table in front of you was delicious.

You were reading a book silently, leaned up against Draco’s chest as he twirled a strand of your hair in his fingers, occasionally pressing a delicate kiss to your temple as you delved into the story in front of you. Each time he did it, your entire body got covered in goosebumps — it was a feeling you wanted to experience forever.

Draco wasn’t reading, but he was perfectly at bliss with you in his arms, head against his chest, and the warmth enveloping you two as the snow continued coming down outside.

You reached over, grabbing another cookie and taking a bite and being careful not to get crumbs all over your pages, decided to check the clock above the fireplace, “It’s late, Draco, I just realized.” You felt a little fluke noticing how late it was. You didn’t want him to leave. The evening had been the closest thing to perfect you had ever experienced.

He chuckled, placing another kiss to your forehead, “I know. I don’t want to leave though.”

Flushing, but agreeing, you closed your book and placed it on the table before turning around to face him, readjusting the blanket so you were both still cocooned, “Unless — I don’t know — do you want to stay the night? You don’t have to, but we could stay in bed and be warm and cozy and—,”

He cut you off by placing his lips on yours, rendering you speechless before pulling away and mumbling against your lips.

“Thought you’d never ask, love.”

[oliverwxod]

I know places (George Weasley imagine) Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warnings: Freds death mentioned, one swear word maybe, angsty, (they’re like 20 in this btw) 

Summary: An old school friend comes by Weasleys wizard wheezes to check in on how George is coping after the death of his twin Fred. And he’s not coping well. 

REPOSTING BECAUSE TAGS DIDN’T WORK 

It had been too long since she had last visited Diagon Alley, and it had changed. The atmosphere was as dull as the weather, grey clouds and grey skys blending in with the bland colours of the shops that used to be full of joy and colour. The death eaters ruined it when they came by years ago and it had never fully recovered, just like the witches and wizards of the magical world. The end of the war and Voldemort’s defeat still fresh in peoples minds. 

Celebrations never happened due to the mourning of the hundreds lost, it was going to take a while. 

Y/n looked up to the towering shop in front of her, the once new purple and orange paint vibrant, now peeling from the bricks, the colours faded with the years and the damage the death eaters lefts behind. It was scarily quiet, y/n supposed no one was ready for jokes at the time being, it would come with the recovering process. 

The sign on the door read CLOSED in bold letters, but she had come all this way and had spent time gearing herself up emotionally or mentally for this. She knocked on the door, three sharp taps that echoed through the streets. The sound of footsteps smacking on the wet pavement behind her caught her eye, stepping back from the door to glance in curiosity. It was just a passerby, running to get out of the rain. 

Once she turned back to the door she let out a surprised gasp as George Weasley stood there staring at her in confusion and curiosity. 

“George” she whispered barely audible. She didn’t know why she was so taken aback by his presence, she had come to see him after all. 

“Y/L/N” he spoke, the use of her last name always bugging her. He took in her appearance, a green cloak tied tightly around her shoulders, her posture as straight and proper as always, matching the confidence she held in herself. George always guessed it was the Slytherin way.

“what are you doing here?” he asked. He was baffled by her presence, he had not heard much from her since he left Hogwarts all those years ago to pursue the shop with Fred. He had only briefly seen her during the battle of Hogwarts almost a year ago.

“ I-” she was speechless, unsure how to word the fact that she just wanted to see him. 

“Ministry business?” he asked, having heard from his parents and Ron that she had taken a position working in journalism for the ministry. 

“No- I just … I wanted to see you” she spoke watching as his brow furrowed at her words, no doubt not understanding it. 

“Would you like to come in?” he offered, not sure what else to say. 

“please” she said softly, eyeing the rain that was falling harder by the second. She stepped inside after him, watching as he turned his back on her. Y/n took the moment to observe the inside of the store, it was still packed full of things that brought a smile to her face. 

Puking pastels and Peruvian darkness powder, Love potions and Pygmy puffs.

  “How is business?” she asked, George almost cringing at the small talk, he hated it. 

“Haven’t opened since” he spoke glumly. “Reckon people don’t have it in them for it just yet ,feels insensitive while everyones still recovering” 

“How are you?” Y/n asked the big question. 

“Why are you really here?“ he ignored her question, too used to people asking it.

“I told you, I wanted to see how you were doing, this past year- can’t have been easy” she said. 

“Why are you here now, out of all days” he asked, trying to make himself look busy. Y/n spotted a bottle of fire whiskey on the counter, half empty, it was clear he wasn’t coping well.

“I-I don’t know” she spoke truthfully into the quietness of the store, she watched as George moved, walking around the counter, creating an extra barrier between then. 

“I think of you a lot” she said open and honest, it shocked him. “Even more so recently” He stared at her, an expressionless face as he tried to think of a response. 

He could lie, say he didn’t think of her, that he didn’t read the articles she wrote every week, or he could finally admit that he thought of her often too. 

“My heart breaks everyday at the thought of you being alone” she said, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away and diverting her gaze to the rain hitting against the Windows. 

George knew that Ron must have said something to her, their offices at the ministry just across from each other and Ron often took to updating him on her without George even asking . 

He wondered if she was also alone and whether that was the reason she came to see him. 

Y/n had always been an independent person, she didn’t have many friends at Hogwarts, a few close Slytherins she had grown up with, but apart from that she was fairly alone, it had a great deal to do with the whole school knowing her parents were active death eaters. George was the only one who ever bothered to talk to her, even if it meant sneaking around. 

“How are your family?” she asked, hating the silence that had fallen, George used to be a man of words but now he seemed to not be able to find any words. 

“I’m sure you already know the answer” he said quietly.

“your brother wishes to see you more” she spoke, letting him know that she knew he hasn’t spoken to them in a while.

“If you came here to make me feel guilty then you can leave” he glared. 

“I came to see you, as I said. It appears that I still care for you even though you have never shown me the same.”

George stood staring at her unbelievingly at the realisation and feeling like the worlds biggest prat.

“I can not tell whether you are just ignorant or wildly clueless George” she sighed, starting to walk around the table in front of her filled with back to school boxes of jokes. 

“You know… I remember in 5th year.” she spoke still staring at the table of jokes “I took Daphne Greengrass to the hospital wing because you had tricked her in to eating some puking pastels. I came to find you to scold you and while I was telling you off we both started laughing… and then you reached out, tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and I thought… I thought you were going to ask me to the yule ball, but you didn’t, you just turned away from me and said nothing and then I found out the next day you were going with Alicia Spinnet… and that’s when I realised you didn’t feel anything for me.” She spared a quick glance at him, before adverting her eyes again. 

“But naive little me still had hope” she chuckled quietly under her breath. 

“Y/n- I didn’t know-” George started. 

“I’m not angry at you” she shrugged “its clear you were just clueless, but then in 6th year when we went through all that trouble of sneaking around Umbridge for the whole year, I thought… wow that’s a lot of effort to go through for supposedly meaningless hookups.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say” George said at loss for words, he had seemed to be at a loss of what to say as soon as he saw her standing at the shop door, she was the last person he expected to check in with him.

“I don’t want you to say anything, unless you want to” she spoke quietly. “It was never my intention to talk about this. Like I said, I just came to see how you are”

  “I wish we could change the past, but we can’t ” George mumbled.

“I suppose not” she spoke feeling the weight his words held. “I should go” she decided.

 George nodded twice, silently watching as she made her way to the door, stopping as he reached the handle. She looked at him before speaking. 

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I am sorry, Fred deserved the world” her voice was sincere and George sighed shutting his eyes tightly before opening them again. 

“Stay” he spoke “have a drink with me”

[allykakamatsu]

Hypothetical P5A

Okay, gonna make this clear right up front, I wanted to make this post for a while but the main reason I decided to do it now is because the Atlus announcement thing is almost here, and also cause I saw a video on this topic by Thorgi’s Arcade (go watch it btw it’s good) and while I agree with a lot of what he said, there’s also some things I’d change, not just cause I disagree, but also cause I think it would be fun. Anyway enough beating around the bush, let’s do this

Gameplay

I’m a firm believer in the phrase, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and the Arena games are already really good so not much to change. That being said, I still wanna change some things. First off though, we are keeping this 1 vs 1, no tag team matches. The arena games already have a lot of Mechanics going on and trying to keep everything as well as some new stuff WHILE adding a tag team button, yeah no let’s not outside of maybe a bonus mode.

This means I can’t add Batton Pass in as a new mechanic to represent P5, but I have a solution, that being Technicals. Status ailments already exist in this game, so how about when you inflict one and do a specific combo you do more damage, also providing risk vs reward as the player with the status will have a better idea of what the opponent will do making them more predictable. Also as for Persona’s, mostly everyone’s will be fully evolved, minus Yu cause him getting a final boss persona normally is a tad to OP, meanwhile the P5 characters will have their starting Persona’s, but they will evolve for big moves, like awakened mode supers and instant kills

I’m also borrowing Thorgi’s Arcade idea of having supports giving a slight buff in battle, like if you pick Fuuka your meter can build faster for a bit, meanwhile if you pick Futaba you’ll get an attack and defence buff. It’s the fairest way to include them without having to make them playable. I know Rise is already playable but this roster is going to have to be small as it is, and being a support doesn’t mean you can’t be DLC later.

Also, we’re not bringing back the Shadow Characters, just, we are not dealing with the likes of Shadow Naoto again.

:readmore:

Story

I am about to cop out a bit here, but Thorgi’s Arcade video had a really good idea for the story so I’ll just link it here https://youtu.be/yyB5rEM9UVU

To summarise for people who don’t want to watch, Nyarlathotep, the main villain from the Persona 2 games, has been gaining strength from all the suffering humanity has gone through due to 3, 4 and 5, and has gained enough strength to create a new Joker to try finish what he started and destroy the world. Mitsuru might think the Phantom Thieves are behind it cause this is clearly persona related and the fact that the leader of the PT’s is also named Joker is public knowledge, Naoto gets largely the same idea, Katsuya and Maya decide to have their own investigation, meanwhile the Phantom Thieves are trying to prove their innocence and help save the world. Nice excuse to bring everyone together, but who will the everyone be?

Base Roster

Okay, I know the dream is getting everyone from Ultimax back plus the new P5 characters, but given Arc System’s standard for small base rosters, I’m not holding my breath. The ideal would be everyone plus who I’m about to say for P2 and P5, but I’m keeping it… somewhat realistic. Anyway onto the actual size, 16 seems fair enough. One more than the most recent Guilty Gear game for a series that had pretty big success so that sound fair enough. Let’s get the obvious out of the way though, all the base 8 Phantom Thieves besides Futaba are making the cut

Okay so that’s obvious but how will they play? Starting off with Ren/Joker, Smash Bros already laid a great foundation with him being very fast on the ground and in the air plus being great at combos, so I see no reason to change that. Also no need for him to be a Jack of all trades either cause spoilers, Yu is coming back and he already fills that role.

As for the others, Ryuji I can see being a slugger charge hybrid. Basically starting out he hits pretty hard but is a bit on the slow side to compensate, but just like any good athlete, give him a chance to warm up, ie do a charge input, and he becomes a lot faster and has better combo potential. Or we could make him a toned down version of Little Mac where he’s great on the ground but he’s in trouble the second aerial combat is involved. Then there’s Morgana who with his ability to turn into cars and the fact he introduces thief tools like smoke bombs, I can see him being a faster but frailer successor to Teddie.

Then there’s Ann who, no doubt, she’s a Zoner, and with her fire she’ll be Yukiko’s sort of successor. However instead of healing, I’d implement the fact that she learns concentrate and have it so the more she charges it up, the stronger her attacks get, but the Meter will gradually go down over the match. Yusuke, as tempting as it is to cop out and say ‘have him play like Vergil in Marvel vs Capcom’, I have a different idea. Namely, take advantage of the fact that Yusuke can learn counter by having him be the defensive specialist, set up ice traps to freeze the opponent, and if they get close, he can either counter or go for some combos.

Then there’s Makoto who would definitely be a grappler. I mean, she practices Aikido and is really strong, she can 100% pull it off. Finally Haru…… TANK! I mean come on, Haru wields an axe, has a grenade launcher, and Melady is literally a dancing tank in a pink dress, it just makes too much sense. I’d also give her a bit of armor cause if she’s slow she at least needs a chance to get her attacks in.

Okay so that’s 7 out of our 16 slots down, and given that one slot will have to be saved for the Evil Joker who would be the villain, we’re halfway done with 3 games to go, lord help me.

Okay, starting this off with P4, I’m gonna give them more than the others purely because they were the focus of the originals and there’s less realistic cuts I can make compared to 2 and 3. To make things simple, every returning character would play the same, and as for the ones I’d bring back for the base roster, we’ve got Yu, Yosuke, Chie and Naoto. Why them specifically? Well Yu is the main character, Naoto being a detective would basically mean she’d be the one getting everyone involved in the first place, Chie is currently training to be a cop as confirmed in P5 so her getting called in makes sense, and Yosuke is the best investigator after Yu and Naoto, he’s always up for a mystery and the second he learns Yu is involved he’s joining in. I just couldn’t cut him.

Now before the really painful cuts, Persona 2 is really easy. Out of Innocent Sin party members, by the end of the series Maya is the only one left with a Persona, and Katsuya is not only older brother of Innocent Sin’s protag Tatsuya, but he’s also pretty important and a detective so he’s definetly the one Maya’s dragging into this. As for how they play, they both use guns like Naoto, but how I’d mix them up is with Katsuya, I’d let him attack while moving (unlike Naoto who has so stay still to fire) at the cost of less combo potential, meanwhile Maya dual wields her guns so she’ll probably play like Noel Vermillion from BlazBlue where she’d more or less just use the guns to get longer reach melee attacks instead of shooting.

Now, for the hard part. There’s only 2 slots left, one of them basically has to go to Mitsuru (not that I’m complaining I’d probably add her anyway) meaning now I have to choose between the rest of the Shadow Operatives/SEES for the last slot. I narrowed it down to the 3 that were in the original Arena cause they’re the most plot relevant, but that still meant I had to choose between Akihiko and Aigis. I ended up deciding on Aigis though cause A, with Labrys not making the base roster someone has to represent the robots of the series, and B, with Akihiko currently pulling a Ryu by travelling to get stronger, it makes more sense that Aigis would be closer and easier for Mitsuru to call up. Honestly I was tempted to bump the roster up to 17 so I could have both of them on the base roster, but this is ArcSystems, 16 is already kinda pushing it.

DLC

Given that this is a modern fighting game, DLC is inevitable. However since this DLC will likely be like Ultimax where the story acts to wrap up loose ends and have a new story, it’s going yo be big, especially since there’s going to be a fight with Nyaraloptep, so go big or go home in this case. Okay so first order of business, anyone who was in the previous arena games who wasn’t in the base roster is getting added back in, it’s only fair. That out of the way, the new faces I’d add are Futaba actually being playable now and the big 4 P5 characters I skipped, Akechi, Yoshizawa, and Sophie. Before anyone asks though, Sophie was added into a Dragalia Lost collab with Koei Techmo not being credited so she’s likely Atlus’s copyright so she's safe to add.

With that out of the way, how would they play? Starting with Futaba, I’d think she’d be the resident puppet fighter, sitting on top of Necinomicon and only occasionally adding in some of her own attacks like a projectile. Also she'd also probably act as a bit of a grappler cause her Persona has tentacles (no hentai jokes please) which have long reach so that'll be perfect for it. Next up is Akechi who I can see as semi being two characters in one. My basic idea is that at first Akechi will be fighting with Robin Hood and he'll be a solid jack of all trades with a slight focus on rush down. However once he goes into his awakened mode he'll gain Loki, which will increase his speed and attack strength, at the cost of his defence, turning him into a glass cannon.

Next is Yoshizawa, or 'Sumi as I like to call her, and her thing will be she's the mobility focused fighter, namely constantly moving around the stage and poking at her opponent while doing it, at the cost of being frail. Finally there’s Sophie who would be a combo focused zoner, as in her standard projectiles (the yo-yo’s) wouldn’t hurt that much on their own, but she can string them together into the fancy yo-yo tricks to potentially do big damage. As for how much this DLC would cost, it’s going to be very big, so €25 to €30 sounds fair

I think that more or less covers my thoughts. I could keep going on about this for a while, but I think this is a good place to stop. Hope you like my idea!

[itsclydebitches]

I’m the tin foil hat anon and I wanted to thank you for the response on my bb submission, you make great points. Although I was frustrated that some of them raised even more questions I didn’t think of myself… UGH… lol the S2 wait is gonna be painful

On the point of crosshair thinking his chip was removed a looong time ago(meaning before bracca or even as early as ep1) it wouldn’t make sense bc of his response to Hunter’s “you tried to kill us, we didn’t have a choice”. He says “and I did?”. So he seems to be aware he couldn’t control himself in all their previous encounters. Does it mean he knows his actions were due to chip then?

And you say crosshair avoiding the “when” question can be due to him not caring if the horrible actions he committed are chip or himself and it’s meant to show that he truly is despicable and evil. It could be the case because he shows absolutely no remorse or regret over slaughtering civilians, never apologizes to his brothers for not only trying to kill them but almost successfully incinerating(!!!) them. On top of that (apparently) without a chip he casually murders his own squad without a blink of an eye right in front of them.

On the other hand, he shows care for Omega’s safety in that episode and wants a better place in the universe for his brothers(even if it’s obviously a mistake). He sounds hurt and betrayed by them yet he still wants what he thinks is best for them. He seemed genuine and sincere in that moment. Even after they refused to join he protected them against the droids. He had multiple opportunities to shoot Hunter or others in the back but never did(and looked like didn’t even consider it). BUT after all of that he decides to raise his gun and try to shoot hunter who already has his gun drawn?! And in front of the whole squad holding him at gun point!!! WTF was he thinking?! WHY? I know they rejected his offer but still. Did his reveal completely change his plans? I just don’t understand. I know he is meant to be “complex and nuanced character with layers” but what a mood swing lmao

As much as I loved and enjoyed the bad batch overall I’m beginning to think that all these inconsistencies aren’t meant to be a crafty set up for next season. What they most likely are is just writers being vague on purpose so they don’t write themselves into a corner.

And as to why the batch and Omega didn’t even try to rescue their brother could just be so that Hunter and Crosshair would have this drama and disagreement at the end. Despite brad rau claiming their argument was over ideological differences. And Jen Corbett saying in that same cursed interview that the batch always love and support each other no matter what because they’re family. Well, I guess not crosshair, he doesn’t count anymore lol

And I agree with you I’d rather see the batch acknowledging they could have done more to try and rescue him than go into the chip details. However, I have a suspicion the real reason or explanation on why they never went back for him isn’t going to be brought up ever. Even *in universe* it simply does not make sense. Just makes me sad seeing how many people also try to come up with explanations. That should have been the writers job to provide something besides Hunter’s “you tried to kill us” bc that’s a weak argument and a total bs since he was SHOCKED to learn crosshair doesn’t have a chip.

Btw sorry for the long posts lol I just found your takes very intriguing

The season two wait is something awful and I only just started it lol. No worries about long asks though! My blog has become quite meta heavy over the years, so this is normal for my inbox. Besides, it’s a bit of a pot and kettle situation. It's not like my answers are particularly concise :D

Okay first, I have the unpopular (?) opinion that Crosshair was never planning to shoot Hunter, partly for the reasons you lay out here. You’re right, it doesn’t make sense, and rather than just accepting that he had that kind of “mood swing" (which would be pretty bad writing based on everything else we've seen) I think it does make sense that this was never his intention at all. Rather, it’s just a setup to make the audience think he’s about to shoot Hunter—that’s the obvious goal of that moment: the shock, drama, confusion, and then relief—but that doesn’t mean that in-universe that was ever Crosshair’s goal, even for just a split second. Omega leaves the pod. Echo, crucially, says that he can’t see her, setting up that Crosshair with his enhanced sight is probably the only one who could. He grabs his rifle off screen and as he does, Hunter leans over the side of the pod as he prepares to jump in, precisely where Crosshair needs to aim to hit Omega. Hunter is in his way. He’s directly in the line of fire, not because Crosshair is aiming for him, but just because that's where Omega is and they're both aiming for her: Crosshair with his rifle, Hunter ready to dive. The little shift Crosshair makes reads to me as him ensuring he doesn’t hit Hunter, despite him being right where he needs to aim, not him full on changing targets.

Even if we choose to read it as him deliberately aiming at Hunter—because yeah, the scene is meant to be ambiguous—I don’t think he, like, meant it meant it. Crosshair, as we’ve seen throughout TBB and TCW, can be pretty antagonistic. He likes to do things to get a rise out of people, like staring at regs until they snap at him, or pushing Rex’s buttons until he swings. If he was choosing to aim at Hunter in that moment, rather than Hunter just being in the way, I think it’s only bravado. Remember the “Don’t make the same mistake twice. Don’t make me your enemy” line? Crosshair has a need to remind others of his skill and power—whether it’s playfully like in TCW, or more seriously in TBB—and that’s likely what this is here. “Hey, Hunter. Look. I got my weapon back. I’ve got you cornered. I’m about to save our sister when you can’t. Remember that I’m good and you need me.” Those feelings of abandonment are tied up in that need to be needed, so when Crosshair is seething at being left behind, brutally showing them how he can get a drop on their leader and doing the thing they can't (save Omega) is a great way to remind them of what they threw away/re-boost his own self-esteem. But none of that means shooting Hunter was ever a real possibility. Because nowhere else do we see Crosshair willingly trying to harm his team. He does while under the chip’s influence, but then he never hurts Hunter when he’s captured. He kills his new team before they can hurt the batch. He helps them fight off the droids. There’s a tussle, but it’s not choreographed like either he or Hunter truly intends harm. Crosshair demonstrates no aggression during the entire escape, willingly gives up his weapon after saving Omega, and just stands there as they leave. If this guy actually wanted to hurt them, he would. Which is more likely, that Crosshair had a split second of real murder intent across two episodes of doing everything possible to help his team, or that this was just a mean bluff?

But personally, I don’t even think it was a bluff. I think the coincidence of Crosshair needing to aim there and Hunter already being there is just meant to imply an attack for the audience, not imply that Crosshair, in-universe, ever intended to hurt him, even for just a second. If he had, he wouldn’t look so surprised and sad when he realizes the others are pointing their weapons at him. If he was out to shoot Hunter, even if only for a moment, seeing his brothers come to his defense would be expected; a given. But if he only ever intended to save Omega, then seeing their weapons trained on him would produce the emotions we saw: shock that they’d turn on him and then severe disappointment. From Crosshair’s perspective, he didn’t do anything wrong and never intended to do wrong either. Hence, looking away in disbelief that his need to aim through Hunter was taken as a serious threat. He's realizing that they honestly believe that he would hurt them. Not the chipped version of him, but just him, all on his own.

As for the rest of his characterization, I think your point that “You tried to kill us” is a weak argument is pretty important. Meaning, Crosshair knows he didn’t attack his team and nearly kill them, the Empire controlling him like a puppet did. He (arguably) doesn’t owe them an apology for something that he was as much a victim for. However, we usually expect one anyway—like Wrecker still apologizing to Omega—because that's how people who have hurt loved ones react, whether the hurt was intentional or not, but that guilt is currently overshadowed by his fury that they left him behind. For him I think it’s a bit of a circular problem. Yes, he nearly killed them… but he wouldn’t have nearly killed them if they’d come back and rescued him. With the obvious disclaimer that the Empire is the real evil here, Crosshair as a threat is a bit of a problem of the batch's own making. If they’d done the right thing and gotten him out, there wouldn’t have been these scary moments like the engine incident. If they’d at least tried, then Crosshair likely would have been more guilt-ridden because he hurt his brothers who were trying to help him. As it stands, he tried to hurt the people who claim they're his brothers, but who left him behind. That's why he presents this second chance as magnanimous: from Crosshair's perspective, they haven't done anything to earn his care, but they're getting it anyway. An apology though? That's pushing things too far. If when Wrecker turned the group had locked him somewhere in the ship and gone off planet, leaving him there under the justification “Well, he tried to kill us!" would Wrecker still return with apologies for his actions... or would he be primarily pissed at being left like that, withholding apologies because they did him harm intentionally, whereas he did harm under another's control? I mean, maybe he'd be forgiving (the huge difference between his and Crosshair’s personalities is another factor), but also maybe not. Having Crosshair apologize for the near-death experiences requires 1. For him to feel responsibility for something that was forced on him and 2. For him to not be absolutely furious at the batch for abandoning him. They've gotta work through that before Crosshair can acknowledge that guilt.

Killing his second team on the other hand… idk if the batch cares, honestly. It was the killing of civilians that they balked at, not other fighters like themselves. Even the Jedis’ execution, something they clearly didn’t like, wasn’t enough to turn them from the Empire, presumably because the Jedi are capable of defending themselves. They fell in battle. It’s only when the Empire asks them to kill kids and untrained civilians that they go, “Absolutely not. This organization is evil.” Murder of other fighters was, you know, not great, but not worth defecting over either. Crosshair’s second team is made up of fighters who have been trying to kill them, so they’re definitely fair game. If we removed Crosshair’s plan from the situation and the batch was just fighting their way off Kamino after a capture, would they have also killed the team without a blink of an eye? Probably. It's self-defense. The second they raised their blasters it became a battle and, unless you’re specifically out to stun someone for some reason, battles end bloody. The shock is which side Crosshair was on, not that one side was willing to murder the other. It’s definitely messed up from our perspective that Crosshair laid a trap to murder his team to prove a point… but from the batch’s perspective? Crosshair killed a bunch of imperial fighters who were threatening them during a battle. That’s just an average Tuesday for them, nothing much to get upset over.

And omg don’t get me started on Crosshair wanting to find Omega a family! Like yeah, it’s obviously a #mistake and his faith in the Empire is Super Messed Up but... the underlying motivation is so good. It’s another situation where there’s no easy answer. Which is more important: Omega’s emotional health where she grows up with clones like her, the people who are now 100% her family, or her physical health, where she stays some place where she’s not always getting shot at, kidnapped, at risk of going hungry, etc.? It’s easy as the audience to go, “Of course she belongs with her dads!!” but if you choose to read the story through any realistic lens, Crosshair absolutely has a point about this being terrible environment for a kid, the exact point the batch themselves were making until Omega begged to stay. I love my feral, compassionate child but let me tell you, I YELLED when she yeeted herself out of that pod. This is a traumatized, formerly isolated kid with absolutely zero self-preservation, combined with, at times, a lack of basic common sense that’s inevitable in children (like not realizing she can’t pull a very heavy droid up through the water). As emotionally gutting as the thought is and, in this particular case, a Very Bad Idea, I really can’t fault anyone for raising the possibility that she go somewhere else, somewhere she’s likely to survive into her teens 😅

[theoriginalmarke]

A THRONG OF THURSDAY THOUGHTS

Kitten wants to go to wrestling in Santa Maria with me tomorrow night. Maybe because a couple of them we know have signed with Impact, ROH, the NWA or have appeared on AEW or other shows (Outlandish Zicky Dice, Sledge, Richie Slade). Maybe because Ricky Ruffin danced with her at one show. Maybe she wants to watch Sin Cara, who has escaped from WWE. Maybe she’s humoring me.

There’s a great Cuban place (Cubanissimo Coffee House and Cafe) on the way that I’d like to stop at. Every time she’s with me they’re closed. Hopefully we’ll get to try it this time.

I won’t be camping since we’re both riding up in the car. I’m still looking at camping sometime this month, though. I’ve mentioned Hipcamp before, kind of an AirBnB for camping. With the national forest campgrounds in the area shut down because of the fire danger Hipcamp places are a great option.

There’s a couple of farms with goats and cattle that look interesting. There’s a place up in the desert that I’ve been looking at, and the weather is cooling off enough to try it.

Check out Harvest Hosts if you have an RV, btw. They have wineries and such that allow you to spend a night or two in their parking lot, often for free or for a nominal fee. No tent campers though, only self-contained campers.

Speaking of wrestling, AEW has been hitting its stride lately. They’ve got some great talent, decent writing with long term planning, and they don’t treat the fans like they’re stupid.

Meanwhile Vince McMahon continues to push WWE into a hole. Letting go of top talent, burying talent, dropping story lines without any kind of payoff, changing characters. They love to make someone a face one week and a heel the next, and then they’ll be a face again.

They’re also getting ready to change the one good show they had, NXT. Behind the scenes they’ve been consolidating departments and closing offices. Kitten suspects they’re going to be sold or are having money problems. 

Killer Kross (aka Karrion Kross) is a perfect example. In NXT he and his wife had one of the best entrances in wrestling. He was what we call a “monster heel,” a major bad guy and was undefeated. 

Vince had him lose his main roster debut. They changed his entrance and saddled him with some kind of gladiator gimmick. His wife, Scarlett, is nowhere to be seen. Why change something that was perfect? 

They’ve pretty much done the same thing to Keith Lee, too. And then there’s Ricochet, Angel Garza, Otis, and Chad Gable. It’s criminal what they’ve done to Cesaro. 

The worst is the shaking cameras, or switching cameras back and forth at breakneck speed during a match. It’s meant to hide any botched moves, so you  can’t see them missing a punch or kick for example. All it does is give me a headache, and sometimes it is flat out unwatchable. 

Anyway, AEW. Check ‘em out. The women’s division needs work, but overall it’s a good product. Support your local wrestlers, too. They’re performing at your local high school or flea market because they love what they do. Some will make it to the next level, some have been there and still want to wrestle. Some just love performing in front of a crowd. Thumbs up to all of them.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Thursday to do. 

I love you, Kitten. We’ll do our own rasslin’ match later. Nudge nudge wink wink.

Y’all have a great day.

[vro0m]

vro0m’s rewatch - 11/288

2007 Hungarian GP

More gifs! More drama!

Oh my, oh my, there’s been serious drama between Alonso and Lewis in quali. Lewis is on pole though. Oh that’s because Alonso got a 5-place grid penalty for impeding Lewis during Q3! Also the FIA decided that McLaren wouldn’t score any WCC points this weekend but they are appealing that. And apparently the whole thing was first caused by Lewis not obeying team orders? I’m confused right now.

But of course here comes the handy detailed recap. Aahhhh, so Lewis was heavier with fuel and disobeyed the team that wanted him to let Alonso past so he could try for pole. That’s not a great look. So Alonso pitted and was signaled a countdown by the lollipop man to leave the pits at the right time to avoid traffic. But then Lewis was faster than him because he was on soft tyres and had less fuel by then, so his time was better. Alonso pitted one last time for a last attempt. Lewis was behind him so he was waiting for Alonso to go to get his own pitstop done. Alonso got new tyres and another traffic countdown that lasted 20 seconds, which meant there was 1 minute and 40 seconds left in the session. The lollipop goes up but Alonso doesn’t move! He’s now arguing with his engineer over the radio about why he wasn’t given soft tyres. The mechanics can be seen waving to him repeatedly but he ignores them and when he finally drives away, it’s too late for Lewis to go for another lap. Ron Dennis is fuming.

In a post quali interview, we can see Alonso blatantly lie. He says he waited the time he was supposed to wait. The journalist asks : “So you’re saying your engineer was giving you a countdown over the radio?” – “Yes.” – “And did you see Lewis was behind you?” – “Yes.” He smiles then laughs. – “Did you see your chief mechanic waving to you to leave the box?” – “Yes.” Ah what great sportsmanship 🙄 He says he chose to listen to the supposed engineer in his ear rather than the mechanic in front of him.

So Lewis got yelled at by Ron Dennis for his own part in this story and everybody is tense and awkward now. Lewis explains why he didn’t let Alonso past. First of all, he thought the decision to be unfair and not properly explained to him. Then he says at the first corner, if he had slowed down to let Alonso go he would have also lost a place to Raikkonen who was just behind. So instead, he decided to just go for it and thought if he was fast enough they would both get a good chance at a fast lap. Then he admits the engineers repeatedly told him to let Alonso pass but also says that by then his teammate had backed off so he couldn’t do it. He says he’s in a lot of trouble with his boss now and Alonso was extremely mad at him then, and he doesn’t know if he still is now. He smiles sheepishly.

He knows it was a mistake not to follow team orders but thinks you should be true to how you feel etc. I mean. Right. That’s really not okay though. He shouldn’t have done that, period.

Also apparently Ferrari forgot to refuel Massa at some point and fucked up his whole quali. Weird mistake. Ah and Seb is back on the grid ! I don’t really understand what they’re doing with their drivers tbh. It’s like that guy from the European GP who managed to lead even though it was the most chaotic debut race possible. Why was he even there ? Omg, actually, we’re just explained that Seb is here because Scott Speed got fired after the last race 😭 Savage! So Sebastian Vettel is now racing for Toro Rosso. Look at this child !

On the whole Ferrari-McLaren Espionage Drama front, the case is going to the international court of appeal. I don’t understand why, they’re really not explaining anything? I’m not even sure what the decision was at the FIA hearing (which happened on tuesday of that same week btw)? It’s Jean Todt being interviewed and honestly he’s being very unclear and confusing. Oh wait, it’s actually the whole “McLaren can’t score WCC points today” thing, right?

Anyway, they’re now heading for the grid as we hear more from Lewis. He says his respect for Alonso hasn’t diminished but he doesn’t think he has a good excuse for what happened during Q3 which necessarily leads him to thinking certain things. But he doesn’t want to think about that, he wants to stay focused on the job. He mentions Cool Runnings that he used to watch at least once a month and how when things get heated he thinks about this song from the movie that’s called “Rise above it”.

He’s learning who he can trust and who he can’t and says there’s a lot of politics going on (yeah no shit) and it can easily affect you doing your job but he wants to focus on what he has to do which is “get in the car, enjoy what [he is] doing, keep smiling and keep pushing.”

Damon Hill is commentating this weekend and he’s very supportive of Lewis and how he’s handling the situation.

We hear from Ron Dennis who sounds extremely tired. Absolutely exhausted. He says it’s a very challenging situation and nobody’s 100% innocent. He’s considering whether McLaren is not treating both drivers as equally as they are trying to. He takes responsibility. He says obviously if the plans they had in place were executed as planned they wouldn’t find themselves in this situation right now and also the fact that it’s only their team in this situation means they have to consider what to do from now on. It’s very unclear all the while whether he’s talking about the FIA thing or the Alonso-Lewis situation or both or whatever. Honestly I’m not sure he even knows what he’s talking about given how utterly drained he seems to be.

Many people are asked their opinion of the situation and seem to think the matter is internal to McLaren and thus should have been handled as such without the intervention of the stewards, meaning Alonso shouldn’t have received the penalty, which is often more or less explicitly deemed severe. Everybody seems pretty sure Alonso did it on purpose though.

The broadcasters are quite apologetic of Lewis behaviour, they seem to think it’s a rather good thing he disobeyed and are saying that the teams would probably complain if a driver was too easy to push around which is an absolutely ridiculous statement imho. How partial can you get lol.

Formation lap !

And they’re racing !

Perfect start for Lewis! Alonso struggles. Raikkonen is second then Heidfeld. There’s already gaps appearing at the front of the race. Alonso is seen running wide and lacking grip. Two laps in, Lewis is already 2.5 seconds clear. I’m settling down for a boring race.

Lap 4, the gap is 3.366. Someone is out. It’s Yamamoto.

10 laps in, Raikkonen is getting quicker but then Lewis but then Raikkonen etc. Maybe it’s not going to be as smooth as I thought? But 5 laps later, the gap is almost 5 seconds. Nothing much is happening. On lap 20, after they both pitted, the gap is only 2 seconds, but still nothing is happening.

Halfway through the race, the gap is 1 second. Still nothing. Massa then pits and comes back out just in front of Lewis who locks up a little. Raikkonen is then .7 behind. Massa should get blue flagged to let Lewis through. He is blue flagged. But he doesn’t give the spot right away. Raikkonen is closing in. Massa is walking a fine line here, he could soon get a penalty for impeding. You wonder whether Ferrari calculated that pit stop. Meanwhile Button is stopping by the side of the track. Massa is actually pulling away, so he couldn’t let Lewis past. Weird. It means he’s actually faster than him then?

Ah there you go, Massa finally gets out of the way. It compromises his race as he has to slow down significantly. Anyway Lewis’ pace isn’t great at the moment. Davidson spins. Yellow flags. Maybe even a safety car? His car is half on the track half on the grass. No. No SC it seems.

Around lap 45, second pit stop for Raikkonen. Lewis is still leading and puts in 3 more good laps to widen that gap. He pits with a solid 28 seconds lead.

10 laps to go. Absolutely nothing is going on. Ah my bad Alonso managed to climb back up to 4th. Okay.

Anyway this race is so boring even the journalists don’t know what to say. It’s very silent. And yep that’s it. That’s the end of the race. Lewis wins, nothing happened.

It’s his third victory. Oh and Nicholas is here !

That trophy looks pretty. Anthony is delighted, of course.

Lewis says it was an emotional weekend for everybody and he’s enjoyed the race. He’s happy they’re back on top after the eventful European GP.

[relaxxattack]

(this is like 1.3k words btw probably should have mentioned that)(I haven't reread this in like two weeks so gl)

Sometimes it's wise to not open your mouth. That was the first thing Ran had learned while traveling to the other world.

A few half-seconds after that, he learned that humans were a danger, and violent. Seemingly flinging their sloppily made weapons at any being they didn’t immediately recognize. He had to learn a lot of things in those few moments he had spent on that green filled-plain. He can still relay them in his mind, every now and then he finds an odd obligation to.

“Do you think I make a good general?” Jackie asked his otherworldly friend, the small man’s eyes tracing horizon in front of them. The calm lavender of the setting sun being clouded out of view by blooming rose-bushes.

Rule 1 is a lesson Ran finds himself relaying quite a bit.

Reassurances began itching themselves in the back of his throat, the small compliments of leadership and respect laying uncomfortably on Ran’s teeth and bitterly against his tongue.

An empty and distant “How so?” was what left his mouth in their place.

“It’s just,” Jackie's steps slowed for a moment. “I’m not a warrior, or- or even a soldier really. I just miss,” the general paused, stopping himself “God, I shouldn't have won that duel-”

“What do you miss?” Ran interrupted

Jackie hitched his breath and bit the inside of his lip, a flicker of pain sparking in his eyes “it's complicated.”

Human emotions were, with lack of a better word, odd. A single twitch of the eye or the wrinkle of the nose could have hundreds of roads leading to it, each becoming less and less paved as it got closer to its destination.

What further complicated this was that different expressions meant different things for different people, something that was entirely alien to the enderman, and something that took a lot of readjusting to become common to.

It was excruciatingly difficult with Jackie however. Often there were universal mannerisms that showed emotion amongst everyone. Small certainties that made Ran’s job just a little bit easier.

All of these practices had been thrown out the window at the sight of the general. Ran had been required to evolve a keen eye for pointing out when his friend became distressed. Perhaps it was the tenseness of his jaw, or the way he forced his shoulders down from hiding away his neck.

They were small things, for often a hollow grin left a stain on the blonde man’s face.

Something ached in the back of Ran’s skull “do you just not want to tell me?”

Jackie allowed his head to sag.

“I don't want to tell anyone really,” the young man explained with a nervous laugh, view craning downwards towards the hoard of daffodils that had begun to blossom over the garden-path.

They were beautiful things, blooming in honey and sugar bells, their undersides being highlighted in a golden orange as the light split through the petals.

There was something mesmerizing about them, the stems pinching through the cracks in the pavement and the soft, enclosed buds flopping over the smaller strands of green that kept them connected to the rest of the plant.

The blond boy held a lonesome nostalgia for when he would pick them from the line of their roots, growing through the gravel path in his old back garden. How he and his sister would split the flimsy stems in half and taste their sour insides, the clear, sugary liquid stickying the tips of their fingers and flecks of green getting inside their fingernails.

“What are you looking at?” Ran questioned, peering over the short general who had seemed to stop in place.

“They really are beautiful,” the young man answered.

“The daffodils?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize most gardeners consider them weeds?”

Jackie clenched his jaw and hit his friend on the arm a bit too roughly to seem playful “oh please, and you’re not a gardener now are you?” A forced, breathy chuckle came out of his mouth.

They were the small things.

That was yet another thing Ran had to figure out. But he’d get it eventually. He always does.

The smaller of the two quietly stormed away from his friend, kicking up granite and limestone off the ground as his feet trudged against the gravel, a small cloud of grey building up behind his heels.

The blond boy’s silhouette was outlined by a fractured golden rim as the sunlight filtered in through the gaps in between the rose-bush’s leaves, his shoulders seeming to quiver as they were strained down by his own mandatory will.

Ran paused, gazing at the lovely picture in front of him, the gorgeous oranges and reds lighting up the garden's foliage creating a pinkish purple reflection off the flora.

Something weighed down in the back of his chest. He wanted to see Jackie’s smile be genuine, at least for the rest of the night.

“They do look nice,” the tall one said, catching up to the small sunflower that had moved so quickly past him.

Jackie’s eyes softened and Ran felt something flutter behind his ears.

“You really think so?” He asked, looking upwards towards his friend.

“Definitely,” Ran answered.

The boy bit the inside of his lip, the corners of his mouth craning upwards into a grin “what do you like about them?”

Ran thought for a moment “,I enjoy how they grow in groups. No matter where they are, unless the rest were picked off obviously, you’ll never see one alone.”

“Do you have a favorite flower?” Jackie perched up on his tiptoes and poked his nose close to the enderman’s face.

“Um,” the creature said, flinching back slightly “I don’t, really, know any. Do you want to tell me some?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, continue then.”

Jackie lingered by his friend's emerald eyes for a moment longer, entranced by the way they seemed to be framed in sparkling jewels.

He had beautiful eyes, that was one of the things Jackie had learned.

The short boy pointed over to a field of purple flowers and began rambling about hybrids history and how they bloom. How they've evolved, how they’re perceived and what they mean. Another enderman creature came up briefly, something about bouquets and wedding venues although the conversation quickly changed pace towards the vines of ivy and grapevine that grew over the side of the building, the grape curling around frames with the ivy tracing the cracks between bricks.

They talked about flowers for the rest of the night, one going on tangents of pollination with the other humbly listening, wandering around the garden as ramblings of petals and pigment created a hum from the greenery.

It was a nice night, afterall Ran’s cheeks hurt from smiling for so long, and what night like that couldn't have been nice?

Just for tonight.

At least just for tonight.

---

It was important to keep logs of the day. Information discovered, things that should have gone unseen and private being filtered out through trails of citizens and roads leading to another realm.

The page with flowers sketched into the corners, however, was one that would be ripped out and hidden, stuffed into the back of a drawer neatly folded and left to read over later.

Of course there were a few pages torn at the seams. Ones that Ran knew neither he nor Jackie would have wanted to be discovered.

They were important, though. The self-doubt, a weak link that could be potentially valuable during war-time, not that Ran was 100% sure that the diplomat he had been newly assigned even knew they were fighting.

It felt like a quiver lined with something bitter, the archer firing arrow heads made of needle and flint with a bow string lit on fire.

The trickles of ink from quill to paper detailing strategies and lackluster qualities of the opposing side.

This is when he’d remind himself of Rule 2.

The most important point to be made.

I wrote this like 3 months ago so the pacing is a bit weird. but jackie is kinda out of character for a reason lol sleep deprivation and burnout will do that to you :]

its sweet though its so sweet im going all TwT rn.... awwwwwwweee

okay now i must return to my work prison (god its due soon and im doing just Horribly help hudvsjkmx)

[our-heroes-rise]

light of my life

pairing: todoroki x reader

request: Hiya! I was wondering if I could get headcanons for Shoto and his gn/nonbinary s/o during the training camp attack. Like he finds his s/o injured and fighting/they help out with protecting Bakugou and almost get kidnapped? Also, if it isn’t too much trouble, could his s/o have a photo kinetic quirk? They can control and bend light, glow in the dark, and make solid objects out of light like swords, shields and stuff? Sorry if this is too much. Much love! 💛💛

hero name: vigilante!

warnings: angst + swearing + mentions of suffocation (nothing graphic!)

word count: 2,539

a/n: it’s never too much!!! detailed request are fun cause there’s more to work withhh, hehe. also super cool quirk bro i love it! i have an oc with a similar one! btw, i’ve been watching a lot of criminal minds lately so... well if you watched the show you’ll understand why it has the sort of tone it has lol. edit: this is me reading your request again a little later. YOU WANTED HCS? w e l p i wrote you a whole scenario instead because this idea was just too good lol. i still hope you enjoyed it though!

No one ever truly understands the fragility a life holds until it’s a hair’s breadth away from shattering into a million pieces before their eyes. Until it’s ripped from their grasp and dangled like a treat out in front of them. Strangled from their throats by an overwhelming poisonous fog that swirls like fire’s smoke in the depth of their lungs, greedily absorbing every ounce of oxygen with each inhale.

As humans, who stand at the top of the food chain, we often forget how terribly weak we can be against others of our kind. Each of us wants to believe that if it came down to it, if we were thrown into that last millisecond before life or death, that we would fight until our very last breath. But the ugly truth remains; not all of us have that ability. Not all of us are capable of staring down death as it comes hurtling towards us with our teeth bared and fists curled ready for a brawl.

Some of us are simply built to run and there is nothing we can do to change that.

Unless you are the few who choose to reject that belief. The ones who choose to veer their fleeing in the right direction, towards the impending danger and cries for help. The ones that evil should fear the most because those are the strongest and most resilient fighters of all. They turn their fear into heated, unyielding determination, ready to burn through any threat that stands in their path without hesitation because they will never stop running after the ones they are meant to save.

And yet, life has still never felt frailer than in this slow crawling moment of asphyxiation.

Get up.

Leaves cling to your clammy palms, soil caking the skin beneath your nails, fingers clawing at the ground for purchase, dragging your body across the forest floor towards Jiro’s purple shrouded figure still lying limp on the ground.

Get. Up.

Your vision swims, black creeping in from the corners, eyelids mimicking the weight of boulders.

Get up!

Fighting isn’t an option but running is. You can still reach her. You can still save her.

Your arms tremble horribly with the simple effort of lifting your torso off the ground. You grit your teeth, then pray that what little breath you have stored in your lungs is enough, and will your legs to move.

⊹⊹⊹

Shoto hears a rustling in the shrubs behind him, but the elongated teeth that come hurtling towards him don’t allow him the luxury of glancing over his shoulder to see what it was. A barrier of ice prevents any of the villain’s attacks from landing, though it doesn’t hold long before he’s forced to throw up another one, tightening his grip on the unconscious boy slung across his back. There’s an aggravated growl from Bakugou beside him.

He can’t imagine anything good emerging from the strangely colored fog looming behind them. Best case scenario it’s a forest critter fleeing the chaos, in the worst case it’s another villain coming to heard them closer to danger.

Please be safe. Please.

Your excited smiling face just before he entered the trial of courage runs through his mind like an endless loop, tightening the vice-like grip of anxiety around his heart. You had been behind him and Bakugou with Jiro as your partner. He wishes more than ever now that he had traded places with Jiro. Without knowing exactly how far apart each group was, he could only hope that it was far enough so the fog couldn’t reach you. No matter how unlikely the situation was.

The rustling movement comes again, the blade-tooth villain attacks once more, forcing Shoto and Bakugou back a step before Shoto’s able to protect shield them.

“You hear that too, right, half’n’half?” Shoto sees from the corner of his eye that Bakugou has cast his gaze to the trees bordering each side of them, searching.

“Yeah,” he grunts, shifting the unconscious boy’s weight. “I won’t be able to protect both of us if it’s another villain. And I can’t keep this up forever, his attacks are becoming stronger, more enraged.”

“I never needed your damn protection anyway.” Shoto withholds an eye roll. Leave it to the class hot head to remain stuck in his ways even when his own life is at risk. “If it’s another villain I’ll kill him.”

“They’re after you. You’ll have to be more mindful of your attacks.” Another barrage of ice to counter the villain's attack. “If you start another fire you’ll just -”

“Yeah, yeah I get it Icyhot, get off my fuckin’ -” A sharp intake of breath pulls Shoto’s attention away for just a millisecond, barely enough time to see the alarm flicker across Bakugou’s face, then he’s occupied with the villain again.

“What? What is it?” Shoto demands, words chopped through gritted teeth.

“The fuck happened to you?” Bakugou asks instead to presumably whatever has made its exit from the fog.

Shoto’s mind races with a million possibilities. Could the fog have more side effects than knocking its victims unconscious, like physical mutation? Was it another student or a new villain? The villain who created the fog or a different one? Was it -

“Shoto, look out!”

He was too late. His ice wasn’t fast enough but - but the glimmering white shield of moonlight was. The tooth-blade rattled against the hard exterior with four others before withdrawing for the following attack, which he was ready for this time. His next ice wall would be thick enough to hold the villain off for a few extra seconds, that way he could see, he had to make sure it was -

“Y/n.” His bout of relief lasts less than a second after taking in your ragged appearance. “What happened?”

Jiro is sprawled on top of a stretcher with the same moonlight shimmer of the barrier you had protected him with moments ago. She’s unconscious. You lower the floating slab of light holding your partner to the ground beside you, now well away from the poisonous cloud.

“The. . . The fog it just -” you sway heavily, and Bakugou catches you by the shoulder “- it just came out of nowhere. And then... Jiro she got - she took it the worst so I had to. . .”

You shake your head and Shoto can tell that you’re fighting to keep yourself upright. His heart aches, but he can’t go to you yet, the villain isn’t leaving any time for that.

“It doesn’t matter,” you huff, raking your fingers through your hair, bleary eyes focusing on the pillars of ice behind Shoto. “I think there were others behind us but we can’t count on them to take out the source of the fog so our only option is to keep going forward or find a way around. Either way, we’ll have to fight sooner or later.”

“Y/n, you can barely stand. If you try to fight -”

“I’m fine,” you bite out, eyes snapping to Shoto for the very first time. And it isn’t your tone of voice that snaps his mouth shut, it’s the weight of your stare. The stubborn resolve that burns like an untamed flame, roaring in the face of your exhaustion. “If I stop now there’s no getting back up. I won’t be another piece of dead weight for you guys.”

“What about Jiro?”

“Of course, I’ll protect her too. We’ll be okay.”

Bakugou has stopped paying attention to the two of you in favor of the villain, the sound of ice cracking and giving under the thrust of more bladed attacks registers in the back of Shoto’s mind, and he knows its only a matter of seconds before he’ll be needed again. As much as he wants to, he can’t force you back. He knows you too well, you wouldn’t let him get the next word out.

Shoto levels you with a stern look. “We’re only fighting to get away, not to take the villain out. Understand?”

Your lips pull up in a wide wobbly grin that still manages to flood his chest with warmth, reminding him of every reason why he had fallen for you in the first place.

“Got it.”

⊹⊹⊹

He should have known better than to let you walk in the back with the other two. You should have been at the front of the group with him and the other three injured classmates. But the second Midoriya had asked you to be one of the few to walk with Bakugou you agreed without a second thought. Shoto knew there wasn’t any talking you out of it, not when you were aware of how important your role of protection was. If anything or anyone came at Bakugou one of your light shields would be more than enough to keep the threat at bay until the others were alerted.

Of course, you would have had to hear the threat coming in order to defend against it.

“I really would have left the light wielder alone,” Mr. Compress sighed, the sound of his feigned regret fueling the rage coursing through Shoto’s veins. “But after seeing their abilities in the sports festival, I knew they would just get in the way. And we can’t have any more setbacks, so, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off!”

No. No, no, no! Not them too. NO!

Shoto was the first to take off after Compress, sprinting down the path as fast as his legs would carry him, the others just a step behind him. Every fiber of his being buzzed with adrenaline, with the demand to bring you back to him, to reach the others. He was not giving up until every single one of you was safe back at camp. Especially you.

Especially you.

All he could see was your face. Your kind, beautiful face, smiling wide with adoration as he plants a quick tentative kiss on your cheek on one of the first dates he took you on. The way your nose scrunches cutely when he says something unknowingly funny. The way you look at him when you think he isn’t paying attention, how your eyes roam his face, caressing every feature of his with invisible loving hands. The way your cheeks flushed after the first time he kissed you.

The only time he’s ever kissed you.

Shit, he’s only kissed you one time, and he sure as hell won't let it be the last.

He would not let them take the only piece of solace he’s had since reconnecting with his mother. From the moment he understood his feelings for you he vowed to protect your smile, no matter what. It was what brought him comfort, made him feel loved, wanted, happy. He would be damned if he let them rip you away from him, strip you of that smile that breathes life into everyone else around you.

Sometimes it frightens him how quickly he fell for you. There had been no warnings, no road signs, no heads up, just a cliff that he had stepped right off the edge of. Shoto didn’t even know he was plummeting into an endless pit until he realized that there was a weightless feeling in his stomach every time he saw you, every time you spoke to him, every time you looked in his direction. And by then it was too late. He had no hope of rescue, already too far gone.

Sometimes it frightens him how easily you caught him, worried that he’ll do something to make you let go. To scare you away for good.

But then he remembers moments where you look at him with those eyes that could melt even the coldest heart, hold onto his hand as if the next second he might disappear, and remind him of the reasons you will always love him, no matter the differences that might come between you.

And he can’t help but feel safe.

He won’t lose you.

⊹⊹⊹

“Poor Todoroki Shoto,” the scarred villain whispers just as Shoto’s hand clasps around only one of the marble casings.

His heart sinks at the statement as hits the ground rolling, ignoring his spinning vision to stare down at the marble in his hand, trying to see who he was holding.

Did that bastard mean he had grabbed the wrong one? Were you still -

Before he can finish scrambling to his feet to chase back after the villain, there’s a flash of blinding light and a sudden limp weight in his arms. Blinking away the spots in his vision he quickly makes out your sleeping face.

The relief that floods his chest is selfish, he knows that, but in the moment he can’t bring himself to care as he crushes you to his chest, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Weak fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt and he looks up in time to catch Bakugou vanish into the portal with the other villains.

He’s torn between a whirlwind of emotions, pushing and pulling him in all directions. Shame, regret, anger, devastation.

“Shoto?”

His gaze drops to you to see you staring up at him through tired, lidded eyes, worried, and confused. Then there’s terror in your moment of clarity, you go shooting upwards, head whipping around.

“No! Bakugou! Tokoyami!” You sob, fingers twisting further into his shirt. “Where are they, Shoto? What happened?! I was trying to - they were - oh god, no, I couldn’t -”

“Tokoyami is here. He’s here.”

“And Bakugou?”

When Shoto can’t bring himself to respond he watches your expression crumble with complete remorse.

Where was that smile he had sworn to protect now?

Shoto curls you back towards his chest, where you release the worst of your sobs, soaking through his shirt while he tries his best to comfort you without words. Because he knows there aren’t any to take away the pain you’re enduring, thinking that you could have done any more than you had. So, he holds you tight, tucks your head under his chin, presses a kiss to your hair.

It’s less than a minute later when your sobs subside and he realizes that you’ve likely fainted again. The pros arrive a few minutes after, followed by the police and paramedics, who usher you into an ambulance along with the other injured students. On the ride to the hospital, you drift in and out of consciousness, each time squeezing the hand he has wrapped around yours, reassuring him and the paramedics that you’re okay, you’re just tired, that it’s just a little hard to breathe.

Even half-alive you still try to keep people calm, make them feel at peace.

Moments before reaching the hospital you come too for one more minute, then turn to him, gaze hazy, but he recognizes that same look from before, from just after you emerged from the poisonous fog. 

Voice thick with the painkillers that are pumping through your blood, you whisper to him, “We’re going to get him back, Sho.”

Shoto manages to give you a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “We will.”

[koala-otter]

so i have this idea that aang and katara ask zuko and sokka to take care of bumi kya and tenzin for the weekend and i would appreciate if you could give me that 🥺🥺 i love everything you write btw

thank you so much anon!! (and thank you for your patience with this)

I took some artistic license and made it pure Bumi (it came out pretty soft I think as a result, but writing so many kids’ dynamics seemed like a lot for me rn hahaha)

also this is only part 1 of 2 (maybe 3) and is on ao3

a weekend with bumi almost 2k words

Breakfast has just been served on the eastern patio of the Fire Nation royal palace when an attendant rushes over to the Fire Lord’s table. Zuko’s soup spoon has made it halfway toward his mouth while Sokka has been regaling Katara and Aang with a story about his latest trip to the royal tailor—his visits have only become more frequent now that he is officially married to the Fire Lord and has unlimited access to the best silks from Shiruku mountain—and the young parents have been steadily feeding one-year-old Bumi bites of fermented soybean. Zuko returns the spoon to the bowl when he sees the member of his senior staff approaching, the steam of the broth curling up and disappearing in front of his face.

“Yes, Hoshi?” he asks.

Hoshi bows deeply in front of Zuko. “My lord,” he begins, “a messenger hawk has just arrived from the Earth Kingdom.” He rises and turns toward the other side of the table, a scroll held out in his hand. “For Avatar Aang.”

“Thanks, Hoshi,” Aang says, reaching out to take the message. Hoshi disappears back into the palace.

Aang finishes feeding Bumi a piece of sweet potato before carefully placing his chopsticks next to his dish and unfurling the message. The rest of the table falls quiet as he reads, and for a while, there are only the sounds of birdsong and rustling trees from the garden below them. But then Bumi’s chubby hand reaches into his mouth, and Sokka fails to hold in a guffaw as the baby flings mushy sweet potato right onto Katara’s dress. Just as Sokka’s about to let loose into a full laugh, Katara victoriously holds up the napkin preemptively placed on her lap, immediately disappointing her brother. Zuko smiles in amusement. Aang rolls the message back up.

“What is it, Aang?” Katara asks.

“There’s a spirit attacking a village on the west coast of the Earth Kingdom,” Aang says, already rising from his seat. “I have to help them.”

“I’m coming with you,” Katara says determinedly. She shifts Bumi to her hip to stand.

“But, Katara, it’s not safe,” Aang reasons with her. “The spirit’s already ruined half of the villagers’ homes and taken some of them into the Spirit World.”

“Then you shouldn’t go alone,” Katara replies. “They’ll need help from both of us.”

“Okay,” Aang says slowly, “but I really meant not safe for Bumi.” He tilts his head toward the baby boy gurgling on his mother’s hip, his round, little fist once more in his mouth.

Sokka and Zuko watch Katara as she considers her son carefully. Bumi always joins his parents on their travels—they’ve even taken him down the mail chutes at Omashu and on the backs of kangaroos on Kangaroo Island. Leaving him behind seems unimaginable. But a fierce expression lights across Katara’s face, much like the one she gets before endangering their lives to save a village, or when she decides to teach the Northern Water Tribe’s female benders herself. She has an idea, and she will follow through on it.

“Sokka and Zuko can take care of him,” she says matter-of-factly.

Sokka and Zuko exchange alarmed looks as Katara hands Bumi to her brother, and Sokka becomes very concerned with holding the baby up and out from under his arms. Bumi’s always been big for his age, but Sokka’s hands still wrap completely around the upper part of Bumi’s torso, his fingertips meeting across Bumi’s back. Sokka always worries while holding him that his nephew is a very small, very fragile, little human being, but now he feels doubly aware of it, especially as the person suddenly responsible for his care.

“Are you sure—”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Aang says cheerfully. He pulls out his bison whistle to call Appa, but before he blows into it, he turns to the two men still sitting, stunned, on the floor and asks, “As long as you’re okay with it?”

“Of course,” Zuko says, shaking off his surprise. He stands and takes Bumi from Sokka, his arms still outstretched, and tries to hold him in a way that might reassure Katara and Aang that they’ve made the right decision. From their small smiles and intense focus on the sky, however, it doesn’t look like they need much reassuring.

“You’re in good hands, buddy,” Aang says to his son once Appa’s arrived. He gives Bumi’s hand a little shake. “We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Katara kisses both of Bumi’s cheeks and the top of his head, and then tickles his neck to make him erupt into a fit of giggles.

“We’ll keep him safe,” Sokka promises, now standing to put his arm around Zuko’s shoulders.

“I know,” Katara replies with a smile. She hugs her brother fiercely, then Zuko just as tightly, and kisses Bumi one more time for good measure. She only looks a little sad when Aang helps her onto Appa’s saddle.

“Be careful!” Zuko calls after them.

“You’re one to talk, Zuko,” Aang laughs as they take off, and Zuko can only smile and shake his head goodnaturedly, watching as Appa becomes only a speck in the sky.

When Zuko looks away, he finds Sokka still staring into the clouds in great distress. His eyes have gone wide, a grimace is plastered to his face, and if his arm weren’t around Zuko, he’d probably be pulling his own hair.

“Hey,” Zuko says in that soft, raspy voice of his, “they’ll be okay.”

Sokka starts. “I know that,” he says, pulling his arm back.

“Then what are you so worried about?”

Sokka uses both hands to gesture toward Bumi, gurgling away in Zuko’s arms. “How are we supposed to take care of a baby?” His voice is high-pitched and nasal, the way it sounds every time they’re confronted with an impending fight, or when one of his plans does not, well, go to plan.

“How would I know?” Zuko spies drool dribbling down Bumi’s chin and does his best to wipe it discreetly with his sleeve. He sneaks a glance at Sokka in case he’s noticed his grimace of disgust, and then clears his throat and says, “He’s your nephew.”

“Hey,” Sokka says quickly, crossing his arms, “as of three months ago, he’s yours, too.” His tone turns borderline academic, and his arm extends in something like an invitation. “Maybe you could come up with an idea for how to take care of him?”

Zuko frowns in response. With Aang and Katara gone, he and Sokka are the only adults on the patio. The leaves of the trees in the garden below shudder in the wind, no figures present to impede them but insects and their wings. Hoshi is nowhere within calling distance, the nearest guard is somewhere on the roof, and the last royal nurse was dismissed years ago. It is just them and the little table covered in dishes that have barely been touched, the bowls of soup still steaming.

Bumi lets out the beginning of a low wail and immediately succeeds in regaining Zuko’s attention.

Zuko pales and begins bouncing his nephew. “We could start by finishing breakfast?” he suggests.

Sokka immediately breaks into an eager grin and reaches excitedly for Bumi, whom Zuko is more than happy to hand over. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he almost chides himself, suddenly balancing Bumi seemingly effortlessly on his arm. He lands easily back in his seat at the table, holding the baby up so they can both survey the spread before them.

From this angle, Zuko realizes, with Bumi’s dark hair and dark skin and blue eyes, he and Sokka look stunningly alike. It comes not only from the clear markers of their shared heritage, but also in the pure emotion of their faces, Sokka’s so angular, Bumi’s soft and round. The look and smell of the food causes similar reactions in both of them, absorbing all of their attention and analysis. Zuko almost wants to laugh at the sight, an unfamiliar sensation bubbling in his chest and filling him with a welcome warmth, almost like plunging into a hot bath.

“All right, Bumi,” Sokka says instructionally. He moves his chopsticks adeptly over the collection of plates. “Your dad might be a vegetarian, but you’re half-Water Tribe, so it’s your birthright to eat meat. And your mom isn’t here to stop me. So.”  

Sokka reaches for one of the plates, only to spy Zuko looking down at him disapprovingly.

“It’s not like they’re gonna find out!” he says helplessly.

“Katara and Aang are his parents,” Zuko says, crossing his arms, “and we promised to take care of him for them.” He sits down and moves the plate out of Sokka’s reach, much to his husband’s dismay. “That means following their rules.”

Sokka sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces, his eyes closing briefly in resignation. They open suddenly, and he points a finger in Zuko’s direction. “But when we have a kid, they’re eating meat every day.”

Zuko freezes in response. When he and Sokka have talked about children, it has always been in the abstract, and always in a distant future neither can really envision. They both know of the expectations for an heir, but still, the surrounding language has always been “if;” never “when.” Even the last time it was mentioned, three months before, when a very drunk, very off-duty Admiral Chen made a comment about preparing the navy for toddlers armed with boomerangs and fire, Sokka only mirrored the horrified expression on Zuko’s own face.

Sokka barrels on, clearly not having noticed Zuko’s reaction, or his lack of a response. “Change of plans,” he says to Bumi, who reaches out with his tiny hand to lightly smack Sokka’s cheek. Sokka grins in response. “We’re trying fish.”

The words pull Zuko out of his daydream. “Sokka,” he says warningly.

“What? It’s fish,” Sokka says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s barely meat.”

He pulls off a small piece of grilled fish and brings it close to Bumi, whose eyes widen at the sight. He pulses forward on Sokka’s arm with his mouth open wide, waiting expectantly. With a shift of an inch, the fish lands in his mouth, and Bumi bursts into a loud hum.

Zuko laughs loudly at the sound.

“It’s good, right?” Sokka asks excitedly, already getting more for the baby boy to eat. Bumi nods his head, and his wild hair bounces around him, mouth already open again for the next approaching morsel. “Yeah, get the skin, it’s the best part!”

Sokka looks up to beam at Zuko. “This might not be so bad after all,” he says. His eyes sparkle with an energy Zuko’s never seen from him before.

“Yeah.” Zuko leans forward to feed Bumi his next bite himself, and chuckles when his nephew grows impatient and grabs the fish off of the chopsticks, mashing it into little flakes between his tiny fingers. He only laughs more as Sokka desperately tries to keep any of the flakes from falling on his clothing, but soon enough, Zuko grabs a napkin and distracts Bumi with a piece of sweet potato, cleaning off one little hand at a time. Sokka smiles gratefully at him and pulls Bumi back into his lap, while Zuko folds the napkin back up and places it beside his plate on the table. He settles back into his seat and listens to the wind in the leaves, the vibration of insect wings, the little songs of the birds, and Bumi, humming loudly still with each taste of his breakfast, and beginning to converse with his uncle in his special brand of baby talk.

Zuko smiles. “It might even be kind of fun.”

[violetwolfraven]

36 and RedFinch?

We’re leaders of different rebel factions or gangs and kind of hate each other but we also have a ton of sexual tension.

Ooh awesome. I haven’t written anything from Finch’s perspective yet so I guess I’ll do that now. Btw this is like an AU where they have powers (same ones as my other superpowers au just cause it’s easier to keep track of them that way) AND they’re rebels. Basically, in this one, powered people are illegal.

...

Finch heard a small groan from the other side of the cell and rolled his eyes. Great. He was awake.

“Ugh. Finch. Where the fuck am I and what the fuck are you doing here?”

“You don’t remember?” Finch asked, “Ya messed up my rescue op, asshole.”

The rescue had been for Crutchie. Or, at least, it was supposed to be. Finch had finally, finally, after six months of planning, gotten the location of one of the Manhattan gang’s leaders. He’d gone in alone, knowing stealth would be better for this, anyway, and not wanting to risk anyone else. They’d already lost so many.

Of course, they would have lost a hell of a lot less if Manhattan hadn’t split up.

Basically, Manhattan had, once upon a time, been a formidable gang. They’d been the bane of President Pulitzer’s existence nearly as much as Brooklyn.

Then, their fearless leader, Jack Kelly, damn near the most powerful powered person in the city, got captured, and everything started falling apart.

Jack’s power was that anything he drew would come to life to some extent. Whether that was just the smell of clean, clear air coming off a drawing of a mountain range or a live bull charging through the police barricade straight off the page of a sketchbook depended on how hard he was actively trying to use his power, but it was definitely useful, especially in keeping their hideouts hidden.

Without him, Crutchie and Race had tried to keep the order, but neither of them were as powerful as Jack, and were mostly calling the shots off the fact that everyone trusted them.

After Crutchie got captured, the gang tried to stick together, but Race was hanging on by threads to maintain everything by himself.

Then Race got captured, and without him, it was total anarchy. After a while of duking it out, the remaining Manhattan kids figured out that without their leaders, they couldn’t work together. They’d split into half a dozen smaller gangs.

Albert had taken one group and Finch had taken another, and now, after months of hearing about the others falling to pieces, they were the only two groups left.

The thing was, they both knew that separate, their groups meeting the same fate as the others was only a matter of time. So they both kept looking for whispers of where Jack, Crutchie, and Race were being kept.

And Albert had to come along and mess up Finch’s rescue op, which meant they were both captured and neither of them got Crutchie free.

Albert was clenching his fist, staring hard at his hand as a weak, barely red-hot flame flickered around it.

Finch rolled his eyes, “I already tried. There’s power dampeners in the walls.”

He demonstrated, trying to pull a knife out of the air and ending up with a pin.

Finch’s power was that he could pull pretty much any weapon less complicated than a gun of nowhere. His usual preference was a slingshot, but today, it wasn’t like that would do him much good.

“Well, that ain’t gonna be much use,” Albert noted, standing up.

He’d gotten taller in six months. Maybe it was dumb that Finch was noticing that.

He looked good. Healthy pyros who used their powers regularly always seemed to have a kind of glow to them, like their fire was just waiting to come out. Even in a power-dampening room, Albert’s hadn’t faded.

Nope. Finch couldn’t think like that. Him and Albert had been friends, probably would have been more with how much they’d flirted, but after that last fight, that door was closed. Locked. Forever. Finch had thrown away the key and didn’t want to find it.

“How long was I out?”

He shrugged, “Maybe a couple hours. It’s stupid. It’s a pretty simple cell, and if there wasn’t a dampener, we could get out no problem.”

Albert snorted, “Ain’t that convenient.”

He looked around, taking stock of what they had as if Finch hadn’t already tried everything.

“So, how goes it in your gang?” he asked, bored.

“Probably ‘bout as good as yours. Tryin’ to survive, losin’ more’n a few.”

Finch was a bit surprised he was admitting that he was losing people, “Who’ve ya lost?”

Albert shrugged, looking at the ground, “Jojo got captured last week. Other than that, we haven’t lost anybody in a while, but there was this real big raid a few months ago where I lost nearly half my guys. You?”

“I lost Mike a month ago,” Finch admitted, “Ike ain’t been doin’ so good since then. But we’s been careful. Other than him, we ain’t lost anybody since Race.”

“Except you,” Albert pointed out, “They lost you. Hope ya got a clear chain of command.”

“What, do I look stupid? Specs’ll take command till I get out.”

“Well, you do look pretty stupid.”

A pin popped out of nowhere and fell to the ground somewhere on Finch’s right. That happened sometimes when he was upset. Pins and needles took on a whole new meaning when you had a nightmare and woke up to a bed full of them.

“Anyway, that should be interestin’,” Albert said, “Considerin’ Romeo’s supposed to take charge if I don’t come back.”

Finch groaned, “Oh, God.”

Everyone knew that despite being in rival gangs, Romeo and Specs were still together.

Another pin popped out of nowhere and Albert’s eyes suddenly lit up in interest.

“What?” Finch asked, vaguely knowing that look meant he had an idea.

“Can you pull a bunch more of those?”

“I could, but why waste the effort?”

Albert walked over, picked up the two pins in one hand, and closed his fist around them.

His hand smoked vaguely, and glowed red, and when he opened his fist, the pins were fused together.

“They can stop me from meltin’ the bars, but weldin’ together a few pins ain’t gonna be a problem.”

“You can make some lock picks,” Finch realized.

“Exactly.”

Finch grinned and started pulling pins from nowhere.

It took them over half an hour, but Albert managed to weld together a couple of workable lockpicks.

“Give them to me,” Finch said, “I’m better at pickin’ locks than you.”

Albert snorted, already reaching through the bars, “In your dreams, maybe.”

He batted Finch’s hands away as he tried to steal the picks.

“Albert, we don’t know how much time we have.”

“I know that. Which is why someone who’s tired from pullin’ dozens of pins out of the air with a power-dampener messing with him shouldn’t waste whatever time we got.”

“And melting those pins with a power dampener is better?”

Albert shrugged, “Pyros don’t really run out of power. Not as fast as the rest of you’s, anyway.”

Finch groaned. This was why him and Albert had fallen out. Because as one of the most powerful Manhattan kids, he was never careful. He thought he was invincible and his plans always involved unnecessary risks.

“Does anyone challenge you?” Finch asked quietly, “Does anyone even try to make you be careful?”

The sounds of Albert messing around with the lock stopped for a second as he froze, but he recovered quickly.

“No,” he admitted, “Not since you.”

It was a miracle he hadn’t gotten himself killed, then.

And it was probably a good thing they didn’t get together. Finch had barely been able to take Albert’s recklessness when they were friends. Not knowing when someone you loved was going to make their last careless decision—because eventually, it was sure to happen—was hard enough without real romance involved.

“Ya know, maybe you’s lost less guys,” Albert muttered, “But I ain’t heard of no one hittin’ big targets except me. My guys and I damn near took out the Delanceys last week. Can you say the same?”

Finch shook his head, “No. But was it really worth it? Losin’ Jojo just to take a bite out of the government?”

Albert was silent for long enough that Finch could hear the lock pop open.

There were no guards in the hallway. They could probably both make it out before whoever was watching the cameras noticed they were gone, since they’d made it this far.

“Look...” Albert took a deep breath, “I know we ain’t friends anymore. But if you get any info on Race, Jack, or Crutchie... send it my way? I think we both know we don’t stand a chance stormin’ the kind of place they might actually keep one of them alone.”

Finch nodded, “Long as you do the same.”

Even as he tried to hate him, the redhead’s smile still gave Finch butterflies.

“See ya around, Albert.”

“See ya around, Finch.”

“Hopefully not in prison, next time.”

They both laughed a little at that.

There weren’t any power dampeners in the hallway. Finch felt better about the fact that he could now pull a slingshot for himself. Albert’s hand lit up with orange and yellow flames.

Without a word, they left in opposite directions, one headed to the emergency exit and the other for the front door.

The fact that Albert would be so reckless was why Finch still couldn’t trust him.