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violettelueur · 3 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE FOUR || CURSE WOMB MUST DIE

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + ryomen sukuna + ijichi kiyotaka from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing + violence + mention of blood + mention of poison + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 23 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 6.1k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : girl of steel

↳ next episode : curse womb must die II

↳ barista’s notes : i am back again with another episode of jujutsu kaisen everyone ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ i hope you guys haven’t gotten bored with this whole series, to be honest i forgot how long they take to write since it is a whole epsiode i am trying to retell with a new character in ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ ALSO i have created a masterlist for it as well as future stories i might write in the future! are you excited? ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

Destructive Curse Spell number one: Sho : 3:26-3:34

Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku : 3:03-3:07

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing

Shutting your dorm room door closed, you carefully wrapped yourself in the thin white cardigan you had brought out with you before quietly making your way outside the Jujutsu Tech dormitory wanting some form of fresh air due to your incapability to sleep for the time being.

As you began to walk around aimlessly, you quickly looked down upon your phone - nearly blinded by the brightness of the screen - to find out that it was exactly 2 am making you come to the conclusion that everyone was probably asleep and that no one would find you out for the time being.

To be honest, it wasn’t a surprise that you couldn’t sleep, it wasn’t like you never had these types of nights before. Although, they were becoming a bit more common than what you would have liked during your lifetime, especially at the age you were now where sleep was essential.

Finally making it to the track field (where you were supposed to be in the next few hours for training), you slowly crouched down to take a seat on the stone steps that lead to the tracks itself before cuddling into the warm cardigan since the light winds were slightly colder than what you have imagined.

‘It’s such a drag knowing that I have to be here, later on, to train with the second-years,’ you thought to yourself for a second before letting out a sigh of frustration, while running your hand through your hair as if it was some coping mechanism for the pending stress that was about to explode anytime soon.

“How long has it been?” you quietly uttered to yourself before looking onto the field as if there was something interesting insights or someone was going to answer your rhetorical question.

“A week? Two?” you continuously questioned yourself, before gently placing your hand on your upper arm as if you still felt the linger cursed technique you had used during the battle you had with him.

‘You possess such intellect, such skill, such power and such talent and yet you refuse to go against me with your full potential, are you mocking me?’

“Maybe,” you whispered your answer, before going back to the electronic device you had in your hand to open Spotify as you decided you needed something to fill up the silence with hint sounds of the wind, grasshoppers and passing cars that were surrounding you.

However, before you could press play on the chosen song you deemed was quiet enough to play out loud, there was a sudden presence your felt from behind causing you to raise your index finger to hit them with some sort of curse spell to warn them only for a familiar voice to call out.

“It’s just me”

Turning your body around, you found a tall male with erratic hair standing behind you with a non-expressive face before looking down at the dog that was right beside him with what some people say a happy grin on its face.

Turning back around, you shut your phone off before placing it in the pocket of your black joggers that you wore to bed, allowing the shikigami sorcerer to sit beside you with a gap while his divine dog took the opportunity to sit between the two bodies as it processed to rest it’s head on your shoulder, which you allowed since it was adorable not to deny.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked Fushiguro, as you processed to look onto the field while raising your hand to pet the dog’s head causing it to let out a happy sound before further resting itself upon your shoulder.

“Yeah..same for you?” Fushiguro then questioned, leading you to let out a hum in agreement to tell him you were in the same situation before silence took over between both you and him once again.

To be honest, the silence between you both wasn’t awkward at all, it surprisingly felt natural. Although, even if it was comfortable between you and Fushiguro, you both still have questions for each other, well rather Fushiguro had more questions for you than you had for him.

He just didn’t know where to start.

“L/N?” Fushiguro called out quietly (so quiet that some people might not be able to hear), leading you to turn your head towards his direction while his divine dog’s head covered your vision slightly. “How strong are you?” he then asked, causing you to express a confused look before turning back to the track field in front of you as if you were trying to find the right response to answer his question as if it wasn’t an easy one to reply to.

“Not that strong,” you replied in a nonchalant tone, leading Fushiguro to look at you with widened eyes as your returned response didn’t make any sense to him.

It really didn’t at all.

However, he didn’t have the strength to question your answer.

If he had listened to you back then, would your other classmate be alive with you all right now?

“Fushiguro?” you now called out causing the sorcerer to give you a hum informing you that he was listening in to what you had to ask or say.

“How long has it been since that day?”

ꕥ

The rain was currently pouring. However, it wasn’t too heavy nor was it too light but it was enough to make the mission that you, Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki were assigned to be eerier than it considered to be.

“Our window verified the curse womb three hours ago,” a man, who you recalled was named Ijichi Kiyotaka, mentioned before continued with, “once ninety per cent were successfully evacuated, they made the call to seal off the centre, citizens within a 500-metre radius has been evacuated, as well”.

‘Only ninety per cent? That means either the other ten are missing in there…..or dead’

“Ijichi-san, question,” Itadori stated before raising his hand as if he was in a classroom asking a teacher a question, “what’s a ‘window’ here?”

“A window is a member of Jujutsu Tech who can see curses, they aren’t sorcerers, though,” Ijichi explained as his arms were behind his back in a professional manner.

“Oh, okay,” Itadori muttered, as he understood the explanation that was given to him.

“Let’s continue,” Ijichi quickly stated as it seemed he had more information to be given to all four of you.

“Detainee Block 2, at present, five detainees remain there with the curse womb, if this curse womb is the type that metamorphoses, we predict it will become a special-grade cursed spirit,” Ijichi announced in a serious tone causing you, Fushiguro and Kugisaki to express a stern look upon your faces.

‘Special-grade? Wouldn’t they make a special-grade sorcerer take the job instead of us? Unless….’

“Hey, so...I still don’t really understand what ‘special grade’ means,” Itadori expressed with an innocent face as he looked at the three of you leading Fushiguro and Kugisaki to give him the fed-up look, while you just shifted your eyesight at your classmate since you understood why he didn’t understand any of the terminologies that were thrown at him, your adoptive father wasn’t the best teacher when it came to non-practical work after all.

“Then allow me to explain it so even idiots can understand,” Ijichi stated as if he was calling Itadori an ‘idiot’ causing you to zone out of the quick lesson to look at the detention centre that was in front of everyone right now. From what you could sense, there was an overwhelming presence beginning to loom over from the building that the other sorcerers didn’t seem to feel causing you to look at Itadori will a worried expression since you knew he didn’t have control of the newfound cursed energy he had gained from eating Sukuna’s finger.

Looking around to make sure no one noticed you, you quietly went up to Itadori from behind before hovering your hand over the back of his neck before using your cursed energy for the spell you were trying to prepare for him in advance.

‘This should protect him for one hit if we come into a surprise attack, but there is nothing else I can do without the other’s noticing’ you thought in a frustrated mindset before silently taking a step back to where you were previous to make sure no one noticed that you had planted a protective spell on your classmate.

“That’s real bad!” Itadori shouted, causing you to zone back into the conversation that was in the process.

“Normally a jujutsu sorcerer on par with the cursed spirit would take on the mission. On a day like today, that would be Gojo-sensei,” Fushiguro explained into further detail, while Kugisaki seemed to now paint a worried expression on her face.

“I-I see,” Itadori stuttered as he looked at the erratic-haired sorcerer before looking around as he then asked, “so where is Gojo-sensei?” which made sense since none of the sorcerers in front of you had ever fought with a special-grade from what you could sense.

“Away on business,” Fushiguro answered in a serious tone, which caused Itadori to give him a confused look as he then stated, “he’s not someone who should be loafing around that school in the first place,”.

‘But that doesn’t explain why four first-years have been sent to deal with this situation...”

“Unfortunately, we’re constantly short-handed in this business, you’ll often have to undertake missions beyond your power,” Ijichi expressed as he pushed up his glasses. “The current case, however, is an abnormal one, and most urgent. Do not fight under any circumstances, if you encounter a special-grade, your options are to either run or die,” Ijichi then stated with a serious tone leading you to internally scoff at the warning he gave.

‘That’s easier said than done’

Even though you knew he cared about the safety of everyone that was preparing to go in, it was ridiculous to say to any sorcerer not to fight since once you knew once you encountered a curse, there was no way of getting out of the fight at all, you knew that from experience.

“Please just listen to your fears, do not forget that your mission here is strictly the verification and rescue of survivors,” Ijichi repeated.

“Sorry, but as we are talking those ‘survivors’ in there are most likely dead, there is only a one to five per cent chance that there are any survivors,” you commented with a straight face causing all three of your classmates to look at you with a surprised expression on what you just said, but before anyone could deny your statement.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, where’s Tadashi?!” a worried voice cried, causing everyone to look, only to find a woman waving her hand while guards tried to push her back, preventing her to come any closer to all of you.

“Is Tadashi...Is my son Tadashi all right?!” the woman asked in a panic, leading you to give her a sympathetic look before you slowly walked up to her with a calm expression on your face.

‘If someone asks if someone is okay at the beginning of the mission, take it like a way a doctor calms down a patient or how a police officer informs the public about a case, dear. Imagine it from your perspective, you would want to know if I was okay, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yeah, I would mother’

“Ma’am, we are going inside to see if there is anyone else in the building, if we find your son, we will inform you as quickly as we can, is that okay with you?” you gently asked the worried mother since you needed to calm her down in the worst-case scenario that you, your classmates and she had to prepare for.

Looking at you straight in the eye, she timidly nodded at you causing you to present her with a small smile to help calm her down further. “Please, I need you to step away for the time being since there is a possibility that someone has spread a poisonous gas throughout the centre, but I can not give you any more detail than I can offer,” you explained to her causing the mother’s expression to turned into a shocked one before dropping onto her knees as she grew numb.

“Please find my son,” she begged quietly as tears flowed down her face.

“We’ll try our best ma’am,” you answered her before turning back to your classmates as they looked at you with amazed faces since it seemed like you had done this a million times before - like a profession.

‘Let’s hope that one to five per cent change is in your favour’

“Fushiguro, Kugisaki, Gojo, we’re gonna save them!” Itadori announced in a determined tone causing everyone to turn to him with a determined expression on their faces.

“Of course we are,” Kugisaki answered.

ꕥ

All four of you were now walking towards the entrance of Eushi Detention Centre’s Detainee Block 2 after you have given your black cloth bag that was holding your katana for Ijichi to hold since there was no need to hide the weapon anymore.

“Be careful,” Ijichi said, before raising his fingers to prepare the sleeve that was needed to consume the detention centre, so the outside world didn’t see what was going on inside.

Suddenly, a dark blue aura was cast onto the middle of the sky before slowly descending on all sides like a dome covering a plate of food causing the sky to darken to Itadori’s surprise.

“It’s becoming night!” Itadori shouted as he took a full preview of what was going on, leading Fushiguro to take a glance behind him to inform his obvious classmate that it was the veil Ijichi was placing.

“There’s a residential area nearby, so the barrier conceals us from the outside world,” Fushiguro explained, leading Itadori to express his amazement while Kugisaki gave him the irritated look as well comment since it was basic sorcerer knowledge to know what a veil was.

Suddenly, you heard a loud clap that echoed around the area causing you to look in the direction on where you heard it, only to see Fushiguro’s hands be in a position that was familiar to you.

“Demon Dog!” Fushiguro said before a shower suddenly took form from his to summon the white divine dog that you knew so well from the first time you met him to appear as it howled in response. “He’ll let us know if the curse gets close,” Fushiugro informed you all as the dog looked in his master’s direction.

“Oh, I see!” Itadori said in a light tone before he made his way towards the shikigami to pet it’s snow-white while chanting ‘good boy’ to it as he then expressed his gratitude for its support. However, it seemed like the dog was interested in something else as it stood up on its back legs to make its way towards you before whining as if it wanted something from you.

Looking down at the dog that was now staring at you with its yellow eyes, you couldn’t help but rub its head leading it to relish your affection that you were giving it as it moved it’s head further into your palm as if it can get more out of you.

“I think it’s time to go to Fushiguro don’t you think?” you asked the dog in a light tone, causing it to whine for a moment before going back to its master so it was prepared for the mission that it was about to undertake.

Pushing the door open, Fushiguro and Itadori were in front while Kugisaki and you were behind as everyone prepared themselves for what they were about to go into. “Let’s go,” Fushiguro stated before taking the first step leading the dog to follow in next as well for the rest of you.

However, before you took one step closer into the building you realised something was not what it seemed. From what you can recall, according to Ichiji, the building was said to be a two-story dorm and not the one, you were standing in front of right now, there was no possible way, it was too high up.

‘It’s not a maisonette, it’s too advanced for that,’ you thought as you continued to analyse the surroundings before concluding what you had dreaded, ‘it’s an incomplete Innate Domain, meaning the curse has already fully developed!”

“Hold up!” you shouted at the three sorcerers behind you causing them to pause before turning to look at you, only to find you staring up which led them to do the same leading them to realise why you had halted their movements in the first place.

“Right now, we’re in the middle of the development of an Innate Domain! Is there a door behind me?” you asked in a panic, causing everyone to look at you, only to discover the door had disappeared.

“Th-The door’s gone!” Itadori mentioned in a surprised tone causing you to look at him with widened eyes before turning around to only discover he wasn’t lying to you at all.

‘Shit! How the hell am I going to get everyone back safely? They don’t know how to deal with a special grade from what I can tell, let alone an incomplete Innate Domain’

“How?! We just came in through here, didn’t we?!” Kugisaki mentioned in a stutter as she pointed at the direction where the door should have been while Itadori nodded at her with a few cold sweats dripping down his face.

“What do we do? Ah, what do we do about this?” Itadori and Kugisaki sang as they danced in circles, in a way trying to ease their stress and the tension that came along with the whole situation nearly causing you to giggle at the sight.

“It’ll be fine, the dog remembers the scent of the entrance,” Fushiguro interrupted as he looked annoyed at the two dancers, while the mentioned dog looked back to check on everyone.

“Oh, my~” Itadori and Kugisaki warmheartedly expressed before they started to pet the dog once their mood was lifted with them shouted how they were going to give him jerky later and how much of a ‘good boy’ it was, letting the dog once again relish in the attention that it was being present with.

“You are way too calm!” Fushiguro angrily expressed at two since the mood didn’t match the setting they were in at all.

“You really are dependable, Fushiguro!” Itadori expressed with a grin causing Fushiguro to snap out of his anger. “Thanks to you, we’ll be able to recuse people and save ourselves, too!” Itadori then commented, leading Fushiguro to look at the ground before you suddenly decided to take the first step of carrying on since you were being cautious with the three other sorcerers with you.

‘How long has it been since I faced a special-grade in a fight?’

“Let’s keep moving,” the shikigami user commanded in a stern voice since he saw you making the first way through, letting the other two know that they needed to start moving as well.

While walking, there were the eerie echoes of your footstep causing you to wonder where the actual curse was before entering what seemed to be the centre of the domain. However, you suddenly paused leading the other three to wonder why you came to a halt before looking at the sight that you were looking in the direction of.

Being the first one to react, Itadori rushed to what seemed to be someone’s body - well half of it - and maybe as the second victim since there was a full skeleton that was seemed to be curled up in an excruciating way next to the main body causing you to give your condolences to whoever the person was before observing the area around you to make sure the mention special-grade curse wasn’t near at all.

“Atrocious,” Kugisaki commented in disgust as she stared at the corpses insight.

“That’s...three people, right?” Fushiguro questioned as he quickly took note of how many more victims or survivors there could be - if there were any at this point.

Crouching down, Itadori didn’t answer his classmate’s question, as he then tugged on the detention centre’s dark blue uniform to check the person’s identification, only to realise something that he didn’t want to happen.

“Let’s take this body back,” Itadori suddenly stated, causing confusion to rise within the group since they didn’t know what caused the salmon-haired boy to comment something like that.

“Huh?” Kugissaki asked in confusion.

“It’s that woman’s son,” Itadori regretfully stated, causing you to close your eyes before letting out an internal sign of disappointment before coming to the realisation that you weren’t really surprised at the outcome.

‘Sorry, Ma’am, it seemed the one to five chance wasn’t with you for today’

“But…” Kugisaki slowly stuttered out before being interrupted by Itadori as he then explained that the victim’s face wasn’t mangled and that they still had to give the body back to the mother since it wouldn’t be hard to accept that fact without the body, yet before he could carry on with the plan he was unexpectantly coming up with, he felt someone pull him back by the hood causing him to be surprised at the sudden movement.

“We have to find and verify two more, leave that body behind,” Fushiguro once again commanded, which caused Itadori to shout at him back as he didn’t understand why the body should be left behind.

“Quit joking around! We turned around, and the way we got in here was gone! We won’t be able to come back for it later!” Itadori stated.

“I didn’t say come back for it! I said to leave it behind!” Fushiguro argued back in the same volume of tone, trying to make Itadori understand the situation that they were in and it was not possible to bring the body back at all - there was no point to him. “I have no intention of risking my own life to save someone I had no intention of saving in the first place!” Fushiguro frustratingly stated, only leading Itadori to grab his collar in return as a way to rebuke.

“No intention of saving him? What do you mean?!” Itadori asked in a perplexed tone, confused on what Fushiguro meant when it was their mission to save the remaining survivors that might be in the centre right now.

“This is a juvenile detention centre, Jujutsu sorcerers are granted access to all information about the scene beforehand,” Fushiguro declared before continuing his explanation by stating, “this Okazaki Tadashi hit a little girl on her way home from school while driving without a license, it was his second offence of driving without a license,” leading Itadori to look at his friend in vexation and surprise at the news he was receiving about the man he was going to ‘save’.

“I know you’re stuck on saving lots of people and guiding them to proper deaths, but what are you going to do when someone you saved kills someone else in the future?” Fushiguro asked with a stern tone trying to make his point of view understandable to the boy in front of him.

“Then why did you bother saving me?!” Itadori cried out, as a way to rebuke his statement due to the situation of him being the vessel of Ryomen Sukuna, only to gain nothing but silence from the shikigami user in front of him as he tightened the grip on the collar he was grabbing.

“Oi stop being such drags, I didn’t come to Jujutsu Tech to hear your reasons for being a jujutsu sorcerer, get moving!” you demanded in a menacing tone before unhooking your katana that was secured on your lower back horizontally, preparing to use the weapon to separate them.

“Cut it out! Christ, what are you two doing?! You’re both idiots” Kugisaki shouted in equal frustration with you, as she made her way towards the two boys with her fists in the air.

“Think about the time and place if you-”

However, before she could continue the angry rant, she was suddenly sucked into the floor causing you to quickly react by trying to grab her hand, only to be too late when she was fully consumed into the hole that was created.

“Kugisaki?” Itadori called out in confused, only for Fushiguro to become shocked at the new situation that had occurred before turning forwards to see the sudden and dreadful outcome of his divine dog that was supposed to detect if any curses were near leading you to look at the same direction before suddenly feeling a presence of what you should have felt earlier.

‘If those two drags didn’t distract me with their argument, we shouldn’t have to worry about our wellbeing right now!’

“Itadori! L/N! We’re running, we’ll search for Kugisaki la-” Fushiguro panic before you suddenly screamed at both of them.

“DON’T MOVE!” you screamed, once you suddenly made eye contact on the curse that was standing right in near them, causing you to grip on your katana tighter as all three of you stayed completely still while you were coming up with a plan to see if you could put a distance between the curses and your classmate.

Suddenly, you saw Itadori’s shaky hand reach over to his weapon as he unleashed it from the leather casing before violently swinging it to cut the curse in some way, only for the sudden decapitation of his hand to be the result of his attempt causing massive amounts of blood to spill like a fountain.

“Itadori?” Fushiguro's voice shook while you were in the opposite of that mood right now.

Swiftly, you slide your feet around, landing between the boys before raising your katana making sure the tip on the black wooden casing was pointing at the special-grade curse’s face.

“Destructive Curse Spell number one: Sho,” you chanted, causing your curse energy to travel from your arms to the length of your sword before a small shot of cursed energy to thrust its force against the curse’s face leading it to be violently pushed back against the concrete wall before turning towards Itadori with an angered expression, “I told you not to move and you decide to go against me!” you screamed in frustration before quickly turning back to look at the direction on where the special grade was flung in a confused but equally concentrated manner.

‘That curse spell isn’t even that strong, it’s my weakest, yet it managed to make it fly across the room, is it really a special grade by nature…..or did it eat something?’

“I can’t escape after it’s gotten this close! Hey, Sukuna! If I die, you die too, right?” Itadori determinedly asked, causing you to look at him with a startled expression.

‘Does this guy have a death warrant? Are you even listening to me?!’

“If you don’t want that, then help me out!” Itadori commanded leading you to further look at him like he was the craziest person in the world right now.

“Are you stupid?!” you screamed, only for Itadori to ignore you as Sukuna’s eye and mouth appeared on his cheek.

“Nope! Even if the parts of me inside you die, there are eighteen other fragments of my soul. Still, irritatingly enough, I don’t have control of this body, if you want to switch, go ahead and switch,” Sukuna taunted as he continued with his threats, “but once you do, I’ll kill that brat before the cursed spirit can, then I’ll go for that woman, she’s a lively one, I’ll have fun with her then I’ll go to her right there, she seemed like someone that knows how to fight,” leading you to place your weapon inches away from his eye.

“Stop talking, you’re making me lose concentration Sukuna,” you stated in a nonchalant tone before going back to find an explanation on why your cursed technique managed to give so much force to the special grade that was now starting to stand back up on its feet.

“I’m not going to let you do that!” Itadori declared in an inflamed tone, only for the King of Curses to taunt back without any hesitation.

“I bet! But if you’re too focused on me, your friends are gonna die,” Sukuna teased, causing you to look at the small eye and mouth with an annoyed look on your face.

“I said stop talking, you’re making me lose concentration,” you threateningly stated, only to suddenly realise that the special-grade was about to attack once again, leading to your cursed energy to flow from the palm of your hands to the tip of your fingers as your placed you left hand up like you were stopping someone.

“Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku!” you chanted, leading to the familiar large rectangular defensive wall to form in front of you, Itadori and Fushiguro, protecting you from cursed energy that the special-grade it was about to attack you with, but the concrete that wasn’t behind the wall didn’t seem to survive since the concrete turned into debris leaving evidence of its strength for you and Fushiguro to observe.

‘Pure cursed energy? So it doesn’t have any cursed techniques….ah what a drag…’ you concluded before turning to Fushiguro only to see him with widened eyes to that attack causing you to predict that he also thought the same thing as you.

“Fushiguro! Fushiguro! Fushiguro!” Itadori yelled out, trying to get the skikigami user’s attention before his third call caught his awareness as he turned to look at the screaming boy. “Take L/N and Kugisaki and get out of here!” Itadori demanded, causing you to look at him once again with an astonished look on your face, yet before you could grab his red collar in a way to argue his point, Itadori continued with, “I’ll keep this one bust until you three are out, as soon as you’re out, give me some kind of signal and once you do...I’ll switch with Sukuna,” to which Fushiguro screamed at his reckless plan. However, you were too focused on the curse in front of you, wondering why it was considered a special-grade then it took some sort of damage from a weak technique of yours.

As of right now, the curse seemed to be enjoying itself even when you managed to damage it and deflect its attack with two simple cursed spells. There was no point in letting your katana out of its wooden casing, it wouldn't be able to take the damage but there was the situation with Kugisaki being somewhere in the building as well, so there was a risk of taking your weapon out.

‘It’s definitely ate something, but what? There is a chance that it is Sukuna’s finger but that’s rare, besides it seemed like the fool hasn’t sensed anything from it to be his finger’

However, before you could even prepare your next attack to exorcise the curse to end the life and death situation Itadori and Fushiguro were in, you surprisingly felt someone grab your wrist before pulling you away from the battle that you had started leading you to look at the culprit to find out it was Fushiguro, who was dragging you away from the situation.

“What are you doing?!” you shouted before trying to pry your hand away from his grasp, only for him to tighten his hold in a way to not let you escape.

“We’re running, we need to find Kugisaki before giving Itadori the signal to get out of there,” Fushiguro explained in a stressed manner leading you to scream back at him on the thoughtless decision that had been made without your input.

“Are you crazy? You need to take back Itadori and let me fight that curse Fushiguro, he won’t be able to survive at all!” you yelled out in anger.

“Are you the crazy one? We don’t know what grade sorcerer you are and you want to exorcise that thing?!” Fushiguro argued back.

“So what makes Itadori capable? He doesn’t know how to control cursed energy or any techniques, TAKE ME BACK!” you panicked, only for his grip to tighten more at your comment of going back.

No one words were exchanged.

ꕥ

Within a flash, you and Fushiguro managed to grab Kugisaki before she was devoured by the curse she was fighting against while both of you were trying to find her.

At this current moment in time, you were outside the exit with Kugisaki in Ijichi’s arm, Fushiguro on the floor tired from running while you were standing behind the other divine dog that was giving Itadori the signal. However, even though you knew the signal was for Itadori to switch with Sukuna, you were conflicted on the idea leading your body to move forward towards the entrance to enter again.

However, you were stopped by the black dog using its body to push you back, once it was done with the signal it was giving to Itadori.

“Stop it!” Fushiguro stated as he stood up to put his arm in front of you to prevent you from moving forward. However, you were angry, pissed off and frustrated at this point.

“You should have listened to me, you drag!” you screamed at him before gripping the arm that was blocking your path. However, while you were looking at the erratic-haired sorcerer with pure rage in your eyes, Fushiguro was startled about the immense amount of cursed energy that was surrounding you as he was shocked that he didn’t notice it earlier when he had met you, it was alarming and intimidating to him as he didn’t even stand a chance to dominant his over you, it extended in power and strength than he had ever thought it would have.

How did you hide it so well?

ꕥ

Currently, you were at the gated entrance to the Eushi Detention Centre, where you had laid Kugisaki down at the back seats of the car before closing the door to stand in the rain with Fushiguro - much to your annoyance.

“Please explain the evacuation area to ten kilometres,” Fushiguro stated in a serious tone since he didn't know what could happen next since Itadori was still inside the building. Expanding the evacuation area was the best thing to do right now.

“What about you and Gojo?” Ijichi asked in a worried tone as he turned to look at you both through the gap on the window of his car.

“We’ll wait here for Itadori to return,” you stated in a serious tone to which Ichiji understood since you were so adamant to enter back to the building despite the many attempts Fushiguro tried to stop you.

“After I take Kugisaki-san to the hospital, I’ll return as quickly as possible,” Ijichi declared, only for Fushiguro to give a discouraged look to him before stating, “no, there wouldn’t be much point in you-”

“I need you to come back but I want you to stay at least one kilometre away from the evacuation area, at this rate if Itadori has switched, I want you to be as safe as possible but in the end, if you don’t hear from us at least an hour when you come back, go back to Jujutsu Tech immediately,” you interrupted Fushiguro by pushing your body in front of him while giving Ijichi the instructions you needed him to hear since you didn’t know the possible outcome that this was going to go to.

“If you can, please send a grade one sorcerer or higher but that won’t be necessary if I don't die,” you sternly commented, leading both Fushiguro and Ijichi to shiver at the statement you just announced.

Still shaken at what you had just said, Ijichi sent himself off before closing the window to prevent any cold raindrops from coming at him as he drove away from the area you and Fushiguro were standing in right now.

“If you don’t want to listen to me, I ain’t going to listen to you at all then Fushiguro,” you stated with a frown painted on your face before looking back at the building behind his body.

Taking your katana, you looked at the bottom of the handle to find a metal loop at the bottom with a red charm tied before it was simply slowly unwinded by you as you prepared for the worst that was about to come.

“What are you doing L/N?” Fushiguro asked in a worried tone, causing you to turn to look at him with a deadpan expression.

“Just preparing for the worst Fushiguro”

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kjack89 · 3 years

Text

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 6/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage with all the shenanigans, and what comes after the wedding? Why, the honeymoon, of course. This got long, so I had to cut it, and, uh...sorry not sorry in advance for where it ends ;) (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3, chapter 4 tumblr | AO3, chapter 5 tumblr | AO3)

Weddings, though usually happy affairs for the couple and families involved, always bring with them a certain amount of disappointment. Disappointment for suitors who find themselves spurned; disappointment for distant relatives hoping to inherit; and disappointment, perhaps most of all, for you, dear readers, as they usually signal the end of a scandal.

It is thus with a somewhat heavy heart that this Author reports that the wedding between the Marquess of Enjolras and Adélaïde Grantaire has occurred without complication and with seemingly little fanfare. They were wed in a small, private ceremony with two of Mr. Grantaire’s household attendants as witnesses. And, assumedly, Mr. Grantaire himself, though interestingly, this Author has it on good authority that his is not one of the signatures on the marriage certificate as an official witness. An unusual move, to be sure, but nothing about this particular wedding can be otherwise described as usual.

In any case, friends and family alike await the Marquess’ return to the city, though no one seems to have any idea when that event may occur. The Earl of Courfeyrac was overheard lamenting to Viscount Prouvaire that none of their friends were invited or even informed of the wedding before reading it in this very column. Even more unusual than not standing as witness to one’s sister’s wedding may indeed be not informing one’s closest friends of one’s pending nuptials, especially when said nuptials are surrounded by scandal.

Perhaps this illustrates why the Marquess has not yet returned – between his mother and his friends, he is certain to have quite a bit of explaining to do. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 7 MAY 1831

Dinner following the wedding was an understated affair, nothing like the grand feast that Enjolras was certain his mother would have planned had this been a real wedding. And while he and Grantaire carried on their conversation as if nothing much had happened that day, he couldn’t help but feel that something between them had shifted, something he could not quite find the name to but which left him feeling unmoored.

As the evening drew to a close and both men finished their after-dinner drinks (a rather hefty glass of whiskey for Grantaire, a roughly thimbleful amount of cognac for Enjolras, and only grudgingly because they were ‘celebrating’), Enjolras felt like he needed to say something, though he wasn’t entirely sure how to broach the topic.

As usual, he picked the worst possible way.

“What you said earlier,” he started as they headed upstairs from the library, and Grantaire paused, tilting his head slightly as he glanced at Enjolras, clearly waiting for an explanation of what Enjolras could possibly be referring to, and Enjolras flushed slightly before elaborating, “about the wedding night.”

Grantaire straightened, his expression evening out. “A joke, of course,” he assured Enjolras, before adding, with just a hint of a smirk, “After all, I’m not a lord, so I’m not entitled to Primae Noctis.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “That so-called right is apocryphal at best,” he huffed, irritation spiking at the thought of any member of the nobility claiming some kind of right to rape a subject. “Besides which, wouldn’t it only entitle you to sleep with your sister?”

Again, possibly the worst way to continue the conversation, but Grantaire just winked at him. “That’s what you think.”

Despite himself, Enjolras blushed and looked away before clearing his throat. “Rights to the wedding night notwithstanding, I don’t believe I said it earlier today, so thank you. For...everything.”

He hoped he wouldn’t need to elaborate, not because he was incapable of enumerating the great many ways Grantaire had been of service to him in recent days but because he suspected Grantaire was in a mood to turn anything he said into a joke.

To his surprise, Grantaire did not joke in response, instead frowning slightly as he paused at the top of the stairs where they were set to part to attend to their individual bedchambers. “There is no need to thank me,” he told Enjolras. “I would do the same for any of our friends.”

“Would you?” Enjolras asked, more rhetorically than anything, because he suspected they both knew that the answer was contrary to Grantaire’s words. “I asked you once, before, why you were doing this. You did not answer me then, but I thought, given everything that has happened today, you might answer me now.”

Grantaire sighed. “Enjolras—” he started, but Enjolras just shook his head.

“Why did you do all this?”

“Because…” Grantaire trailed off, something unreadable crossing his face, and before Enjolras could so much as blink, he had closed the space between them, reaching up to cup Enjolras’s cheek with one hand, the other closing around Enjolras’s cravat.

And then he kissed him.

This was not the simple pressing of lips together of before, the fumbling move Enjolras had made at the wedding. This was like a fire that seemed to sear through Enjolras from the moment their lips touched, an electricity that sparked an absolute awareness of how Grantaire’s body pressed against his, and above all else, an overwhelming and inexplicable desire to pull Grantaire even closer, to rid themselves of the fabric that were the final barriers between them, or to—

But before Enjolras could react or respond in kind, Grantaire pulled away, looking horrified. “I am sorry, my lord,” he gasped, and there was no trace of his usual joking in his use of the title. “I should not have – forgive me.”

And without another word, he disappeared into his bedchamber, leaving Enjolras standing alone in the hallway, more confused than ever.

----------

Enjolras did not generally consider himself a vain man, but there were a number of things about himself that he took pride in, one of which was his intellect. There was not usually a puzzle that he encountered which he could not decipher, or, at the very least, develop a treatise on the tools needed so that the masses could decipher the puzzle.

But Grantaire was an enigma. Had always been, from the moment they had met, Enjolras a serious boy barely on the verge of manhood, Grantaire a seldom-serious man who, as Enjolras had recently learned, had left boyhood behind long before their meeting. Where Enjolras could understand each of his friends’ motivations, the driving forces that had led them to their group, he had never understood why Grantaire joined them and a cause in which he harbored no belief, and even less why he had stayed over the years.

And yet despite their numerous arguments, the shouting matches that caused the walls to shake or even just the bickering that peppered most of their conversations, he had never once made Grantaire leave.

He understood his reasons for that least of all.

Of course, his kiss with Grantaire, and Grantaire’s reaction to it, might beat it out for things he didn’t understand. Either of his kisses with Grantaire, he realized, since he had also kissed him during the wedding ceremony, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever understand his reasoning for doing that either.

Enjolras stared up at his ceiling, having woken far too early after a fitful sleep the night before. He did not like having a puzzle he could not solve on his hands, especially when he was stuck in said puzzle’s house, far from anything that might put them on some semblance of equal footing.

The longer he stared at the ceiling, the more it became clear to him that if he was going to figure this out, it required a change of scenery for both him and Grantaire, a chance to start anew, so to speak, and see what new developments would emerge.

And there was only one way he could think of to do so.

“I was thinking of leaving,” Enjolras announced at the breakfast table when he had finally deemed the hour late enough for him to arise. He had been strangely gladdened to see that Grantaire also looked tired, as if he too had not slept well the previous night.

Not that the thought of Grantaire not sleeping well should gladden him, but it was at least a small sign that he was not alone in being affected by the events of the previous day.

Grantaire went very still at Enjolras’s words. “Oh?” he asked, in what to Enjolras seemed a deliberately casual sort of way.

Enjolras nodded. “Yes. Madame Hucheloup reminded me that it's customary for newly married couple to take a honeymoon trip, even if just for a few days, and as I am not ready to return yet to the city, this seems an easy excuse to explain my absence in a way that does not draw suspicion like my staying here would.’

Grantaire nodded as well, avoiding Enjolras’s eyes. “Where will you go?” he asked.

“I own a cottage in the north,” Enjolras told him. “I thought I might stay there for a bit.”

Grantaire frowned slightly. “Would not your servants wonder why you are there without your wife?”

Enjolras shook his head. “It's not family property, it's a cottage I bought in my own right. As such, there are no servants, and it's remote enough that I'm not sure anyone with twenty miles has any idea who I am or would care enough to report it to someone who does.” He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to add, for Grantaire’s benefit, “I go up there when I need to work, mostly, or just need to get away from the bowing and scraping and whatever else.”

“Well. That sounds lovely, and I'm certain you will have a good time.”

Enjolras waited a beat before adding, his turn to be deliberately casual, “I thought you might accompany me.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened before he busied himself with a scone. “Would that not be as obvious as you staying here?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I think Madame Hucheloup can manage some convincing tales in the village of you staying here while I journey north with your sister,” he said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“But why?”

Grantaire sounded torn between confusion and curiosity, and Enjolras shrugged again. “You don’t like being here,” he said simply.

“How—”

Enjolras should have realized that Grantaire would be surprised by that observation. He had a reputation, deserved or otherwise, of not paying attention to personal details of his friends, and he flushed slightly. “The way you spoke of your sister, and your father. This place holds no good memories.”

Grantaire’s eyes met his. “It holds a few. And more as of recent.”

“A few, then. But a great many bad ones, I’d wager.” Grantaire did not deny it and Enjolras hesitated before adding, “And I would not leave you alone with that.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, and for one heart-pounding moment, Enjolras thought he might refuse. But then he managed a small, wan smile. “In that case, I shall be glad to join you.”

Enjolras smiled as well, certain that he was one step closer to finding the answers he sought.

----------

It was a long ride up north to Enjolras’s cottage, but where the ride from the city to Grantaire’s estate had been punctuated by their usual conversation, there was none of that today. Silence hung between them instead, as Enjolras thought of a thousand conversation topics and cast them all aside, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

But eventually, the silence grew too much for him to bear, and he blurted, with a forced cheerfulness, “Lovely weather we’ve been having.”

Grantaire stared at him. “The weather,” he said, incredulity lacing both words. “You’re talking to me about the weather.”

“Well, it was that or comment on the jostling of the carriage, I suppose,” Enjolras muttered, feeling himself flush.

“And here I would assume that the jostling of the carriage is nothing compared to the struggle of the people that you champion so regularly,” Grantaire said archly, and Enjolras frowned.

“Are you trying to start this sojourn with a fight?” he asked

Grantaire just raised an eyebrow. “Trying? I do not recall ever needing to exert much energy to get you in an argumentative mood.”

Enjolras’s frown deepened. “Perhaps not, but…”

“But what?”

“But nothing,” Enjolras muttered, not wanting to tell him that he thought things might be different between them now. Different how was the real question, and that was the answer he was endeavoring to find. Of course, maybe nothing was different – maybe Enjolras was reading far too much into one stupid moment and they would return to the city and everything would fall back into place as it always had been.

He hated that he felt almost disappointed at that prospect.

“Tell me about this cottage we’re going to,” Grantaire said abruptly, and Enjolras blinked at him. “It’s only fair, you interrogated me about my home when we were en route there.”

“I’d hardly call it an interrogation,” Enjolras scoffed.

Grantaire’s expression didn’t change. “Maybe not, but the point still stands.”

Enjolras supposed it did. “It belonged to a distant relative of my mother’s,” he said. “A great-aunt, I think, though I only ever knew her as Auntie. It’s a couple of hours by horseback from the northernmost Enjolras family holdings. I was sent there as a child one summer for some fresh air.”

“Fresh air being assumedly in short supply at the Enjolras manor,” Grantaire remarked dryly.

Enjolras barked a laugh. “Truth be told, my parents just wanted me out of the way.” He sighed and shook his head. “My mother had discovered she was carrying another child, and I suppose my father didn’t want me underfoot.”

Grantaire blinked. “I did not realize you had a sibling.”

“I didn’t. My mother miscarried.”

Something tightened in Grantaire’s expression. “I am sorry.”

Enjolras jerked a nod. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “It’s not the same as losing a sibling, of course, but it was still a loss. A loss of possibility, really, of what could have been…” He trailed off and shook his head, his tone turning wistful. “But for one glorious summer, it was just me, in a cottage with no servants, no lessons, no expectations about how I should behave or speak as a future marquess. It was the best summer of my life.”

He shook his head once more to clear it of the memories that rose to the forefront of his mind. “When my mother’s great-aunt died, there were no close relatives to inherit, so the estate was going to pass to some even more distant relation, but I offered to purchase it instead. I used a small inheritance I received when my maternal grandfather died so that it couldn’t be lumped in with the Enjolras holdings. And it’s been mine ever since.”

“It’s not much of course,” he added, and he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to assure Grantaire of that, or to warn him. “Four bedrooms, I think, though one I don’t think I’ve been into in ten years, and another is used for storage. There’s a woman in the village nearby whom I retain to clean it every few weeks.” He paused before adding, suddenly feeling almost tongue-tied, “You’re the first person I’ve ever brought to stay.”

Grantaire looked surprised by that. “Truly? Not even Combeferre or Courfeyrac?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No.”

“I am...touched, I suppose.” Grantaire made a dry noise that might have been an attempt at a chuckle. “Hopefully I’ll not taint your memories of the place.”

“I’m certain you won’t.”

“You say that now, and yet…” Grantaire trailed off, looking almost troubled. “Dare I ask why you’re allowing me to intrude on what until now has been something of a sanctuary for you?”

Enjolras frowned. “I told you, I did not wish to leave you alone—”

“Yes, and it’s a noble gesture, but you know as well as I that I could have returned to the city, or gone any number of places.”

Enjolras made a face. “I do know that you are far more popular than I, yes.” Grantaire laughed and Enjolras managed a small smile before continuing, “I suppose I was looking for us both to get a small dose of reality before we returned to the city.”

Grantaire’s smile disappeared. “Reality,” he murmured, something almost dull in his voice. “Of course.”

“As much as I would love to continue living in this little fiction we’ve spun—” Grantaire did not laugh and Enjolras frowned, wondering if he had somehow said the wrong thing. “Anyway,” he muttered, “that’s why.”

They continued the journey in relative silence after that, and when Enjolras finally spotted the familiar grey stonework out the carriage window, he had never been so relieved. “We’re here,” he announced, rather unnecessarily, as the carriage drew to a halt.

Grantaire stepped out of the carriage and turned automatically to offer Enjolras his hand to help him down. “I can see why you come up here to think,” he said, surveying the rambling moors that extended in any given direction. “No distractions.” He gave Enjolras a mischievous smile. “Are you certain you want me here to ruin all that?”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly after the carriage, which had already left. “Bit late to change my mind, don’t you think?”

Grantaire’s smile faded. “I suppose so,” he murmured, bending to pick up what luggage they had brought and ignoring Enjolras’s protestations that he was perfectly capable of carrying the luggage himself.

Once inside, both men stood a little awkwardly just past the entryway. Enjolras cleared his throat, casting about for a neutral topic. “Shall I make us some tea?” he asked, falling back on manners when all else had failed him.

Grantaire just shrugged. “Don’t feel obligated.”

“I do believe it’s considered good manners when hosting one’s brother-in-law, no matter how fictional the bond,” Enjolras said, aiming for a joke. “Or one’s bride, I suppose, depending on how one wished to look at it.”

But Grantaire didn’t look amused. “None for me, thanks.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, his heart sinking. “How about a tour, then?”

Grantaire shrugged again, but this time seemed inclined to actually go along with it, which was good, as it gave Enjolras at least a little more to drone on about as they made their way through the cottage. Of course, the cottage was only so big, so the tour itself was a brief affair, though Enjolras was somewhat relieved that Grantaire seemed to regain at least some of his good humor as they went.

“So what do you think?” Enjolras asked as they finished the tour in the library.

“It’s not what I was expecting,” Grantaire admitted.

Enjolras glanced sideways at him. “Dare I ask what you were expecting?” he asked, equal parts wary and curious.

“Oh, the usual,” Grantaire said loftily, waving a hand as he plopped down on a sofa. “Threadbare curtains, a straw mattress to sleep on, no decorations…”

“You expected me to live like a monk?”

“Well, the vow of poverty seemed apt,” Grantaire mused before smirking at Enjolras. “Though I suppose were that the case, you would have abdicated your title and its associated lands, properties and incomes long ago.”

Enjolras knew Grantaire well enough to know when he was picking a fight, and he knew this was one of those times, even if he had no inkling of why Grantaire was choosing now to quarrel. Either way, he really did not wish to spend their first night in the north fighting, so he forced himself not to rise to the occasion. “Yes, well, as I am neither monk nor saint, I suppose I can indulge in a few comforts now and then,” he said instead before changing the subject. “I’m going to go down to the village before it gets too late to stock up on some food for our stay. Do you wish to accompany me?”

“No, I think I’ll stay here, see about perhaps getting some painting set up,” Grantaire said, but without much enthusiasm, and Enjolras frowned, unsure why Grantaire’s mood seemed so all over the place.

“Right,” he said. “Well. I’ll be back soon.”

“Pick up some whiskey while you’re down there, would you?” Grantaire asked, in a way that Enjolras couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not.

“And raise suspicions that I’ve suddenly returned as a drunk?” he said, aiming for a joke of his own. “We must keep up appearances, after all.”

But Grantaire just seemed to further deflate at that. “Right,” he said dully. “Appearances, and fiction, and all that.”

Enjolras had no idea what to even say to that, so he took his leave instead, hoping that by the time he returned, Grantaire might find himself in a better mood.

His trip to the village was a brief one, and he brought back enough food supplies for their supper and to break their fast in the morning, with more to be delivered the following day. When he returned, he was pleased to see that Grantaire had lit the fireplace in the kitchen, the library and both bedrooms, though he appeared to have abandoned his quest to paint, as he was instead absorbed in some ancient tome he had found in the library. Their evening was spent in relative but comfortable quiet as Enjolras read through some parliamentary briefings and Grantaire continued perusing the book, as similar an evening as many they had spent together over the years when their meetings had finished and it was just the two of them left in the backroom of the Musain.

But all too soon, Grantaire put the book down and stood. “I am going to call it an early night,” he told Enjolras. “I will see you on the morrow.”

“Of course,” Enjolras said, a little surprised as he looked over at the mantel clock. “Well, I was thinking perhaps we might take a walk tomorrow? Explore nearby and such?”

Grantaire glanced at the window. “It looks like it’s going to rain,” he said flatly, and before Enjolras could respond, he added, “Have a good night.”

All in all, Enjolras reflected when he too went to bed a few hours later, it was not at all what he had expected, and he was beginning to think this was a bad idea.

Still, he rose the next morning determined to make the best of it, only to quickly discover that Grantaire had risen with the opposite attitude, picking at his food over breakfast and staring out at the rain lashing against the window.

His mood only seemed to worsen as the day went on, and as Enjolras busied himself with some accounting work for one of his estates that was well overdue, Grantaire took to pacing impatiently. This would not ordinarily bother Enjolras, who had a tendency to get absorbed in his work, but the cottage was only so big and Grantaire’s pacing could perhaps be better categorized as stomping about.

On his fifth lap past Enjolras’s desk, Enjolras gritted his teeth and tried very hard not to stab his paper with his pen. “I would offer you some entertainment, if I had any to offer,” he said as politely as one could through clenched teeth.

Grantaire snorted derisively. “I am not a child,” he snapped. “I do not need to be entertained.”

Ordinarily, Enjolras would have shot back that Grantaire could have fooled him, as he was certainly acting childish, but he held his tongue, not wanting to cause an argument on only their second day. “Very well,” he said instead, continuing his tone of politeness. “I’ll leave you to your own amusement, then.”

“God, how can there be no alcohol in this entire building?” Grantaire burst. “Not even a single bottle of cooking sherry.”

Enjolras frowned. “Well, seeing as how I very rarely partake…”

“Yes, but surely one as well-bred as you knows to keep refreshments on hand for guests,” Grantaire said sourly.

Comments on Enjolras’s breeding were the fastest way to get under Enjolras’s skin, and he took a moment to stop from snapping. “Certainly, and I’m sure you would enjoy the wine cellar at any of my family’s estates,” he said finally, almost murderously polite. “But since I never imagined entertaining guests here—”

“Torture seems more accurate,” Grantaire muttered, flopping down on the sofa. “And your imagination needs some work.”

“Yes, well, I never dreamed that I would find myself entangled in such an elaborate fiction that would have me bringing you of all people here,” Enjolras snapped, dropping the façade of civility. “Or perhaps the real fiction was imagining that you and I might have an enjoyable time without the aid of alcohol!”

Grantaire cursed and stood. “Well forgive me, my lord,” he snapped, crossing to the door and yanking it open, that neither the real nor the fictional version of myself is not up to your standards.”

“Where in the bloody hell are you going?” Enjolras asked incredulously, half-shouting to be heard over the roar of the storm from the open door.

“Anywhere but here!” Grantaire shouted back, slamming the door after him.

Enjolras cursed as well and rushed to the door, opening it to shout after him. “Grantaire!” he shouted, but the man ignored him, stomping away through the mud. “Grantaire!” Again, there was no answer, and Enjolras lost what remained of his temper. “Fine!” he shouted. “Then I hope you drown out there!:

He slammed the door closed and stormed back to his desk. But he was too incensed to continue working and he didn’t bother sitting down, just crushing the piece of paper he’d been writing on into a ball.

What had he honestly expected? When had Grantaire ever risen to Enjolras’s expectations, and why had he assumed he would start now?

Because the man had kissed him, once? And then immediately fled?

Enjolras had clearly been deluding himself into thinking there was anything more between them when Grantaire could not go an hour without trying to stir up animosity.

Not that he cared. Not that he did not spend the next twenty minutes pretending he did not glance at the door every time the house creaked, expecting or hoping Grantaire had returned. Not that he began to worry, when the clock chimed the hour. Not that he regretted whatever it was he had said or done that had made Grantaire leave.

What had he expected?

Something, anything, to show him that he was not imagining it, that what there was between them was real. Something, anything, to show that Grantaire might feel even just a little bit of what he did.

Something, anything, to prove that Grantaire cared.

And when had Grantaire ever cared about anything?

His fuming might well have sustained him for the entire night, but as one hour crept toward two and Grantaire had still not returned, Enjolras’s anger was rapidly replaced with worry. He had not been joking when he had told Grantaire that there was no one within twenty miles besides the village, and Grantaire could easily have gotten lost, or hurt, or, as Enjolras had shouted at him, drowned in the deluge still downpouring outside.

Enjolras was not entirely sure how he could live with himself were any of the latter options the case.

Resolved, he grabbed a coat from the front closet and went outside, squinting against the rain as he surveyed the horizon for any sign of Grantaire. There was none, but there were footprints, at least, half-filled with puddles of water from where Grantaire had assumedly sloshed through the mud as he had stormed away.

His trail was easy enough to follow, but every step away from the cottage filled Enjolras with trepidation. If anything had happened to Grantaire— If any harm had come to him—

The trail came to an abrupt stop at a large puddle of water that was growing rapidly, and Enjolras heart sank. Any sign of Grantaire would be washed away, surely, or else—

“What in the devil are you doing out here?”

Grantaire had to shout to be heard, especially as a crack of thunder boomed across the moor, but Enjolras had never been so glad to hear his voice, hoarse and tired as it was. He turned to find Grantaire huddled in the lee of a large tree nearby, clearly trying to wait out the worst of the storm and, judging by the mud that stained his trousers and the fact that every inch of him was soaked through, failing miserably.

He looked awful, but to Enjolras, he had never looked more perfect.

“Oh thank God,” Enjolras breathed, crossing to him in three long strides and pulling him into an embrace. “I thought you had gotten hurt, or lost, or—”

Grantaire pushed him away. “Yes, well, now you can see that I’m alright, so you can go—”

“Alright?” Enjolras interrupted, incredulous. “You’re soaked through to the bone! If you stay out here much longer, you’re liable to catch your death.”

“It honestly might be preferable at this rate,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras scowled. “If this is how you’re going to be, I’ve half a mind to leave you here and let you drown.”

“Good,” Grantaire shot back. “At least you’d be showing some hint of your old self!”

Enjolras stared at him. “What in the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “I’ve been nothing but courteous to you this entire trip, while you’ve tried to start a fight at every turn!”

“Of course I have,” Grantaire snapped. “Because fighting is what we do! It’s who we are! And I’ve been trying to prove to myself that nothing has changed, that you’re still you and I’m still me.” Enjolras just stared blankly at him, squinting against the rain, and Grantaire sighed, running a hand across his face which Enjolras was certain accomplished absolutely nothing to clear it of the rain. “But things have changed, and it’s what I never wanted to happen but what I always feared would, if I were ever to be stupid enough to…” He trailed off. “And I can’t stand you being polite to me, it’s driving me absolutely mad, and if it continues for much longer, it may very well kill me before this rain gets a chance to.”

If anything, Enjolras was even more lost than before. “What are you talking about?” he repeated, more a plea than anything, begging for some kind of rational explanation.

Grantaire just shook his head and returned his question with one of his own. “How?” he demanded. “How do you not know?”

If this was a puzzle, Enjolras had grown incredibly tired of trying to figure it out. “Because I’m extraordinarily stupid, apparently?”

Grantaire glared at him, though when he spoke again, the bitterness in her voice seemed directed more at himself than anything. “You really must be, because I’ve been the most obvious idiot of all time.”

Enjolras didn’t know why he bothered asking for a third time, but he couldn’t stop himself. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Grantaire threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “I mean, I’m in love with you, you fool!”

Enjolras gaped at him. “You – what?”

#enjolras #grantaire #enjolras x grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #les miserables #fanfiction #bridgerton au #regency au #canon era #chaptered #developing relationship #fake marriage #part 6

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clnriswood · 3 years

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DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Something Different | Part Four

a/n: so glad to be back! things start getting a bit more, uh, intense -- but stay tuned for p5 bc it’s about to get vv steamy hehe.

tag list: @call-me-banana-bandit @pillowjj @truly-insatiable @natsiboo @justmesadgirl @boredoffmebox @jjjmaybank @jejegu @ superpowereddonut @irritantive @salemlilly @marshmelloyellow02 @puffymints @is-it-really-a-secret @i-mmunity @sebastiansass @hisoldlover @kyobien @averagefangirl21 @inurealiyah @fuzzzwald @lesfleursmonet @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive

If matters had been bad between Draco and the girl before, it was safe to say that the strength of their bond now was at an all time low, underground, even. On his end, she was a thieving traitor who was joined in Potter’s ranks against him, and in hers, he was a treacherous snake who was incapable of trust and had been solidified into his cruel habits. Their last encounter, at quidditch tryouts, had been the worst yet. It went something like this: Draco, as he left the field of Slytherin’s recently finished tryouts, jeered some nonsense about “any old fool who can swing a bat (Y/N played the role of beater) being allowed onto the team,” which was met by a swift reply from Y/N, who suggested cooly that Draco’s groin should be her bat's next target. This had led to quite the eruption of bickering between both of the teams, one which Madam Hooch, who was entirely fed up with both houses, abruptly put an end to. After that, the girl simply rode the wave of Draco Malfoy induced rage, and during the tryouts, envisioned the barrelling quaffles to be differing versions of his arrogant head. Shockingly, by an act of God, it had worked. Or, not really. Really it was months of training with Cedric over the summer that won her a place on the team, but, well, the rage certainly helped. And yet, despite it all, a nagging truth scratched relentlessly at the back of her brain. And this truth was that somehow, despite it all, Draco Malfoy was the thing of which she was apparently most attracted to.

“Whaddya reckon?” the voice of Ronald Weasley interrupted the girl’s drifting thoughts.

She and her three Gryffindor comrades had just escaped to the side of the Great Lake following the end of their first week of classes. Desperate to get the last of the sun before the soon to come autumn leaves and grey skies, the quartet had stripped free their thick robes and laid out a crimson picnic blanket upon which they sat surrounded by goods. Around them, other Hogwarts students of every year had done the same. With bellies now full, they’d thrown themselves happily back, their chins all turned towards the bright blue sky. As it was, Ron sat beside Hermione, who sat beside Harry, who sat beside Y/N. As they watched the ginger, he jovially made a stream of rainbow colored bubbles fly forth from the tip of his weathered wand.

“What’re you going to kill Voldemort with multi-colored bubbles?” Harry choked on the last pumpkin pastie with a snort.

“Harry!” Hermione scolded, poorly attempting to conceal her own giggles.

“Laugh all you want,” Ron said, “some girl is going to fancy this, I’m telling you.”

Suddenly Hermione wasn’t laughing at all, and she’d gone quite pink, the girl noticed. Next to her, Harry turned into his elbow to cough, which was really just an attempt to cover the big stupid grin he was wearing. The girl chuckled and batted him away with the back of her hand. He winked in reply.

“I want to go for a stroll,” Harry beamed suddenly, sitting upright in a flash.

“Lovely, shall we come?” Hermione began to stand.

“No!” he protested quite loudly. Then, “sorry, just want a quick chat alone with Y/N, if you don’t mind.”

The girl arched a brow at the jet black haired boy beside her, reluctantly standing and throwing Hermione a confused stare as she padded slowly alongside Harry and away from her other friends. The boy drifted farther from the patch of red blanket and closer to the water’s edge, where the grass was long, green, and swampy around their shoes. For a moment, the girl caught sight of one of the Giant Squid’s long tentacles, and she watched as it went sweeping against the surface of the black water and sending ripples across its inky surface.

“What is it then?” she said when they had gotten far enough away.

“What is what?” Harry said stupidly.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she replied gruffly.

“Ah,” Harry scoffed and shook his head, “just said that so we could give Ron n’ Hermione some time alone together.”

“Oh?” the girl answered quizzically.

“Totally fancies him,” he continued excitedly, “not that she’s ever going to admit it, mind you.”

The girl felt her lips split, “really?! I did always wonder… though I couldn’t be sure.”

“I’ve spent the last five years watching those two fight, believe me, I am,” he wrinkled his nose with a grin. “Duck,” he added.

Without hesitation, the two friends bent their knees, covering their heads as the Giant Squid sent a tentacle soaring into the air and slapping the water, making millions of airborne droplets come cascading over them. Knowing the system well by now, the girl snapped her wand up, creating a clear arc above herself and Harry. The dazzling white stream of magic sheltered them safely from the Squid’s tidal wave, repelling all liquid outwards from its top. From around the shore, the sound of unsuspecting student cries of surprise echoed loud in reply.

“Anyways,” the girl stood cooly, like nothing had happened, “I assume this means I shouldn’t be saying anything of it to Hermione?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, “she’d throw herself into the lake if she knew we knew.”

The girl laughed. He wasn’t wrong.

For a few minutes they walked, quiet as they enjoyed the hot sun on their skin. Behind them, though she only snuck a quick glance, Ron and Hermione were bickering; apparently Hermione had made bigger bubbles than Ron and he’d taken it as a personal attack. The girl shook her head, letting the moment pass her and the fresh air flow through her lungs before she spoke again.

“Harry,” she started nervously, “there er, is something I actually wanted to speak to you about.”

He stopped walking, sinking his hands into the pockets of his pants as he sighed deeply with understanding, “you mean you causing a row with Malfoy?”

The girl froze in her tracks, “you knew about that?”

“Well apparently you weren’t too quiet about it,” he smiled half-heartedly. “I just… don’t understand what you were doing with him in the first place,” he admitted.

The girl felt her throat go hard, “dunno that myself, really.”

He blinked at her with his big green eyes, awaiting her explanation patiently.

“I- I just,” she started unconfidently, pausing to think. “I’d noticed there was something off about him. I just wanted to see what it was about.”

“And you think Malfoy’d tell you if there was?” Harry said, voice thick with doubt.

“Well, yes,” she admitted. “I know because he -- well, because he kind of told me so.”

Harry’s mouth dropped, “he did?”

“Yes,” she repeated, feeling her face prickle with warmth.

“So what does he,” Harry began, bewildered, “does he fancy you or something?”

“No!” the girl blurted, tucking her windswept hair behind her ears and finding her eyes suddenly glued to the muddy ground. “Of course not!”

“That’s brilliant!” Harry realized, ignoring her completely as he came quickly to an understanding of how this newfound information could play to his advantage, “and what did he tell you?!”

“Erm,” she gave a weak sigh, eyes back on him, “he said he knew I was working with you and told me to shove off, basically.”

Harry’s expectant smile faltered, “oh.”

“Yeah,” she gave him a reluctant glance.

“But you’re not,” he said confusedly.

“Yes I know that,” she echoed.

“Oh,” he said again.

Harry began walking once more, letting his thoughts brew a little before he continued. The sun’s rays were hitting his glasses hard, sending bright beams of light refracting off of them. The Gryffindor chewed his lower lip thoughtfully and gave his head a scratch.

“So then, if that was all, what was it that you’d wanted to tell me?” he said at last.

“I wanted to ask you how I could help,” she said, folding her arms over her chest and keeping her eyes forward on the nearing edge of the lake.

“You want to help me?” he asked.

“Course,” she shrugged. “I still believe he’s off, or up to something at least. And you seem to be the only other one around here who's noticed it, I’ve heard.”

“You’re right,” he affirmed, “and given that Malfoy’s got some sort of soft spot for you or something, I bet you’d have more luck than me finding out what exactly that is.”

“Er, yes,” she voiced hesitantly. “Only, I think I stomped the soft spot out when I called him a fool,” she said. “And he seemed to have taken it a bit personally.”

“Has he?” Harry said with mock surprise.

“You know he spat on me in the hallway the other day?!” she recalled suddenly. “I mean, literally spat on me. Him and his goons were by the courtyard when it happened,” she recounted sourly.

“Ah, the Malfoy rain,” Harry grinned knowingly.

“The what?!” she gaped.

“Ron calls it that,” Harry continued without hesitation, “because it’s like rain… but from his mou-”

“Disgusting!” she gave her friend a shove, making him cackle.

“I’m surprised this is only your first time,” he chuckled, “I’ve been getting the treatment since my first year.”

“That’s foul,” the girl curled her lip.

“Yes, well,” Harry shrugged, unfazed.

The boy-who-lived adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his skinny nose before stopping at the water’s edge. The surface had gone completely still, making the water look like nothing more than a black sheet of paper. It was beautiful, she thought. Harry stared too, before turning back to her, his smile gone and his face hardened with seriousness.

“Y/N,” he started softly and gave a stiff sigh. “Whatever he says, or whatever he does, that soft spot is still there. Vulnerability like that doesn’t just go away, y’know?” he said. “If he had it before, he can get it again.”

The girl looked at him. There seemed to be some kind of knowing in his green eyes. It made her heart lurch nervously.

“And how might that happen?” she asked.

Harry shrugged, looking her dead on, “you’ll just have to make him get it back.”

. . .

“Well,” she tried, “how do I look?”

The girl stood before a large gold framed mirror in her room, her other self glaring steelily back at herself from within the reflective surface. It was late in the afternoon now. Yolky orange light rays seeped from the half-circle windows that encircled the girl’s bedroom and filled the space with a hot haze. One window, with its peeling paint flakes, had been forced open, providing a comforting breeze and the smell of fresh grass to the dormitory room. The circle shaped room, with its exposed brick walls, thick cream carpets, and vine stuffed walls, seemed like the nicest place for her to be at the moment. But, with Slughorn’s unfortunate dinner party approaching at an alarming rate now, the girl was soon to depart and had found her stomach turning faster and faster the closer her deadline approached. Truthfully, she’d take reading an old book whilst tucked sleepily away into her thick sheets over this charade any day of the week. And, judging by the look on her face, this feeling wasn’t one she was successfully concealing. The girl curled her fingers over her faded wooden dresser, sucking in a slow breath as she reluctantly brought her glittering eyes back up to the mirror before her.

She wore a flowing sheer cream dress, one with long sleeves and little patterns embroidered into its circumference. Wanting to stay casual, she’d thrown on her usual scuffed black boots, but swapped her school socks out for ruffle trimmed white ones that peeked over her shoe’s tops. Her hair was in its usual messy state atop her shoulders, too. Behind her, Hannah Abbott stood with her arms crossed, her head tilted as she looked her friend over.

“Erm-” Hannah started unsurely.

“Oh no,” she said, turning around with wide eyes, “is it that awful?”

“No!” the blonde assured her with a wave of her hand. “Just, well, come here.”

The girl stepped timidly closer, nervous as her friend procured her wand, looked her over, and then gave it a flourish. First, the girl’s hair started magically flattening, before finding itself lifting dreamily from her shoulder tops and into a thick bun, one with a huge loose french braid on its side, and with stray pieces dangling at the front to frame her face. Smiling with like, Hannah then stuck her tongue cheekily out and shortened her friend’s dress a noticeable chunk of inches, so that it stopped flirtatiously at the tops of her legs.

“Oi!” the girl laughed in embarrassment, throwing her hands nervously over her front.

“Oh loosen up,” the blonde giggled, looking pleased with her work.

“I’m rarely out of robes,” the girl huffed, turning back to the mirror.

“Exactly,” her friend said from over her shoulder. “You only get so many chances to show those legs off to Cedric Diggory.”

“WHA-” the girl clapped a hand over her mouth in shock, spinning around. “HANNAH!?”

“Oh please,” Hannah said, sinking down onto the plush yellow quilts that were draped over her bed. “Like I haven’t seen him trying to sneak a peak before.”

She felt her face go red quite suddenly, “excuse me?”

Hannah smirked, leaning against one of the four oak posters that closed in around her bed. She twirled her hair around a finger with glee as she blinked slyly at her friend. Wordlessly, she closed her eyes and waved her friend off towards the Common Room.

“Well,” she shrugged, “go on then!”

The girl glared daggers at her unattentive friend as she cautiously approached their room’s door frame. She stuffed her hands in her dress pockets nervously, her feet feeling as if they were sinking through the now goo-like floor with every step. The green vines that trickled down the large woody door waved their tails in an encouraging goodbye.

“Well,” the girl decided with a smile, “I’m going to throw up.”

“At least wait til’ you’ve gotten out of our bedroom,” Hannah said, leaning back in bed with a sigh. “I’m not cleaning up your vomit.”

She snorted, shaking her head as the door slammed tight behind her, and she went tapping quietly down the stone staircase and out into the Common Room. There weren’t many students around, as many of the non Slug Club members had the luck of eating their normal meals and going about their usual after-dinner-weekend plans, unlike her. Cedric was already awaiting her however, and he looked incredibly dashing in his white button up shirt. The shirt was peppered with little black dots, and had its first two buttons undone, so as to expose just a hint of the god-like collarbones Cedric was sporting. His gold streaked chestnut hair was stood just a little straighter than usual, like he’d attempted to neaten it before giving up shortly thereafter. Still, it was quite cute.

When he saw her, Cedric’s face became the sun, his lips splitting into that dazzling smile, and dimples coming to life across his lightly bronzed skin. From above her, one of the hanging plants whistled, not for the first time that year, she noted.

Cedric tilted his head towards the creature, “yeah, what it said.”

The girl chuckled, off put by the flattery and finding it hard to keep looking at the deathly attractive boy before her.

“Ced,” she protested bashfully, worming her fingers nervously around in her dress pockets.

He smiled wider, if possible, and put his own hands timidly into the pockets of his black pants.

“Sorry,” he chuckled warmly, letting her come to him. “You look lovely.”

They met in the centre of the Common Room. With the sun practically set now, the only light was from the flickering of the massive fireplace’s flames, which cast shadows over the hollows of her friend’s cheeks, jaw, and lips. For a moment, neither said anything. Instead, they just looked at each other. It was Cedric who cleared his throat first.

“Erm,” he said, “shall we?”

“O’course,” the girl responded awkwardly, trailing Cedric out of the Common Room and into the deserted halls.

The two were quiet as they made their way around corners and over moving staircases. Neither spoke, or looked at each other, really. Halfway up a moving staircase, Peeves had attempted to toss a water balloon onto the two, but Cedric stopped the thing midair and sent it flying back at the ghost, who cackled as it went through his stomach and splattering against a wall. The two friends couldn’t help but give a laugh there. One of the portrait’s, which was just nearly missed, screamed defiantly at the friends in protest. Then, about a minute later, Cedric and Y/N turned into the corridor outside Slughorn’s, where they ran into none other than Harry and Hermione.

“Hullo,” Harry grinned.

“Mate,” Cedric scrunched his nose with a smile, the two boys clapping a hand together in greeting.

“Y/N!” Hermione beamed, “you look lovely! You too, Cedric.”

Hermione was wearing a pale pink blouse, Harry a black button up. Both looked nice for the occasion. Also, both looked a little nervous.

“You as well,” Cedric and the girl replied in unison.

Hermione smiled, mumbling, “nothing really,” or something like that.

Harry, uninterested, had jerked his head towards the girl, “I take it you’re not interested in being here, either.”

“How’d you know?” she chuckled with a roll of her eyes.

“Well, me n’ you are only here because Slughorn fancies our dead parents-” he began.

“Harry!” Hermione gaped, slapping her friend upside the head so as to shut him up.

The girl let out an explosive cackle, going weak in the knees with laughter, “he’s not wrong you know.”

Harry rubbed his head as he flashed his teeth at her and raised a hand for her to slap hers against. She did, making the two only laugh harder.

“You two are awful,” Cedric said with alarm, gaining a supportive nod from Hermione.

It had seemed that the group’s commotion had drawn the attention of Professor Slughorn, who poked his head out from around the entrance of his room. He wore, on his body, a quite excessive frayed brown blazer with his black pants, and on his face, an almost terrifyingly supportive smile. When he smiled in such a way, his forehead creased with a set of expressive little lines, and he looked somewhat like a happy frog, she thought.

“Dear boys and girls, you’ve arrived!” he declared loudly.

“We have,” Harry echoed in an obvious reply.

“Come in! Do come in!” Slughorn chuckled joivally, ushering his students into the room he’d cleared for them.

It was an interesting sight to see. In the middle of the room, a huge polished oak table had been set up, around which just over a dozen large and eloquently carved wood chairs stood. Students of every house had gathered; notably, Blaise, one of Draco’s henchmen, and Neville, their friend. The table had been filled with large glass mugs, which were topped to their brims with seven massive scoops of decadent chocolate ice-cream each, atop which were further chocolate shavings. Neville, who looked just about ready to faint, sighed in heavy relief as his friends pulled aside chairs next to his own. Instantaneously, Slughorn began his unsurprising fire of questions. First he spoke to two dark haired Ravenclaws the girl was unfamiliar with, then the boisterous Marcus Belby, and finally he landed his beady little eyes on Hermione.

“My parents are dentists,” Hermione blurted nervously when Slughorn asked of her.

The girl slid her mug forward, dipping her silver spoon uninterestedly into the dessert and swirling it around dismissively. Beside her, Cedric was taking polite tastes of his desert, and, beside him, Harry was uncomfortably shoving spoonfuls worth of ice-cream down his throat. The girl snorted, elbowing her friend, who snapped his gorgeous hazel eyes to hers, his lips crinkling into a little smile as he shifted his attention over to Harry. Cedric nudged Harry, who lifted his chocolate covered face up slowly.

“What?” he said defensively, his voice low so as to be unheard as Hermione continued speaking.

“Is that a dangerous profession?” Slughorn asked the frizzy haired brunette.

“Erm… no,” Hermione said awkwardly.

Everyone, including Cedric, stared at her in awkward silence.

“What’s a dentist again?” Cedric said through the corner of his mouth.

On either side of him, Harry and Y/N tried miserably to stifle their giggles. Luckily for them, a perfectly timed interruption shifted the attention away from the two, and instead to Ginny Weasley, who had just entered the room sporting a cute black dress and some unfitting red eyes. Harry scooted loudly back in his chair, emitting a deathly screeching sound that matched perfectly with the absolute silence of the room. Hermione put a hand over her mouth, a smile spreading beneath her fingers.

“Ah, Miss Weasley,” Slughorn beamed, “come in!”

“Sorry,” she replied through a mumble, “not usually late.”

Harry let out a loud grunt and scooted back forward in his chair as if unaware he’d done anything odd. The girl looked first at the-boy-who-lived, then to Ginny, her brows furrowing in confusion as her eyes travelled. Next she looked to Cedric, who mirrored her expression, and finally to Hermione, who flickered her eyes indicatively at the two Gryffindor’s before turning her nose back to her food.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Slughorn said loudly, refocusing his attention once again to the girl.

Her eyes darted forwards to her professor, “yes, sir?”

“Your parents,” he said, “tell me a bit about them, will you?”

It had been expected, of course. But she’d dreaded it nonetheless.

“I’d rather not, sir,” she tried.

“Please,” the old man quite literally begged.

“Uh, well erm, she started awkwardly, not knowing where to begin. “They both died when I was quite young-”

“Yes, actually about that,” Slughorn fed in, “how was it your father passed? There was little heard of him after he joined You-Know-Who’s ranks.”

The girl was quite taken aback. How bold of him. Actually, how rude.

“Er,” she blinked frustratedly, “an explosion, I think.”

“Go on,” the professor encouraged.

Everyone, not just Y/N, it seemed, wasn’t comfortable with such a discussion. What was the point of asking such things? How did this add a shine to his little collection of trophy students? Mostly, though, how was it that the man was so oblivious to his indiscretion?

“The Ministry notified me about it when it happened. He took out a bunch of muggles with himself, they said. Only, they didn’t do much reporting on him because...”

“Because?” Slughorn persisted.

“Sir-” she tried again.

But the professor looked absolutely carefree as he took a large spoonful of ice cream in with a wave of his small chubby hands, “do tell us, Y/N, we all want to know.”

The eyes of every student in the room were glued eagerly to her, whether in mild interest, discomfort, or both.

The girl felt her whole body heat up. She’d never disclosed the second part of that story with anyone before, let alone a whole damned Slug Club. Flustered, she blinked rapidly, turning her head left, right, and back left again, as the left was where the door was. And by God, did the door look good at that moment. She could feel the blood rushing to her ears, her feet preparing to bring her to a sprint, a nervous glimmer soak her brow, and yet, just as she’d decided to stand and run, something stopped her.

Beside her, the girl felt one of Cedric’s large hands snake under the table and take a reassuring hold of her wrist. It caught her off guard, the way he’d so swiftly done it. The boy’s long fingers dipped straight into her own, first landing on her wrists for a soft little rub, then sliding right up into her palms, where he closed his fingers in on her own. His hands were wam. Warm and rough. This settled her hard beating heart, if only for a moment. And that was all she needed.

“Sorry professor,” she responded flatly, “but no.”

Her eyes scanned those of her classmates more confidently, and most all of them glittered back proudly in reply. Across from her, Slughorn released a disappointed sigh, before continuing on his little train of questions and peppering Cedric with his next rounds of interrogation. Of course, Cedric was as cool, calm, and collected as ever. The boy put on his most handsome and proud lopsided smile as he answered the professor’s questions of -- well, honestly she wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. For while he spoke, Cedric had released her fingers and found himself absentmindedly tracing the patterns on his friend’s hand, not that anyone could have known. And she, incredibly flustered, but more comforted than anything, let him. Only when dinner ended did the boy retract his touch.

. . .

“Excellent,” Harry declared, the second they’d stepped foot outside of the dungeon. “You were excellent, Y/N.”

The jet black haired boy gave his friend a huge slam of appreciation to the back. He, Cedric, Hermione, Neville, and Y/N were making their tired escape from Slughorn’s party. Together, the group made their defeated and slumped ascent out of the dungeons.

“Thanks, Harry,” she half laughed and half grumbled. “I couldn't have done it on my own.”

Her large bright eyes flickered up to Cedric’s glowing ocean ones, and they twinkled adoringly at her in silent communication. Beside her, Hermione raised a quizzical brow, though, truth be told, Y/N wasn’t paying her much attention at that moment.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be getting an invite back, though…” she’d muttered dryly.

“It’d be his loss,” Cedric fired back confidently, earning a half smile from his favorite girl.

She’d gone to say something else, but her lips had hardly opened when she saw him.

Draco. Draco, with his snow white skin and blue-grey eyes, was heading their way. This was unsurprising, given that they were on Slytherin’s side of the castle. Honestly, he was the last thing she’d wanted to be confronted with at that moment, and judging by the look on his sallow face, it went both ways. As he drew nearer and nearer, his hands stuffed into the black folds of his robes, she waited for the blades of his sharp words to slice her, for him to mouth insults her way as he had so frequently loved to do. But, shockingly, the boy was quiet. In fact, it seemed he had no plan to say anything, but rather to snake right past them, silent and unheard, like a figment of their imagination. He’d almost done it, actually, but the girl had other plans.

“What?” she said, stopping dead in her tracks.

Draco had just passed her, and gone deathly still.

She turned on her heel, asking again, “what? Not going to say anything?”

The boy turned slowly to face her, his icy eyes narrow with dislike, his teeth clenched so hard she could see the definite pulse of his hard jawline beneath his porcelain skin. Beside her, her friends all warily stopped walking, their faces clouding with concern. Apparently, they all thought it better to not acknowledge his existence. The snow white boy blinked silently, keeping his pale lips pressed harshly together.

“What? So now that you don’t have any goons around, you’re no longer interested in making a show out of us?” she asked with a bitter chuckle.

Malfoy’s nostrils flared, a hard grimace taking shape on the curvatures of his perfect mouth.

“You know what I think, Draco? I think you don’t actually care for it. I think you only do it for others to maintain some sort of facade. And I think, you’re too cowardly to face us alone.”

“Y/N,” Hermione tried, “don’t fire him up.”

Draco flickered his narrowed eyes to Hermione, then settled back on Y/N’s. Finally, he spoke.

“Much to Granger’s disappointment,” he started softly, “you don’t have the power to fire me up.”

Her lips split into a sour smile, “don’t I?”

“Y/N,” Cedric huffed with concern, “just drop it.”

Now Draco’s eyes were on Cedric.

“You, however,” he drawled, “are all very easy to fire up.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retaliate, but, as she should have expected, was beaten to it.

“Diggory,” he began, “congratulations on giving your little girlfriend an express pass onto the Hufflepuff quidditch team. I expect she returned the favor nicely with her mouth.”

Cedric flushed a bright red, his nostrils flaring, and eyes growing cold with distaste. This enraged Y/N, yes, but it enraged Cedric more. Before he had the chance to fight back, however, Draco was onto his next target.

“Mudblood,” he mouthed, addressing Hermione. “Did it hurt when Potter here beat your pompous, self righteous self to the Felix Felicis? Is that why you’ve told everyone that he cheated his way to it?”

“N-no,” Hermione replied unconvincingly.

“Shut up,” Neville added.

“You,” Draco chuckled, snapping his attention mechanically to Neville, his lashes fluttering to the beat of his laughter. “Longbottom, please. You’re so pathetic, I could almost find the sympathy to feel bad for you. Everyone can. But, I really needn’t say anything for you to know that, do I?”

Harry had a hand on his wand now.

“Go ahead,” Draco dared, focusing now on the boy-who-lived. “You’re awfully more of a milksop than one would expect of a Gryffindor,” he said, “so you won’t. Especially not on my side of the castle, where you’d be under professor Snape’s jurisdiction.”

He had a point. About that second part, of course. Slowly, Harry released the grip on his wand.

And then Draco’s eyes were back on the girl, and they were a cold stormy gray, touched lightly with a hint of mild intrigue. The girl felt her fingers shaking now, practically aching to take form into a fist. But she had to stand her ground. She had to prove his lack of power over her.

“And you,” he finished with a heavy sigh. He brought his eyes up to her friends before saying his next words. “As of late, this little thing has been of most interest to me.”

Everyone seemed to have frozen in place, including Y/N, who was capable only of blinking up angrily at him, her jaw tilted up so as to be able to reach his searing and curious gaze.

“And d’you know why?” he arched a silver-blond brow, stepping closer to her.

He looked like he wanted to touch her. Wanted to force her jaw up within the tight grasp of his hands. Wanted to step close enough that her heaving chest would bump against his own. But a flicker of his eyes to her friends stopped him, and instead he just stood there, about a foot apart from her, his hands still buried in his pockets.

“Because,” he continued bemusedly, “unlike everyone else here, you have a secret.”

“And what’s that?” she dared lowly.

Draco’s lips split into an awful, cruel, smile.

“You like having me put you in your place.”

There was silence.

The girl wanted to speak. She’d tried. But only a mute and incoherent stutter toppled forth from her agape lips.

“Fascinating,” his lips stretched wider yet, his voice dropping lower yet, “isn’t it?”

And then his hands withdrew from his pockets. Draco let his slender and silver ring clad fingers find themselves on the bend of his knee as he lowered his height so as to be level with the girl’s fiery stare. For a moment, he just let the blazing blue sear of his scrutiny make its way across her face. She could smell his cologne invading her lungs, the inexplicably alluring scent of Draco Malfoy growing vile to her. He lowered his voice, then, so that only she could hear his almost inaudible murmur.

“This little game of ours,” he whispered. “I quite enjoy it.”

Then he raised a finger, a long and slender index finger, and tapped the tip of her nose.

She just stared at him, and it was a long and wordless encounter. His icy blue eyes pierced straight through her own and into the depths of her soul. He seemed eager to see her either crumble beneath him or expel with rage, but what he did not expect is what she said next.

“Incendio.”

Suddenly, her dress was on fire.

Draco leapt back in surprise, his brows knitting as the base of the girl’s cream colored clothing went up in flames. Around her, her friends all gawked and toppled back in shock. In her right hand was Draco’s wand, plucked straight from his pocket only a moment ago.

“Catch,” she grinned, throwing the boy his wand.

The blond chuckled in bitter surprise, “and what does that achieve?”

“A spell search will reveal that you just casted a fire charm on me,” she gaped in mock shock as she extinguished the flames on her dress with a newly learned Aguamenti charm.

Beside her, the faces of her friends told her they were utterly lost. But it was alright, they’d soon find out what had happened.

Draco let loose a chuckle, “and you think Snape is going to believe that, from you?”

“Sure I do,” she shrugged, “because I also did.”

“What-” he began.

“Incendio!”

Now it was Draco whose clothes erupted in flames. Quickly, he stifled the orange licks up his robes with his own water charm. Now it made sense. The boy’s pale face had gone flush with rage upon realizing what she’d done.

“Oh no,” she shrugged sarcastically.

And then they heard the footsteps. No doubtedly, Snape was on his way to see what the commotion was about. From behind her, her friends all gaped, impressed. Then, on her command, they took their cues and bolted, cackling as they disappeared down the hall and away from the scene of the crime. In front of her, Draco’s mouth trembled with a newfound sense of rage. His white and slender figure slumped slowly with defeat, knowing he’d been outsmarted.

“What?” she teased.

He practically snarled, his eyes alight with a blazing hatred.

“I thought I couldn’t fire you up, Draco?”

. . .

“Our detention will be next week!” the girl exclaimed.

Beside her, Julian, Hannah, and Ernie all roared with approval, the group meeting their large mugs of butterbeer together in celebration. After being issued a lovely disciplining from professor Snape, the girl had headed back to the Common Room in her tattered dress, only to enter a hero to her friends, who’d heard of the encounter from Cedric. Together, by the light of the dying fire, the group celebrated the girl’s triumph over Draco Malfoy. She could only assume that somewhere, on the other side of the castle, a set of Gryffindors were doing the same.

Now, by the dim light of the fire’s embers, the group had jovially devoured a set of gooey celebration biscuits and leaned back lazily in the overstuffed armchairs of the Hufflepuff Common Room. From above and around them, plants snored lazily as they embarked upon their nightly slumber. Slowly, one by one, her friends departed for their beds, until it was only Cedric and Y/N who remained in the Common Room. Cedric was unusually quiet as they left. In fact, he’d been unusually quiet the whole evening. It’s not that she hadn’t noticed, but rather that she didn’t want to. And so, upon being left alone with him, she said nothing. Finally, after a minute of deathly awkward silence, he spoke.

“So. What was all of that about then?”

He’d said it softly. And not the way he usually did when he spoke softly to her. No, he sounded outright disappointed in her.

“What d’you mean?” she arched a brow at him.

Cedric sat stiffly upright on the squashy yellow couch, his ocean blue eyes set forward in thought. His previously neat goldish brown locks had found themselves resuming their usual messy state atop his head, with one little curl springing forth attractively upon his forehead. He still wore his button up, but his hands were folded gently upon his lap in an odd manner.

“I mean,” he continued softly, “why would you do what you did tonight?”

He turned now, his stare intense as it bore into her own. The girl found her throat closing up, and her chest tightened with uncomfortability.

“You went explicitly out of your way to rile Malfoy up. And then- and then you make some feat of landing yourself in detention with him.”

“It was about time someone stood up to him-” she began.

“No, but that’s not why you did it,” he interrupted, hurt.

She didn’t know how to respond to that, or to him, really. The boy looked weakened, his handsome figure bent over with a sort of sadness, casting a rather sad looking silhouette over the dark wooden floors of the Common Room. She’d opened her mouth, but upon meeting his eyes, stopped. They were strained. They were strained and ever so softly moistened with hurt.

“Is it?” he asked, more quietly this time, the look on his face desperate for her next word to be ‘yes.’

But it wasn’t.

“I don’t know,” she admitted begrudgingly, her shoulders falling. “Something about him just gets me going, Ced. Now more than ever. It’s- It’s because I know he’s capable of better.”

“Is he?” Cedric said with a raise of his brows.

Cedric, more than anyone, knew how to see the good in people. And Cedric, now, voiced doubt for the redemption of Draco Malfoy.

“There’s just something different,” she exhaled, feeling far too guilty to hold her friend’s gaze.

“I see that now,” Cedric agreed. “I do.”

She blinked up curiously at him.

There was an eerie silence. Aside from the faint chirping of crickets, the rustling of the flora and fauna upon the stone walls, and the gentle crackles of the dying fire, the only thing to be heard was her own faltering breath.

“But not about him,” he said. “About you.”

Her heart sank.

“I see it, you know?” he murmured lowly. “I see the way you look at him.”

“Ced-” she tried.

But he wasn’t having it.

“And I know in that… in that look, you know?” he continued. “There’s something different.”

Her heart was racing now. Cedric had never talked like this to her before, and the feeling was one she was unfamiliar with. And then there was the way he was looking at her, which hurt. It hurt because he was hurting. It hurt because she didn’t know why it hurt him. And then, this certainly wasn’t a revelation the girl had either expected or wanted to be confronted with, of course. But more to the point, to have it told to her like this, by the person she loved most in the world, was too much.

“How would you know that, Ced?” she murmured, the sound of hot blood in her ears making her dizzy.

“Because,” he started.

Then he stopped. His lips quivered and his lashes fluttered, a tell-tale sign that this next act was going to injure him further, that his next words weren’t ones he could take back.

“Because it’s how I look at you.”

#cedric diggory x reader #draco malfoy x reader #cedric diggory imagine #draco malfoy imagine #cedric x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #cedric diggory fanfiction #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco x cedric #draco malfoy #cedric diggory #draco malfoy imagines #cedric diggory imagines #harry potter fic #draco fic #cedric fic #harry potter x reader

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

Cafuné (250 Drabble)

250 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Prompt: Cafuné - (v.) running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

Word Count: 1068 (I am incapable of writing drabbles it seems)

Warnings: Fluff, just fluff.

A/N: Hi, I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to start posting the remaining drabbles. I just ran out of ink for these, needed a lil break to write these remaining eight.

Hope you like this one, and thank you!

There was always something intimate, something just yours and just his, in all the ways your fingers ran through his hair.

“You’re late,” You mutter, trying not to sound as pettily offended as you are. Ivar grunts an answer, and doesn’t hesitate to crawl to you and, instead of sitting by your side as he usually does, dropping his head and half of his torso on your lap, one arm secured around your legs as if to make sure you don’t run away. You consider him in silence for a few moments, before sighing, “Bad day?”

“My brother is-…” His face scrunches up in anger, and his hand makes a vague gesture as if to make up for the word he can’t think of at the moment.

“What did you do to him?” You ask, an attempt at teasing him, an attempt at lifting his spirits that doesn’t particularly work.

“Sometimes Sigurd is just a bastard, you know,” Ivar grumbles settling better in his place and turning his face away from you. “I need you to be on my side.”

“I’m always on your side,” You reassure him with a light smile, lifting your hand to run your fingers through his short hair, “Always will be.”

You stay like that while the rest of the world wakes up, running your fingers through short and choppy hair, feeling Ivar relax under your ministrations.

Through all the years together, across different lands and surrounded by chaos and war, it was one of the things that remained the same.

He makes yet another sound of complaint when you tug too hard, but you ignore him, teeth gritted and words kept at bay by anger alone.

Ivar is boasting about his success -his and his brothers’- with gestures of the hand not holding onto the horn of mead. You’re keeping your words short as not to demand explanations and your eyes solely focused on your work on his braids as not to be confronted once again by the dark bruises that now litter his back.

“It isn’t like you to bite your tongue.” He tells you after a few moments of silence.

“What were y-…?” You stop yourself with an angry sigh before continuing, “You knew, because you planned it to be so, that the fighting was to be in close quarters and it was to crush the ones with the lesser numbers. That’s why you flanked the Saxons, why you planned to divide them.”

Ivar’s eyes narrow at you, but all you see is the blood staining the left one, “And I was right, and our strategy is the reason we won.”

“Where was your strategy, where was your brilliance, when you decided to storm into the incoming army, Ivar? With no support, with n-…”

He turns his face away from you, looking back ahead and almost managing to make your hands fall from the braids you were working on.

“I will not sit here and listen to you question me. I won us Yorktown; I stopped those Saxons. Me,” He hits one hand against his chest, and you’re again watching him sit in front of the chariot and beating an axe against his chest, blood warm on his face and sweet on his tongue. At your silence, Ivar huffs an angry breath, but it is less the anger of Ivar the Boneless and more the anger of Ivar. “I thought you’d be proud of me.”

Something in you gives in, and you continue your work on his braids with more gentleness, less anger.

“I am.” Is all the answer you give.

It is, you dare think -hope-, one of the things that will forever remain the same. Just like there’s no you without him, there’s no battle he will ride into without the mark of your work on his braids.

Ivar sighs at the expert work of your fingers on his hair, his head dropping forward a bit. You smile.

“Things will be very different next time you do this.”

“You’ll be King,” You say with certainty, another tight entwining of the locks to follow the side of his head. “King of Kattegat.”

He hums an affirmation, hesitating only for a few breaths too long before he insists, “And I imagined you would braid my hair for another important ceremony,” You don’t say anything, the question written in your silence. You notice Ivar’s shoulders tighten to a coil before he offers, “For our wedding.”

The words make your heart soar but your lips part too, and for a few moments there’s only white noise in your head.

“Um…our what?”

He shrugs, but Gods, there’s nothing casual about the way he is holding himself now.

“I did promise to make you queen one day, didn’t I?”

You make use of your hold on the ends of his hair to tug his head back, make him meet your eyes. Voice hushed, you offer, “We were kids, Ivar.”

“We aren’t kids anymore, and I can fulfill my promise.”

You look at him with wide eyes, searching his gaze that remains defiant -defensive- meeting yours. But you notice the faint tremble of his hands, the tension weaved over his body.

“Is this your way of asking me to marry you?”

Ivar smiles, but it trembles, “If I were, what would you say?”

You steal the breath from his lips with a kiss.

Your work on the war braids is a familiar one, even the weight on your stomach at seeing him depart for yet another raid is a familiar one by now.

“I never did tell you why I always insisted on braiding your hair myself,” You muse quietly, smiling to yourself at his questioning hum. “My mother taught me to braid. I would watch her work on my father’s hair and, when we grew older, my brothers’. She said it was her own way of wielding seiðr. That while some weave to protect those they love, she braided.”

Ivar turns his head to the side, stopping your work and looking at you with a furrow in his brow, “Was she-…? Are you…?”

You smile.

“Maybe,” Forcing him to return to the previous position with gentle movements, you resume your work on his braids. “Maybe all these years I have been braiding promises, twining and twisting spells of protection. Maybe, my love, the Gods sent me to be at your side for a reason.”

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I’ll post Selcouth, a Hvitserk drabble, in a couple of hours, and I’ll try to write and post the other two today too, but no promises. Love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @xceafh @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #250holyfuckthankyou #250 holy fuck thank you

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hela-avenger · 4 years

Text

To the Stars Who Listen- Part 3

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1583

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: And so it begins! Thanks for all the likes/reblogs/comments everyone! I see them and I appreciate them! I’ll probably be updating every Tuesday and Thursday now so there’s that. Tags are open!

TTSWL Masterlist

You feel like you’re floating in the middle of a dark pool surrounded by cold and unknown waters. It is relentless in its attempts to drag you down into nothing. Some part of you desires to just let yourself sink and try to ground yourself to whatever you find below. It would be so easy and yet a part of you knew that if you allowed yourself to reach the bottom you would be unable to float up once again.

So you fight against the rising tide to keep your head above the water. It doesn’t take long then to be pulled out of that darkness.

“She’s waking up.”

“She can’t,” someone mumbles next to you. “That tranq should have kept her under for the rest of the night.”

“It’s the power within her. Must have adapted around the sedative to wake its host up from it. The power won’t be put so easily to rest.”

“Then do something about it!”

“I can’t until she’s fully conscious!”

As if on cue, your eyes flutter open. Your eyelids feel heavy and the brightness in the room doesn’t help your sudden weak state.

“What’s-” you voice cracks and your tongue feels so foreign in your mouth. “What’s going on?”

Your sight blurs in and out but you recognize that bright red hair from anywhere.

“Nat?”

“Hey, Y/N,” she whispers beside you. “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You can’t help but feel suddenly angry at the lie that she’s so blatantly telling you at the moment.

“Liar, liar,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “Pants on...”

A hand is quick to cover your mouth and you move to shove it off only to find your hands handcuffed to the hospital bed.

“That would have not bode well and you know that.”

You glare at your assailant only to find Loki staring down at you with a grin. The anger doesn’t fade away at the sight of him. It seems to enhance and he takes notice of it too.

“Everyone out!”

Your eyes snap away as you take in the crowd that’s in the room. Everyone is apparently there and you find this sudden urge to yell at them for staring.

“We’re not-” Tony starts to say before Loki cuts him off.

“She’s still quite volatile and until she gains some ounce of control, she will not stop until you are all disposed of.”

With that warning, they all have no other choice but to leave. They all shoot you a sympathetic look and you despise it. You don’t know why you’re feeling so darkly about your friends but you couldn’t stop it.

“I know,” Loki whispers as he looks down at you. “I know you are quite confused, but I’m going to let go of you now and I hope you can rein in your emotions and be civil with me.”

His honesty is oddly refreshing and you find yourself relaxing under his hold. True to his word, he releases you and you watch closely as he retreats into the seat next to you.

“I’m sure you have questions.”

“So, so many, don’t know where to begin,” you answer. “My head is spinning and I see no end.”

You frown at the choice of words that flowed out of your mouth so casually.

“Why am I rhyming? Why can’t I stop? Tell me now before my head drops.”

“I will answer your questions but I need you to remain calm,” Loki responds. “Can’t have you losing your head... literally.”

You take a deep breath trying your best to ease your mind, but it was hard. You didn’t know what was going on and why, out of everyone you knew, Loki was the one assisting you with it.

“You seemed surprised to find everyone here,” Loki states. “Do you not remember how you got here?”

You shake your head feeling uneasy of not having any recent memories since the museum.

“You found a book, one of mine, known as the Book of Veritas,” Loki explains. “Essentially, you got too close to it and it unleashed a power to you. I’m not sure exactly the extent of your abilities but I do know that you will have a knack of always knowing the truth of whoever you meet.”

He pauses as you try to make sense of everything you’ve been told. Oddly enough, some innate part of you told you he wasn’t lying which further proved that his explanation was indeed right.

“Now, as for your rhyming tongue,” Loki takes a deep breath and shrugs. “I can only presume that this new psychic development is one your mortal mind isn’t capable of withstanding. You are overwhelmed and your mind has reverted to a default language to ease the strain.”

“This is not ok,” you mumble. “Am I stuck this way?”

“No, not if I can help it,” Loki answers. “The rhyming is getting on my nerves already.”

He frowns, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Don’t know why I told you that. Must be another side effect of yours.”

You open your mouth to respond but close it when you realize that whatever apologies you had would end up rhyming and sounding insincere.

Loki doesn’t question your silence and instead props his hand up for you to take. You find yourself hesitating even though something told you he meant no harm.

“I just need to assess the power you have,” Loki explains. “It’ll be quick and harmless.”

With that answer, you raise your hand as far as the handcuff allowed you to. Loki met you halfway and you instantly feel a warmth spreading through your body.

“Hmm,” he hums. “That’s surprising.”

He lets go of your hand and looks up at you.

“You’ve grown stronger since you first came in. Not strong enough to expel your power physically so we will have to do this the hard way.”

“Hard way?” you repeat.

“You need to dig deep and spread some truth.”

“How is that hard?”

“Because certain truths, the heaviest ones, we like to keep real close,” Loki explains. “You don’t remember this, but you pinpointed some of your friends' insecurities when you first came in. You were quite cruel with them.“

You frown at hearing this hoping your friends knew you hadn’t meant any of it. As if sensing where your mind had drifted to, Loki speaks up.

“They know it wasn’t you,” he assures you. “It’s all because of the power residing in you. There is no way to extract it without killing you so the solution here is to gain control of it. Seeing as I am the expert on the book and magic itself, I’m going to train you. So first, let’s get you back to speaking normally.”

You nod in response and take a deep breath.

“Speak the truth. Use me as a target if you wish. I like to think I’ve got thick skin when it comes to taunting.”

You hesitate at Loki’s offer, but you find it so easy to read him.

“Little Loki went into the Great Hall. Little Loki had a big fall. Little Loki was the laughing stock of them all. Little Loki felt so utterly small.”

Loki chuckles at the memory you brought forth. It was simple and childish. Yes it was embarrassing to fall in front of the royal court but it was just a drop in the ocean compared to everything else. He sits back in his chair and looks at you.

“Now I know you can do better than that,” Loki states. “Come on, dig deeper.”

You find yourself focusing a bit harder on him and the words just slipped out of your mouth with ease.

“Silver tongue turned to lead. Thor won her heart in your stead. Princess Elvira loved the royal prince. Loki wasn’t even offered a second glimpse.”

That one did make him wince but Loki wasn’t utterly devastated at the memory of the Alfheim princess favoring his brother over him. You were getting close to gaining some control but your rhyming tongue still stood strong.

“Dig deeper,” Loki repeats.

You take a deep breath and clear your mind of everything but Loki. Envisioning his image, his voice, his overall being.

Eyes turning red. Ivory skin turning blue. Cold, everything is cold.

“I…” you stammer out confused. “I’ll rather not say.”

Loki pauses wondering what it is that you saw but withheld from saying.

“Y/N.”

“No, it’s a secret for a reason,” you shake your head. “I don’t really understand what I saw exactly but it felt so dark.”

Loki knew better than to push you to state what you saw in him. He suspected already of the secret you might have uncovered. You had certainly dug deep if you managed to find it.

He shrugs it off like he always does and looks at you with a small smile.

“You didn’t rhyme that time,” Loki states. “You managed to not only control what truth to find but whether or not to say it. That’s progress.”

“Does that mean I can get these off?” you ask as you raise your cuffed wrists.

With a snap of his fingers, the handcuffs are pried open. You stare down at your freed wrists and look up at him in surprise. Last you were told, Loki was incapable of doing magic.

“How did you do that?”

Loki doesn’t deem you a verbal response as he offers you a grin before getting up and leaving you on your own.

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @moonlightprime @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @moonlightprime @badhollandfluff

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moireia · 2 years

Note

Hiya! I'm @illegalcerebral and I have you on my card for OC Creator Bingo! I am so intrigued by your MCU characters. What's your fave thing about them and what inspired you to create them?

Thanks for sending in this ask! I’ve been on an MCU kick lately and I’m really glad you’re interested in my ocs!

I’m putting this under a readmore because I’m incapable of answering a question without a long explanation lol.

Sasha’s character started from two things I really wanted in the MCU. The first is found family, especially for Tony at first, and then, for the Avengers as well. I’m still living in 2012 when we all believed the Avengers would live in the Tower together. The second is the better incorporation of magic and Asgard in the mcu and a chance to do a character study of Loki. I was obsessed with the first Thor movie when it came out in 2011 and honestly it remains one of my favorite mcu movies.

It’s hard to say what is my favorite thing about Sasha because there’s so much about her I really love. But if I had to pick one thing, then I think it’s her character arc. where Sasha really comes into her own and accepts herself as she is and with all of her anger. It seems like a character flaw that deep down the core of Sasha is rage. She’s a very compassionate person and is gentle with others, but not so much herself and while she tries not to think about it she is so angry at a lot of what she goes through.

She starts off the story doing her best to hide all the parts of herself that she hates and is ashamed of (her powers, her anger, her longing, etc). She wants to be unnoticed unseen and that manifests in the ability to be invisible. But everything works against her. Once Tony Stark enters her life and everything that follows after challenges her, forces her to face herself, the careful shell/defense and the anger buried inside, so she can grow beyond it. So she can grow her own abilities and her sense of self. It’s a long over arching arc interwoven in everything and it’s really fascinating to see how each mcu movie builds on it. Sasha from the start in post iron man 1 is already different from Sasha in avengers, who is very different from Sasha post age of ultron. And each version is her, leading Sasha to be more of herself.

Easton has become an unexpected favorite character in Sasha’s fic. Sasha is undoubtedly the main character of Apostasies and Easton begun as a side character who has slowly grown more and more important, gaining depth and arcs of his own. My favorite thing about him is his arc in Asgard and how he, Sasha, and Darcy become a tight knit group because of their time in Asgard. Easton is a good Agent, and prides himself on it. But living in Asgard is nothing like he was ever trained for. It’s a literal alien world, full of Asgardians who don’t have the best outlook on ‘Midgardians’/humans. Easton, Sasha, and Darcy quickly have to form this bond, a united front, to be able to support each other while living there. And Easton didn’t really have much of a life or friends who weren’t in SHIELD, and there is always such professionalism in his friendships because of it. Darcy can make Easton laugh like no one else and Sasha is one of the most interesting people to talk to, just to hear how she views the universe. i have a lot of feelings about their friendship.

I started to create Josephine’s character when I was watching tFatWS. My interest in the mcu is mostly everything pre age of ultron. I have a lot of feelings about Endgame and didn’t really like where it left the mcu until Wandavision and FatWS came out. And FatWS reminded me of how much I love CA:tWS. In Sasha’s story I have the chance to explore Tony’s character, Asgard, and the Avengers more. But her story is removed from the events of tWS (she’s literally in Asgard when it happens). Josephine came out of the desire to explore the parts of tWS that I was most interested in, namely Steve’s character. Josephine was also inspired by the movie the Old Guard. I’m obsessed with immortal characters who are so human, and what it does to a person for them to die, but then come back and remain ageless, undying, continuing to live and love, but knowing that all the people and places they love will age and change and die.

My favorite thing about Josephine is her relationship with Steve. He thought she was dead, so Steve is immediately thrown into a whirlwind of emotions because SHIELD lied to him about Josephine having an accident with the serum and he is no longer alone, there is someone who is like him, out of place out of time. A dear friend he knew well, and thought was gone just like the others, but she’s alive and she’s scared and confused and not sure where or who she is anymore, just like Steve was is. I really want to explore Steve’s trauma and his arc of adjusting to the modern world, and what better way to do that than to force him to relive it while helping someone else go through it. But also it’s a fun dynamic because Josephine is not like the young nurse he met in 1943 while he is exactly the man he was when she was young. And that is the thing, she’s not as young as he is. She lived thirty years beyond the war, while he was frozen in ice. There’s a lot of complexity in Josephine’s relationships and in her character that I adore.

#sasha harmon #easton #josephine prior #sasha asks #easton asks #josephine asks #series: apostasies #fic: hiraeth

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phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 3 years

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I’d disagree with the anon that Paul was “incapable” of love, but I do agree he was very distanced, and pretty cruel (to women) when he was younger. (It was unfortunate they bought into the love at first sight myth, but he was also a charmer, and dropped affection and got colder after fucking them.)

But I just can’t see romantic interest on Paul’s end. I’m sure he loved John, but a lot of the “sexual/Romantic evidence” really can just be as construed as platonic love. I feel there may be some confirmation bias looking for “clues”. (Not an attack on anyone, but some of the analysises seem to try too hard, really).

He does make references, with the whole “calling him babe during concerts”, and “in bed” but that could just mean he’s not uncomfortable with coming off “gay”. He has a quote about it somewhere I think. He’s supportive of the community at any rate.

This is kind of my own bias, but at times I think he…plays it up a little during the present day? Again, I’m positive he did love John a lot, but with how he is, a charmer, good at manipulating his image, he knows there is a benefit to building up the “magical” Lennon McCartney dynamic. John’s dead, and the old conflicts have faded, so he has no reason not to. I don’t think he’s anti-social, or a psycho or anything, but he certainly does put a lot of thought into his image, especially now, with how he wants to leave his legacy.

I’m less knowledgeable about John, and the speculation about his mental illnesses, but on his end, I can certainly see it. Maybe he’s just blind, but the looks are very much…yeah. He does seem to rely Paul a lot, and hold him in very high regard (REGARDLESS of what those old male biographers might make of him). You just know he was suffering over Paul, poor bastard.

Not sure if anything happened. I think Paul knew though, and either ignored it, or was kind, knowing John wouldn’t act on it. OR he didn’t notice! With the whole “we shared beds A LOT. you would think he’d make a pass at me, darling~”

I guess that’s how I see it. I don’t really have strong feelings on the nature of their relationship, or want them to be “confirmed”, so I try to be as objective as possible! Not a shipper, but not a male biographer. In fact, I was very put off learning the ship was a thing at first! With every fan base “having to” ship the main male leads, that’s what I thought this was. But after three years, reading actual books, primary stuff, I’ve began to change my mind on its legitimacy, and this was my conclusion. But new information can always change!

(Sorry for the long long analysis, god! I just took my adderall and I should go eat! Feel free to block me for spam/harassment.)

Yeah, this is basically my big mclennon dilemma: did Paul love John?

Of course he loved him, but I mean did he harbour any homosexual feelings towards John - and I just go back and fourth on that a lot.

In my last response to an anon I wasn’t necessarily trying to argue that Paul was romantically/sexually attached to John, because all in all, I don’t believe he did - but it probably came off that way because I didn’t particularly like the way the anon had phrased some stuff (like calling him “a master manipulator” and “incapable of love”) and so I just sort of wanted to show that the relationship was more nuanced then just “john was simping for paul”. My overall point with that response was more so that whilst I think Paul struggles in showing real affection and emotions, I don’t think he was incapable of love prior to Linda. I think he did really love John (in whichever form of love you want to take it: romantically, platonically etc.)

And so my point I guess wasnt so much that Paul was always capable of love (because I think he did at least love his family, his close-friends, probably Jane etc.), but maybe more so that he was always capable of intimacy with another person, though he struggled with it.

But yeah, he was quite cruel to a lot of the girls he slept with in the 60s, but I wouldn’t say that suggests he was incapable of love (i know thats not what you’re saying but other people might interpret it through that lens) I would just say he was young, dumb, ridiculously rich and famous and not emotionally mature enough yet to really empathise with most of those girls. Not trying to completely excuse him, but like, i dunno, i always just try to view people from the most human perspective. Everyones an twat sometimes yknow

I also really struggle to see romance on Pauls behalf towards John - the only times I think “wait but maybe he did fancy john back” is when I read some of his lyrics (like in ‘Coming Up’, ‘Yvonne’s The One’, and to some extent ‘Here Today’ - though I think interpreting Here Today as strictly platonic love is still a valid interpretation). I mentioned this in a different post though, that analysing his lyrics just isnt particularly convincing for me, because it feels more like speculation - and also as someone who does write songs, I know that a lot of lyrics just arent as deep as we wish they were. It is really difficult to be truly introspective and honest in a song, without exaggerating or hyperbolising or fictionalising any autobiographical aspects.

I do see your point with Paul possibly playing up the “Lennon/McCartney m a g i c” - im not entirely sure how much I agree, but I do agree to some extent. I think he’s always been very image conscious, and being in what is probably the all-time most famous pop band definitely wouldve heightened that. Even as a teenager I think he’s always just had this natural charm about him, and that tends to stem I guess from a need to be liked; I think you can see it in every interview he’s ever done to be honest. Its not necessarily a bad thing, (because id take a charmer over a rude knobhead any day) but I guess it sort of just shows that Paul is flawed like everybody else. Also, just read @mothernatures-sons tags and I agree with her - Paul just knows when to be a nice person! Nothing wrong with that! It isnt manipulative like the last anon suggested, its just how most people are: polite :) Ive heard a lot of anecdotes from people who have worked with or met Paul and the majority of them say he was a just a nice guy. Not saying he was never an arsehole (cause yeah he was pretty cruel to those girls in the 60s) but I think overall, hes a pretty good guy 👍

On the other hand though, you could also say that superficial journalists are looking for superficial answers - and Paul knows what the people want to hear. But occasionally ill hear an interview that does seem more intimate then most - I havent listened to it in awhile, but the interview he did with Sean I remember felt more honest to me then most. And when he said he’d like to spend the day “in bed” with John, to me that felt like a genuine and fitting response. Because, whilst it has sexual connotations, it also just feels like he’s saying he’d just like to sit around, chat, dont chat, just whatever with John for a day. Like he would just like another moment of intimacy with him.

I think we are pretty much in agreement on most of this though! At first I was also like “nah, mclennon isnt real, teenage girls just love shipping guys!” (I am a teenaged girl and I can confirm this lol) but then it just sort of became apparent to me through reading more and more about their relationship that there probably was something more on Johns behalf. If John wasnt in love with Paul, then it feels as though a lot of things he said and did just dont add up (the big one for me is him marrying Yoko so soon after Paul married Linda - like I really cannot come up with a heterosexual explanation for that!)

But when it comes to Paul, though ill have moments of doubt, I dont think he was in love with John (homosexually) and I do think a lot of the evidence on Pauls behalf seems like a stretch (but like you, im not having a go at anyone, because I understand that it is easy to carried away, plus its fun - but realistically, most of Pauls evidence just is not convincing to me). He’s comfortable with his sexuality, and I really do try to respect that and not force a gay interpretation of quotes or songs from him, unless it is genuinely making me question his sexuality and mclennon.

PS dont worry, I didn’t take this is spam at all!! And also, I would never block someone just for disagreeing with me! I enjoy discussion and I think its good to engage with people who disagree with you! To be honest, id only block someone if they were purposely being a real arsehole <3

#mclennon #discussion

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skellebonez · 3 years

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You write Tang and Red's dynamic so well! Could I ask for more Tang being a wholesome dad to Red with 7 please?

Tang and TLT Red are really interesting to write like this, I could write 500 prompts of them interacting! I decided to go slightly farther back in the timeline for this one. Like. VERY far back in the timeline. So far back this is how Tang decided he was dad now back.

I am apparently incapable of not writing things that are nearly full length fics right now. This is as long as a chapter of SFAUT.

“Do you need anything else?”

The new routine... or was it a habit? Both? Whatever it was,Tang had decided it was alright, despite the fact it had first started out of a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. How could it not have, with one of the first and most stubbornly determined enemies that had been fighting MK showed up at Pigsy’s Noodle’s after hours with two Bull Clones holding onto the side of his truck, haphazardly packed with boxes they could see through the windows and holding an injured arm?

“As of 6 hours ago I am no longer assisting my parents” was the explanation Red Son had given, short and to the point, when they had all raised their weapons (makeshift in the case of himself and Pigsy) at the sight. No one had believed him at the time, but apparently something made MK stop the demon when he made to leave without another word.

----------

“What do you mean? Why the boxes?” MK asked, gripping onto the back of the demon’s coat. He let go and shrunk his staff when he tugged at it and Red Son took in a sharp breathe of pain. Clearly he didn’t think Red Son was a threat with his injury, “What happened to your arm?”

“My shoulder was dislocated,” Red Son explained in shocking honesty at the last question, turning to look at the group once again in only slight hesitation. Tang realized that he looked... tired. His eyes were red and irritated, it reminded him of how MK’s eyes looked when Pigsy first taught him how to cook and he got a face full of hot broth steam in them. “There was a... complication with some demons that wished to do business with my parents. They have been dealt with.” Tang did not miss how MK’s eyes widened in realization. He must have known was Red was referring to.

“Shouldn’t that be in a sling?” Tang asked without thinking, earning a tight glare from Pigsy and Mei as he lowered the bowl he was brandishing back to the countertop. “What? It’s what you’re supposed to do!” Something was... off. Tang didn’t know what, but something didn’t feel right about this. And not in a ‘this is secretly a trap’ kind of way.

Red Son looked at him oddly, then back down as the arm he cradled in his uninjured one before addressing MK again with an aggravated sigh. “I supposed you’ll find out eventually, you’re persistent like that. I have a... safe house, I suppose you’d call it, hidden away in the mountains far outside the city. Not even my parents know about it. I’m going to stay there. I suppose you could consider me defected to your side from now on, should a large enough problem arise.”

“Did something happen with your parents?” Tang asked, taking a step forward with a raised eyebrow and ignoring the yells of “what are you doin have you lost your marbles!?” from Pigsy and the shocked look from Mei.

The odd look was back on Red’s face, mixed with surprise and anger this time. “NO.”

“Because people usually don’t run off to a safe house their family doesn’t know about and defect to the other side of a conflict unless something happened.” Tang emphasized each of the most important parts of his accusation carefully, hoping that at least MK would pick up on what he was hinting at. The silence behind him told him Pigsy seemed to. “Especially with not a truck packed with what looks like everything they own, and double especially when they take the time to stop to visit someone they hate to tell them goodbye.”

“It-!” Red started to snap, a shaky sigh leaving him as he calmed himself. “It’s none of your concern.”

“Did your parents hurt you?” MK asked softly, a smattering of horror under-toning his words and tang could head Mei choke back a noise behind them. It wasn’t an angry one, and definitely wasn’t happy. Pigsy remained quiet.

“NO!” Red snapped with his hair ablaze as he turned back to MK, hissing in pain as he jostled his arm. “They wouldn’t-! They-! Not... not like that.” His temper and and hair and voice fizzled out like someone dumping a bucket of water on a campfire and Tang did not miss the implications of those words, whether Red had meant to let them slip past or not.

“You need medical attention,” Tang stated, putting his hand on Red Son’s good shoulder gently. Red Son tensed under his touch. “I cannot in good conscious let you leave without that at least, especially not if you’re telling the truth about not fighting us anymore.”

“Why?” Red asked, odd look back. Tang realized it was confusion. “I know I just said I’m not your enemy, but why are you offering to help me?”

“Because I want to.”

----------

Exactly WHY that managed to work, Tang still didn’t know. But for some reason his words seemed to have struck a chord with Red Son and he agreed to have his Bull Clone driver follow them (them being MK, Mei, and Tang as Pigsy still had to manage the Noodle Shop) to the secret base (or the Sea-Crate HQ) at Sandy’s.

Sandy was shockingly understanding, welcoming him onto his boat for treatment with just the barest explanation. It probably helped that half of Sandy’s cats immediately flocked to the fire demon to run against his legs and his only reaction to them was a hesitant look down as he tried not to step on them.

Red was unusually quiet the entire time, as if he was trying to understand what exactly was happening around him. Mei tried to make snide remarks to get a rise out of him, to just growls and glowers. MK tried to talk to him about anything, mostly Monkey King related questions, but again he got the same reaction. Mei eventually changed her tactic to talking about tech and that got at least some responses from Red. Eventually they just watched as Sandy patched the demon up and all of his cats piled on top of him to the confusion and amusement to everyone.

It wasn’t until Sandy had properly patched Red up that Tang suggested he just stay at the base for the night instead of heading out that everyone not named Red Son seemed to realize what Tang’s real plan was.

Keep Red Son close just in case. Tang did not think Red was lying, not in the slightest. He was acting too off for this to be an act. But he knew that not everyone on Team MK would agree with him. After all, it was easier to keep an eye on your enemy if he was right next to you. But Tang did not think he was lying. Tang thought he needed help.

He seemed at least somewhat impressed by the base but didn’t really say much. Sandy had brought up the important question of “what if DBK and PIF find out you are here?”, to which Red explained that if they discovered he was there they wouldn’t just storm the place and drag him home given demon customs and the like. Using the safe house instead of his penthouse (and wasn’t it a trip to learn he had a penthouse) was more for him to not have to deal with their attempts for as long as possible.

MK and Mei had jokingly told him he owed them for letting him stay and while their reaction to him agreeing to pay them back whatever they liked was amusing, it made Tang wonder exactly what kind of situations Red Son was used to. Where he would have to pay everything done for him back. He seemed to accept their rebuttal that he just needed to promise not to light anything on fire easily enough.

“Do you need anything else?” was his final question to Red before they left him be, trusting the security system and Sandy (and the ocean) to handle anything that may come up. He placed a hesitant hand on Red’s head, something he did for MK and something he hoped would not offend Red Son. He felt the heat of the fire that would flare up his hair. He could feel it fluctuate, heating and cooling and heating again in response to something. Fascination couldn’t be erased from Tang’s face.

Red looked at him with that odd confused look again and said. “No... but... thank you?”

Red Son announced in the morning that he would be staying and would join Team MK.

----------

“Do you need anything else?” Tang asked, placing his hand on Red’s head. This had become... something. Something he just did whenever he could. A way to gauge how Red was feeling and a way to show him he trusted him given how easily his hair flared up. As well as a way to show he did care. They ended the day the same way every time, the question and the gesture one after the other.

“No, but thank you,” was the reflexive response from the fire demon. It was said so much easier now, so much more honestly. Sometimes he would answer with an affirmative, long ago hesitant but now just as easy as saying the sky was blue.

Tang couldn’t have been more proud of Red Son. He was still the proud and loud and showoff-y and fiery tempered demon he always was, but he was also trying to show he wanted to change. Wanted to be a hero now. Red was still unsure of a lot, but he seemed to be molding himself into the entire team well. Even Pigsy had quickly taken a shine to him after he offered to fix his kitchen appliances!

Tang also did not miss how he was starting to forget to call him Mr. Tang now, at very rare times. Whether it was because of MK calling him something else or just how Red Son felt, the scholar wasn’t sure. But hearing Red Son stop and correct himself with a “thanks d-MR. tANG!” was also something. Tang had decided that was alright as well.

DBK, on the other hand, didn’t seem to think it was given his reaction in that last fight when that happened. But Tang couldn’t rightly care what he had to say about it.

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superhusbands4ever · 3 years

Text

life is far away from fair - The Bad Batch (Ao3)

Words: 1562 | Rated: Gen | Hunter & Tech & Crosshair (& Rex, kinda)

Canon through Episode 3: Replacements | Lotta Angst

“Do you think he’s eating enough?”

Hunter pulled his eyes from where he’d been blankly watching the hyperspace lane fly by.

Tech was sitting in the copilot seat, fiddling with his inhibitor chip scanner. Wrecker and Echo were back in the bunks, staying with Omega after the girl had woken them all screaming from a nightmare.

Hunter certainly couldn’t blame her. He shuddered when he thought about their time in that Zygerrian camp, the collars around his brothers necks, Omega’s screaming and crying, begging the slavers to stop as they cracked the electro-whip at his back—

They were all sleeping a little rough after that. Thankfully they’d found Rex’s scrambled beacon not too long after and were able to take a couple of days to relax before Crosshair and his team found them and they had to—

And before Cody—

He was grateful to their ori’vod for helping them escape, but prying Echo from the other man was the hardest thing Hunter had done after leaving Kamino without their kih’vod. He hoped Rex was okay.

He hoped Rex was still alive.

Little gods, everything was so karked these days.

Omega was able to fall back asleep pretty quickly with Wrecker holding her, but Hunter hadn’t been able to, so he offered to take the first watch in the cockpit. They were in hyperspace and on autopilot, so there was really no reason for him to keep watch, but he needed some time to gather his thoughts.

Tech had come in an hour later, mumbling under his breath about Wrecker and Echo snoring before dropping into the seat beside Hunter and messing with his scanner.

They’d been sitting in silence for a while, Hunter lost in his own mind, before Tech’s voice broke through the silence.

He was still toying with the device in his hands, his voice the same clinical monotone as always, and he was carefully avoiding looking in Hunter’s direction.

“He has a faster metabolism of course, so if he doesn’t eat often enough he gets—“

“Dizzy spells,” Hunter finished, watching Tech carefully. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And he’s always been weird about eating,” Tech continued as if Hunter hadn’t spoken. “Statistically speaking, with the number of times we had to take him to the mess ourselves versus the number of times he went willingly, it’s unlikely that he’s—“

“I don’t know if he’s eating, Tech,” Hunter said softly, cutting the man off before he could work himself up. “I hope he is.”

Tech nodded, pulling a small screwdriver from somewhere and poking at his scanner.

It was instantaneous when my chip came out. I still remembered everything I’d done, but I was in control again.

Tech had been quiet about Crosshair since they left Kamino. While Wrecker and Echo and even Omega had expressed some fear for Crosshair and a longing to get him back, Tech hadn’t said much. A few passing comments about the chips, mentioning Cross’s name only when absolutely necessary to the conversation — speaking about their youngest brother almost clinically, as if everything was normal and they hadn’t broken the one rule they set for themselves when they left him behind.

It was strange at first, because he and Cross had always been close. Being the two youngest of the batch they tended to drift together more often than not. Crosshair was a man of few words while Tech tended to be a man of many. They balanced each other out, in a way. Crosshair was the only one Tech tolerated casual touch from. Tech was the only one Crosshair let near him when he was injured or sick. It was weird to be on the ship and see the two of them not in the cockpit together, Tech rambling about something or another while Crosshair rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile. It was strange, at first, that Tech didn’t seem to want to acknowledge their brother was gone.

Hunter hadn’t said anything about it because he wasn’t sure what to do. Tech tended to struggle with complex emotions. He didn’t always know how to explain what he was feeling, and he struggled socially because of it.

But having known Tech since he was barely over two growth cycles old, Hunter knew Tech was really good at saying a lot of words without actually saying anything at all. And usually to figure out what he was feeling, actions spoke louder than words.

Theoretically, if you get the chip out, you should get Crosshair back.

He saw the way Tech would clam up and get tongue tied when Crosshair was mentioned. He remembered the way Tech had snapped at him on Salucamai about the chips. He’d leave the room when Wrecker would tell Echo and Omega stories about their time as cadets, the way 99 had brought them together and the way they became the squad they were today.

(Before.)

He saw the way Tech had barely put his inhibitor chip scanner down since their run-in with Rex, constantly fiddling and tinkering with it since Rex told them that the effects of the chip were reversible. Since Rex had given them hope that there was a chance they could get their brother back.

“I don’t understand.”

Hunter looked at Tech, who stared down at the device in his hands.

“You don’t understand what?”

“Why Crosshair?” Tech said slowly, brows furrowing. “All five of us have the chip. Why did only his work? I’ve been trying to figure it out. There’s no logic to it.”

“I don’t know,” Hunter said, having spent too much time asking himself and any higher power in the universe listening the same question. “Sometimes things don’t have a reason. Sometimes things… just happen. There’s not always a logical explanation.”

Tech scowled and his jaw clenched, obviously unsatisfied with the answer, but didn’t argue.

It was like I was watching someone else control my body from the inside. No matter how much I tried to scream, I couldn’t even open my mouth.

“If anything it feels like some kind of sick, cosmic joke,” Hunter finally said the words that had been plaguing him since the order came down and everything changed. “The one clone out of all of us who hated regs and following orders more than anything…”

I was only under its control for a couple of hours at most, but it still felt like a part of me had been ripped out. Sometimes I wake up and I still feel like I’m not myself.

“I hope he’s fighting it.”

Hunter jerked back at the venom in Tech’s tone. It was the most emotion he’d shown the whole conversation, and it was the first time he’d heard Tech sound truly angry about their brother. It was the first time since leaving Kamino that Tech had sounded anything other than indifferent and unperturbed about it all. The tone made him sound so similar to their brother that Hunter was almost surprised to look over and see goggles instead of a crosshair tattoo.

I can’t even imagine how the others might feel. The ones who have been under longer. How much of them are still left.

Tech turned to look at Hunter, finally, and Hunter felt his heart clench at the fire burning in Tech’s eyes.

“I hope he’s fighting back, like he used to,” Tech whispered. “If there’s even a little bit of our Cross’ika left in him, I hope he’s giving them hell.”

I don’t know the long term effects of the chip. I can’t imagine what that might do to someone’s mind.

Hunter thought about Rex, about the way he said he tried to fight the chip before being sucked under its control. That despite realizing what was happening, the split second where he realized Fives was right and this was Palpatine’s plan all along, he’d still been helpless to it’s pull before it dragged him under mentally kicking and screaming.

The order was to execute the Jedi for treason against the Republic, he’d said. But the order also said to execute any clone who refused to comply.

He thought about Crosshair and the way he’d consistently questioned Hunter about letting the Padawan go. The way he’d spit and yelled and called Hunter unfit and incapable, but never lifted a weapon toward them. He’d been angry and confused and lashed out like an frightened and injured tooka backed into a corner.

He did fight it, Hunter desperately wanted to tell his little brother. He already was, he wanted to say, because Crosshair may have yelled and argued and said things that made Hunter feel like he’d been stabbed through the chest, Crosshair never actually tried to stop them, let alone kill them.

But then he thinks of Crosshair in the hanger bay, his vod’ika, armor as blank and empty as the eyes that looked down the scope of the rifle as he shot down Wrecker and taunted Hunter without second thought, and he doesn’t know what to believe.

Once that chip finally comes out, I can’t guarantee how much of the Crosshair you knew will be left behind.

“I hope so, too,” he said instead, praying to the Maker and the Force and Manda and anyone who was listening that by the time they got to Crosshair there was still enough of their baby brother left to be saved.

(that bit with Rex and Cody is a reference to another fic I am currently writing that will be published... eventually idk)

#cady writes #my fic #the bad batch #tbb #tbb hunter #seargent hunter #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #captain rex #the clone wars #clone force 99 #clone trooper tech #clone trooper crosshair

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like-rain-or-confetti · 3 years

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How would the Romanians react to an autistic person (I am autistic)

DISCLAIMER: This is a big one and I will deem sensitive. It should be said that I am not diagnosed with Autism but do have people in my life with the condition. Therefore, I very much might get something wrong and/or have answered this with my own personal knowledge and experience. I've also used a quick Google search once or twice. NONE OF THIS CONTENT is to upset or offend anyone but will be mentioning sensitive topics such as intolerance within historical era's.

So these two have almost no experience with humans. Unless you want to include feeding on them until death.

Plus their era isn't going to help them.

It depends on how far on the spectrum the human is in terms of if it's their are different mannerisms and behaviour. The Romanians will pick up on them immediately considering it odd or even a human trying to be rude. Unless someone tells them about autism, they won't have a clue about even the existence of the condition. It will have to be explained that autism hasn't become more common recently, it wasn't rare even in their time. Society was simply intolerable of those behaviours and deemed a person incapable or flawed in those times.

If Autism is explained to them they'll learn that these individuals with the condition aren't heartless, rude or lacking empathy. Therefore, anything they say and do in the Romanians company isn't insolence. They'd have to be told that those with autism can be confused by social signals like facial expression, body language and tone of voice. That's important because those without such conditions are highly dependent on those signals. The Romanians being a classic example in such dependency.

The next is to clarify that it isn't something to be cured. They very likely know that for themselves given the explanation they have been provided. It comes into the newer concept for them that everyone has their own specific set of needs and sometimes those fulfilled by society standards aren't enough. It's really getting them out of the mindset they grew up with that they had to adapt to survive in their own society and therefore, 'change to be like everyone else and their socially acceptable expectations'. It may be alarming to the Romanians at how flexible so society is today. For example it wasn't too far away in history that left handed people were getting extreme harmful methods by education and adults in general to be right handed instead. Being left handed was considered almost evil seemingly because the word 'left' derives from the Anglo-Saxon word 'lyft' which meant weak. Whilst such an example is far beyond their time to begin with, you can imagine how societies progression is like a stranger to what they were accustomed to.

It might be best for them to grasp the condition by using more relatable examples at first. Such as socializing within children. Even not having have something such as Autism, some children prefer to be on their own and actively avoid being around a lot of people at the same time. We'd deem them as loners, introverted or shy. Whilst there are other children who are very extroverted, love making friends and take part in games and playing with others around them. We'd deem them social butterflies. Both of these are possible with autism. There are many who like to make friends and be around others just as much as there are those who'd rather be alone and enjoy their own company. This would definitely illustrate a clearer picture for the two. They'd recall those in their coven who fit such descriptions, those who were incredibly sociable whilst there were others who sought and enjoyed solitude. Of course it would be clear that whilst the example was children, it could be said the same for adults. So much so, they'd pick that up on their own without the promoting.

This next one is the big one. The big hurdle that has been around since civilization or whatever you'd like to deem...I'd say even before the enlightenment era. This biggest myth there is about Autism is that those diagnosed cannot learn. This is absolutely not true. The fault history has had and to some extent still has today is that if you don't fit the exact standards of what the education system or society seems ideal then you must be incapable of learning. This is a load of shit. Of course, through no fault of their own, the Romanians would immediately think this but no-no, we're getting educated today boys. As mentioned before, everyone has individualistic needs for them specifically. We can't blame the Romanians when they came from a society that tossed any kind of individualism to the side but we're gonna help them out. It's the same way. Those with autism most certainly can learn. Some, depending on the severity, need a different form of teaching methods and more time to really learn what is being taught. Some people pick things up better than others but we don't determine we shouldn't teach someone who's falling behind. As long as someone knows how to teach that specific person with a style tailored to them, the person will very much learn. However such time and effort wasn't given back in their era. So this is a whole other thing to them. The human race has moved past the demand someone knows something. We've progressed from being violent/hurting children to get a point across.

They'd greatly appreciate how refined those with Autism could be. Learning, skills and talent aren't just in what you can recite out of a textbook after all! Hearing that there are those who aren't so good with maths or languages but excell at drawing? They love it. If you have a talent then you should nurture it. The Romanians can't fault anyone for that. An example would be the man who inspired the film 'Rain Man' Kim Peek. From what I remember of psychology. Kim Peek had a photographic memory and could remember things like pages upon pages of a phone book. Highly intelligent stuff but whilst at a restaurant and told he was speaking too loud, without fail he'd slump into his seat, sliding down so that he appeared smaller in attempt to lower his voice. They'd be fascinated but you'd have to remind them that not everyone who has Autism displays such apparent behaviours. There are many who are on the spectrum and no one would have guessed upon meeting them.

So there is a lot of learning on their part but they would pick up very easily that those with Autism are very much like the rest of the population. They might act a little different sometimes or miss a social cue every now and then that leads to a very confusing encounter but that doesn't make them any less of a vibrant personality with likes and dislikes like everyone else who also deals with good days and bad days like everyone else. Whilst being Autistic is a part of being who someone is- that doesn't mean they won't have difficulty sometimes. The Romanians would be very sympathetic to that, recognising how confusing some daily situations can be to really grasp, especially when having a bad day.

They'd want to know if those with Autism consider it to be suffering constantly, a constant doom and gloom. They'll be relieved to hear it most certainly isn't! It isn't like suffering from an illness, it's living with something that's just a part of who you are and sometimes like everyone else, challenges will be faced.

Now that we've got the whole teach-the-Romanians segment let's pretend they know about Autism and their reaction upon meeting someone with Autism for the first time. They're watching every miniscule movement. They're already very good judges of character and will do their best to try and pick up on the expressions and movements of the person to make sure they aren't crossing any lines. They're very polite but are much more patient, ensuring the person is aware that their is no expectations. They don't need to worry if they make a mistake as they've likely already picked up that the person meant well. If anything they'll be more patient and give benefit of the doubt.

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buddiewho · 3 years

Text

Begrudgingly, I re-watched the date scene. Now that I was actually paying close attention...it was an alarm sound from an iPhone. Therefore, this means Eddie did set an alarm to remind himself of the promise to be home in time to put Christopher to bed. Yet, my brain still keeps questioning the entire thing. Okay, Eddie's having a tough time with the fourth grade math. It's math, personally, I don't blame him. Anyhow, Ana makes her cute joke about 2+2 still equals 4. Then I thought, if it were that easy then why are we making the equation so damn hard? So damn hard that it led to Christopher being mad enough to run away to Buck. Super hard to the point Ana even mentions "taking a break" because Christopher is at this breaking point already so should we even move forward? "I don't want you going anywhere..." juxtaposed to Buck saying to your son, “I’m not going anywhere.” Which adds another piece to this equation because Christopher felt that he’d lose Buck to his Dad dating...? *cracks knuckles* If the equation is so simple. If it's 2+2=4 (and yeah I know they're 3), but if it's 2+2=4 then it's easy. The outcome should eventually look like Future Tense (4x03), but maybe with kisses between out and proud boyfriends co-parenting Christopher. Really it's so easy to manipulate the 4x08 equation because it could've gone like this (if we weren't doing a slow burn, I suppose) and of course, I took many liberties as to imply one of them is already aware of the feelings they caught:

"Hey Buck, I need you to come over. We're going to help Christopher with his math homework." There was groan on the other end of the line. "Why me? I can't do math," Buck announces without hesitation. He really doesn't want to do math, but it's Eddie and it's Chris so of course he was going to end up dragging himself over to the house.

"Come on. I don't get understand it. I need your help more than him. Besides, we might end up goggling shit, when Christopher isn't looking because I don't want him getting into that habit to do his homework. So get over here. We'll order pizza and maybe by the end of the homework session, we could play video games or something."

"Sounds enticing, but it's still math," Buck said as he was getting his shoes on. "Who am I kidding? I'll be there." Eddie laughed and hung up. __

"Buck!" Christopher said from the couch as he entered. "Hey, little man, I hear you need help with some math homework." "Did my Dad really call you?" "Yes, he did so apparently it's that bad. Don't know how I'm going to help. I was terrible at math." "Well, if it's the three of us, I think we'll do just fine," Christopher said so nonchalantly, but it tortured Buck's heart a little bit. It was a heart wrenching pang of sweet sweet happiness at the sheer acceptance from Christopher.

Pizza plates surrounded a notebook and worksheets. The three of them sat back on the couch; Buck and Eddie next to each other, Chris on the other side of Eddie. They were about fed up with this one problem. "I don't get it, Dad." "Yeah, me too," added Buck. "Yeah, me three," Eddie sighed. "We're nearly there, I think. If not I'm looking up the answers and that'll have to do."

"Wouldn't that be cheating?" Christopher asked. "Sort of," Eddie loosely explained. "Think of it as calling on an expert, a math expert, or a teacher," Buck explained some more. "But we don't use it every time. Just as the last resort." Christopher thought on it and then just changed the subject, "Can we take a break? Let's play a game before I have to go to bed."

"Yeah, sure. Let's take a break. I don't think it's due for a couple days anyway." Eddie agreed. Buck leaned close, their shoulders now touching. "So what happened to not looking up answers in front of him?"

"This math problem pissed me off," Eddie said through gritted teeth. Then he softened. "Thanks for the save with that explanation." "It's all good. So Christopher are we playing the usual?" "Yeah, the pirate against the wolf that's the fighting game we always play." "Maybe the two of you should try different characters?" "No," they both said in unison and Eddie just laughed. He started to clean up their mess as Buck jumped up to help Christopher get the game turned on. Eddie came back and Buck was surprised when he sat directly next to him instead of putting Christopher in the middle. Buck wasn't going to complain. Then something shitty happened. Something really shitty. Eddie touches their shoulders again and then whispers, "You know how I told you I ran into Christopher's old teacher Ana Flores. I should call her? It's just you mentioned teacher earlier and I thought..." Eddie's voice trailed off and Buck tried not to press the controller buttons harder than needed. When Buck didn't immediately respond, Eddie seemed to forget what he said because he went on to loudly say, "Buck, you really should change your character. You never win as the pirate."

Buck chuckled. "I like the pirate. I'd be a pirate if I could." "Of course you would." "And I'd be a wolf," Christopher interjects. "Nice choice," Eddie tells his son. "What about you Dad? What would you be?" "Probably a ninja or something," Buck offers. "Maybe," Eddie muses. "But I was thinking a simple, clean, and efficient boxer." "Practical," Buck rolls his eyes. "Where's the imagination?" "Okay, pirate, I'll be your first mate then." Buck smirks, wondering if there were any implications beyond that statement. "No, you'd be part of the crew, swabbing the deck of my ship," he jokes. "I see how it is," Eddie bit his lip. "All right. Expect a mutiny led by me then."

"I win!" Christopher announces, pulling them out of their imaginary world. "Of course, you do." Buck smiles. Eddie looks at the time, not believing that much of it had passed. "How about a story before bed?" Eddie asks Chris. "Not from Buck." "Oh, yeah, I don't blame you," Eddie gently elbows Chris. "It's because of the kid in the rotisserie isn't it?" "Yup," said Chris. "Hey! That was a cautionary tale." "Yeah, okay," Eddie gave him a playful glare. "All right, let's get to bed." They were at Christopher's door when Buck stopped Eddie. Christopher shuffled inside towards his bed. "I got a story for tonight," Buck stated. "And what's that?" "Hansel and Gretel." Eddie's fist clenched and he contemplated playfully punching Buck's arm, but he didn't. He just looked him square in the face and crossed his arms. Buck lost it at the sort of scolding Dad face, "I'm kidding. I'm kidding. We'll read something light and fluffy. Like Little Red Riding Hood. It has a wolf."

"Buck!" "All right, all right, I'm done." Buck held up his hands. Christopher had sat on the edge of his bed, half-listening to them. "So pajamas. Then a story and bed." Eddie rattled off. "I'm kind of tired so maybe no story tonight," Christopher yawned. "Thanks for coming over to help with my homework." Buck smiles from the doorway. "I'll leave you two then. Goodnight, Christopher." "Goodnight, Buck," Eddie and Christopher say in unison, making each other laugh. Buck smiles at them and skips to the living room where he left his jacket. He trots to the door and then looks down the hallway. Part of him wanted to stay, but he didn't want to overstep so he takes his leave. As he climbed into his jeep and started it, Buck suddenly couldn't get one thought out of his mind, what if Eddie called that teacher, Ana Flores? What if tomorrow or the next day, he calls her instead? __

It's just Ana offers to come over and help Christopher with his homework. And I kept thinking we're really making this math equation truly difficult because NO MATTER how INCAPABLE they are at math, there's someone already AT HOME that could help Eddie with his son's homework. So they had one good date and then the second date was, "Oh wait I could use her "apparent" math skills to help my son with his homework. Don't forget to set the alarm to be back in time for bed. Oh shit there's construction, I'm going to be late. Wonder if Buck got him to bed? Christopher is probably being stubborn since I'm late." Then of course by bringing her over before Christopher gets to see Tia or Abuela or even Carla seems strange. What's going on? Especially when everything seems fine without forcing Ana into the equation. Can you force equations? Manipulate maybe, more like a chemical/science equation [exactly how Eddie is doing it by forcing himself into this role]? I don't know. Equations do take work. Like the fact that Buck has stayed over BEFORE either to watch Christopher and tell stories and/or stayed long enough after a game night to see Christopher off to sleep and that night he decided to tell a cautionary tale- in which Eddie was apprehensive, but it's Buck telling it and Eddie's there too, Chris would feel safe- until that night Christopher couldn't get to sleep for the next hour.

Equations are long, complicated work and one has already been laid out between Buck and Eddie.

The rest (as we've already agreed) is up to the universe.

#buddie #this is some crack shit again #but still #if it's as easy as 2+2=4 #then what's the endgame?#future tense #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #the universe laid it out they just need to see the answer #they need more work if we're on that slow burn path

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mrfippstuff · 3 years

Text

Fipp: This is just a crackship fic, nothing more.

Also, let's assume this takes place in an AU where things went better than they did in canon.

Schnee Sibling Brunch

Whitley has brunch with Weiss and Winter to better reconnect. Winter has a stroke. (Qrow/Willow Jaune/Winter crackship)

Among other things, Whitley had to admit that this was... nice. Yes, nice, that seemed like the proper way to refer to how the relationship between him and his sisters had developed recently. Much of the animosity had faded away and allowed them to grow a better and healthier interactions with one another, though they had yet to reach that stage and seemed to be in this awkward phases where none of them knew exactly how to talk to one another.

Or maybe it was just him. Weiss and Winter seemed to talk easily to each other well enough, and while he could have conversations with Weiss, with some struggle, talk between him and Winter was of a much more difficult manner, since neither one of them seemed to really know where to start there.

Hopefully these brunches Klein had suggested should help, having the three of them get together every once and awhile to talk about their weeks and breaks some ice between them. It could work, he thought, after all there were only three of them here, and in his experiences, more than three members of his family tended to end in arguments and yelling.

On the table, Weiss' scroll buzzed, slightly moving as it vibrated, while she gave an annoyed huff and chose to ignore it. That in itself isn't anything noteworthy, but what was that this was not the first time this had happened, and it had been going off nearly every minute since they sat down to eat.

“Aren't you going to answer that?” Winter asked, having taken a sip of her tea.

“It's only Ruby,” Weiss said with a roll of her eyes.

“Ruby? Whitley asked.

“Yes, Ruby. She's one of my teammates, you've met her before.”

Whitely tried to think of the faces of Weiss' friends, but while he knew what they looked liked, he couldn't say he ever got their names. “The one with the arm?” he tried.

“No, that's Yang. She's the one in the red hood.”

Oh yes, the one who crashed the sandwich tray last week. Wait...

“So the one named Ruby Rose is the one in the red cape?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“Doesn't that seem a bit on the nose?”

Weiss Schnee picked up her snowy-colored napkin and laid it across her lap, to protect her white dress from any stains or spills. “Of course not.”

“What does she keeping texting you about?” Winter asked.

“Well...” Weiss said, only to pause, looking as though she was not certain how to explain herself. “Okay, so you two know about the recent... situation with our parents, correct?”

A heavy tension suddenly appeared over the table, and Whitley felt his appetite vanish.. Everything between his father and mother, his father in particular, filled with him complicated feeling and emotions that he didn't know how to place or work through. So the best course of actions on dealing with them was to ignore them and hope that they somehow worked themselves out when he's not paying attention to them. Yes, that seemed like a good idea.

“Well, as we both know, Mom recently took up to dating again and-”

Winter made a gagging noise.

“Could we not talk about that please?” Winter said, putting a fist to her mouth, her skin taking on a slightly green complexion to it.

“Yes, I feel like there are other things we can talk about,” Whitley added, wishing the subject could be about anything else than this. The thousands of square miles of barren icy desert outside the city would be a more interesting thing to talk about in his opinion.

“Are you going to do that every time someone brings up Qrow?” Weiss asked, glaring at Winter. “I would think you would be a bit more mature about this, at least more so than Whitley”

Yes, Qrow. That ragged-looking man. Whitley didn't care for him.

Wait.

“What do you mean more mature than me?” Whitley asked, staring daggers at Weiss, who only seemed to grow in annoyance with her sibling.

“Okay, listen,” Winter said, interrupting anything Weiss could have said to defend herself. “I'm happy for Mom wanting to move on, I really am, and while she would have to dig through the bottom of the barrel worst than Jacques, there are still plenty of options better than Qrow Branwen!”

“You're over exaggerating,” Weiss said, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I am not! He is an uncouth, vulgar, vagabond! Every encounter I have had with the man has ended with me wanting to stab him in the throat!”

“That's a bit violent, don't you think.”

“Also! He's a drunk! That's the last thing Mom needs right now!”

“Actually, Ruby told me Qrow hasn't had a single drop since we got to Atlas, and Yang says that he wants to take her to one of the meetings he's been going to.”

“Weiss, while Winter and I have some obvious reservations about Mother and Qrow being... together.” Again, Winter gagged, harsher this time, like she was fighting to keep her food down. “Why don't you seem to bothered by this prospect?”

“Because unlike you two, I can be a mature adult when it comes to such matters.”

“Right,” Winter said, barely under her breath, like she was trying to hide her comment, but didn't want to do it very well.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Weiss shot back.

“You know what.”

Whitley sighed, feeling a headache coming on. “So anyway, the texts from Ruby, what does that have to do with Mother and Qrow?” Winter heaved again.

With a sigh, Weiss picked up her scroll and began to flick her thumb across the screen. “Every since they started dating-” hruk “Ruby has gotten a bit to exuberant over the idea of them together, the point where she has completely gotten ahead of herself and wants them to get married so we can be cousins.”

Winter dropped her spoon, and with sluggish movement pushed her omelet to the center of the table. “I'm done, I can't stomach anything else right now.”

To a degree, he shared the sentiment.

Weiss continued, ignoring Winter. “For the last week she has much of sent me more than a hundred texts, about things like Cousin Activities, and Cousin Weekends, and has even gone as far as to threaten me with matching t-shirts.” With a sigh Weiss continued to scroll through the long list of messages she seemed to have been sent. “There's even something here about-wait, what?”

“Is something the matter?”

“Yeah, for some reason she's talking about Jaune being my brother-in-law? What?”

“Seriously? This again?” Winter groaned.

“Jaune?” Whitley asked.

“He's the blond guy with the sword.”

Oh yes, the one who knocked over the drink tray last week.

“The one with the bad haircut.”

“It's not a bad haircut, I rather like it.” Winter continued. “A while ago, he and I were on a team to eliminate a grimm that had been stalking an outpost in the tundra. A Krampus to be precise.”

A Krampus? Oh yes, their grandfather had first gotten his name as a Hunstman for killing a particularity dangerous one that had been known to target the children of Mantle when he was a young man.

“Well we were separated from the rest of the team and ended up fighting it on our own, and while he had several close calls in the end we managed to kill it.

“So can you summon it now?”

“No, Jaune got the killing blow on it. Anyway, the weather had gotten so bad by that point and turned into a blizzard, we were forced to take shelter in a way-station until it had subsided. We spent a couple of hours together alone and well, he's not half bad.”

“So you're dating him then?”

“I suppose,” Winter said, averting her eyes while a slight red came across her cheeks.

“Wait, you're dating someone?” Weiss asked, and Whitley could only look on in confusion why already Winter was looking frustrated. “Since when?”

“I don't understand, what's going on?” he asked.

Winter could only groan, dragging a hand across her face before she looked Weiss hard in the eyes. “Weiss.”

“Yes?”

“Me, Winter.”

“Okay?”

“And Jaune, your friend.”

“What about him?”

“We. Are. Dating.”

For several seconds, Weiss had this odd look on her face, like she was trying to figure out a difficult puzzle that kept cheating without her knowing. “I don't understand.”

“See!” Winter cried out. “She's been like this whole time! It's like she's physically incapable of comprehending that I am dating Jaune!”

“Who is dating Jaune?” Weiss asked, clueless.

“Me! Weiss! I am dating Jaune! We have gone on three dates so far. Just last night, we spent an hour walking around the mall downtown. We had ice cream and then made out.”

“Okay, you're saying a lot of words that I individually understand, but the order you are saying them just doesn't seem right to me. Winter, are you having a stroke?”

“No I am not having a stroke!”

“Wait,” Whitley said after a thought. “You're dating? Since when do you have time for a social life?”

“Shut up,” Winter snapped. “Also, just what the hell does Ruby mean by 'brother-in-law'? We are not getting married! Marriage isn't even on the table yet!”

“Yet?”

“Shut up again!” She turned back to Weiss. “First of all, you're friend is way over the line here, and she-”

Suddenly, Winter frozen, her words and anger dying as quickly as they had come, and her expression had shifted into something akin to fear from an unwelcome realization.

“Winter?” Weiss asked, and Whitley contemplated poking her with a fork.

Winter next words came out weary, and defeated. “I just recalled some insults Qrow once threw at me regarding our mother, and it occurred to me he could actually carry some of those out.” Without explanation, not that he felt that such a thing were needed, Winter pushed her chair out and slowly made her way to the door, her forming retreating into the hallway beyond.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked.

“Why wouldn't she be?” Weiss said, reaching forward to take Winter's small bowl of melon slices.

There was then a loud, and muffled scream of anguish from down the hall.

“Right...” Whitley then took the remains of Winter's omelet, knowing she would not return for it.

000

Please be well,

Mrfipp

#rwby #weiss schnee #winter schnee #whitley schnee #jaune arc #qrow branwen #willow schnee #fanfic #fanfiction

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averykedavra · 3 years

Note

Alright from the top (I accidently sent before I was ready earlier, apparently)

I was worried about you, ya dipshit (affectionate).

I was afraid you were getting in over your head. Your long reply did help soothe my concerns by showing that you do have a commitment to this. I was afraid you were painting a target on your back, especially as a singlet.

My headmates we're less concerned, but I just. Had to ask.

What you're doing? Is great, and there's this hope that what you've done here will spread and make the fandom a more comfortable space, and my headmates? Love that.

But I'm worried about you. Because bringing this conversation to your door isn't without risk to you. And you're brave for doing it.

I never meant to imply this conversation shouldn't be had, in fact my headmates are kinda really happy about it?

But when I asked what the fuck posessed you, I was asking why the fuck would you take this upon yourself.

And your answer was. Good.

I'm still worried because system discourse has a way of biting friendly hands, (like I unintentionally did apparently, oops) and you're a good person. I just didn't want you getting bit over something you got into unknowingly.

But your reply shows you do know.

So yeah. I was. Concerned.

And I wish you luck.

-Missy, the anon who asked what the fuck posessed you

And that's that -Missy

Thank you -Missy

Hi! Thank you so so much for sending this! It took me a bit to figure out some words, but here I am, armed with probably the sappiest words imaginable.

I’ll admit I was a bit stressed after your first anon ask, since it seems there was an accidental tone mishap djhsgfshsj it can happen, and I get it! My apologies for the long rambling answer, since I did automatically assume the worst, just because I’ve heard similar things before about other issues. ‘Why stir up trouble’ and all that, you know the drill.

But--thank you. In context, this was very sweet of you. I appreciate you looking out for me, for sending me this explanation, for being brave enough to do so, and I appreciate your headmates for giving you the go-ahead! (Say hi to them for me, by the way <3) This was a lovely thing to read this evening, and it’s honestly so sweet that you cared enough to send this.

And...yeah. Yeah, I see where you’re coming from. There are topics that often lead to getting negative attention, and DID can definitely be one of them. I’ve seen second-hand nastiness surrounding this, and other, topics. I’ve been lucky enough to never face any of it myself (probably partly because I am in a position of privilege, and therefore less likely to be harassed) but it does still put me in a bit of a risky situation, I guess.

I’d love to say that I didn’t even consider any backlash, but that’s a bit of a lie. I always consider backlash, it’s one of the perks of overthinking things djhgfssghj and yes, it did feel a bit nerve-wracking to post. Still, my main fear was, and remains, that I would accidentally or ignorantly hurt someone. I’ve always tried to focus on helping and supporting people. Backlash feels less terrifying when it’s measured against helping people!

Systems get put through too much shit in this fandom. In general, actually. The stigma around dissociative disorders is absolutely terrible, and really hurts systems, so it’s important for people to talk about it! That’s what I always try to focus on, in any situation. I’ve found that you get a lot farther in life when you’re focused on making the fandom a better place, instead of making yourself feel safer <3

But it is a double-edged sword. I get that. I really appreciate your concern. I’m in a better position than many people, which means I do get less heat for, say, posts about racism than actual POC do. You know how it is. And yet people probably will get upset about it. Maybe I will get a target on my back, like you said (although I have a good amount of faith in my followers right now, so I’m hopeful dhsgfshjs). Either way, like you said, I do know what I’m getting into.

I do try to be a good person. I’m still working on that. Thank you for the compliment, though, and thank you for the support. Kinda ironically, you’re the reason I’m actually doing this. There are such wonderful people in this fandom, and so many of them--systems, POC, black people, trans people--get put through shit that they don’t deserve. I love this fandom. I want other people to have a chance to love it, too.

And...yeah, not to get all sappy on you, but systems as an issue are pretty close to my heart. I’ve got acquaintances and discord friends who are systems. I’ve got mutuals. And one of my best friends is the host of a system, and I care about them a ton. I would never want to contribute to a space where they feel unwelcome, unsafe, or unheard. I would never want to do that to you, Missy, or your headmates. None of you ever deserve that.

Like I said, I love this fandom. And I’ve seen people harassed, attacked, and forced to leave it. That’s not fair. That’s not something I want to be a part of. If I get to stay in this fandom and love it, so does everyone else.

I’m not saying all this to make myself out as a hero, or a victim, I’m just incapable of saying anything in like ten words. And also I’m really sappy right now. And I’m happy that I could help you in any way, shape, or form. You seem very lovely and very kind. People like you are, really, the reason I love this fandom in the first place.

So thank you. Thank you, this message meant a lot. It’s great to hear, and kind of awe-inspiring, that I could actually make somewhat of an impact with this? Your compliments are very sweet, and thank you. But honestly, I don’t think I’d call myself brave. Just a bit of a sap, doing what should probably be the norm.

And your concern is appreciated, too. But I think I can handle this, if I’ve got people like you in my corner.

I wish you and your headmates the best of luck as well, thank you <3

#aaanddd it's another long post #rip here i go again #longpost #sanders sides #asks and answers #anon #tw ableism #fandom problems #this #yeah this may have made me almost cry what of it #i'm just soft okay #and time to update the masterlist!#thanks again <3333

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medicatemedrmccoy · 4 years

Text

Check-up

For the anon ask yesterday, again, thank you for the ask! :) I think my fluff machine might be broke at the moment but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Why am I incapable of writing short drabbles?

1885 words - Leonard x Reader

You walked slowly through the corridor, down the familiar hallways towards medical. You had put off going to medbay for as long as you could physically stand it.

Unfortunately your simple runny nose had turned into a full blown, bone rattling cough that you could no longer ignore, especially at night while it kept you awake, accompanied by a low grade fever that was giving you the chills.

Your steps got slower and slower as you approached the bright lights of medbay along with the beeping of various machines. You could feel your heart begin to beat faster as your stomach churned and your throat start to go dry, only irritating it further as you gave as much of a muted cough as you could into your sleeve, trying not to draw attention to yourself.

Your courage had all but faded as the doors to the medbay suddenly opened wide, startling you as you caught a glimpse of various doctors and patients milling around.

You quickly ducked into the closest hallway, hoping to get away and hide before anyone saw where you were headed. You thought you had made a clean getaway since no one seemed to notice you, except for one sharp pair of hazel eyes you hadn’t realized had caught you at the last second.

“Dammit!” You muttered to yourself, leaning back against the cool wall, you closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. You tried to take some deep breaths but your lungs wouldn’t let you as you began to cough once more, leaning over with your hands on your knees as your eyes watered.

“Well now, that doesn’t sound very good.” A quiet voice said from closer than you were expecting. Your eyes shot open as you started quickly, standing up straight as you stared into the hazel eyes of a very concerned Leonard.

“Len.” Was all you managed to choke out as another round of coughs racked your frame from the sudden movement.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Why don’t you come inside so we can get that looked at. You sound terrible!” Leonard began to fuss lightly with a slight huff at how far you had let this ailment go before coming to see him. He went to put his hand on your elbow to gently usher you into medbay.

As soon as you felt Leonard’s touch, you froze stock still, feet firmly planted on the floor so that not even god himself could’ve moved you. You tried to speak but nothing came out, not even a cough, which surprised you.

Leonard misstepped slightly as he went to help you into medbay, not expecting to meet your sudden resistance. Quirking and eyebrow at you he gave you a once over and before he spoke, he met your eyes. He’d seen that look of fright in a certain blonde haired captain before.

“Tell you what. Meet me at your quarters in ten minutes, alright?” Leonard said as he moved his hand from your elbow to your shoulder, squeezing gently. You briefly wondered if Leonard could read minds and that was how he knew everything.

You swallowed slowly, as you looked up at Leonard, wincing slightly as your raw throat protested. You gazed into his eyes and his frustration that was apparent with his former outburst was all but gone from his eyes that were now gentle and held concern.

The only thing you could do was nod. You knew Leonard was being nice so he didn’t scare you off, you knew all too well what might happen if you refused. You remembered many times when Jim would come running into your quarters, trying to hide from the hypo wielding doctor and it never turned out in the blondes favor. You still remember the red welts on Jim’s neck and the hours of wincing and grumbling that followed.

You quickly did an about face, not looking back as Leonard made his way inside his medbay, no doubt to gather some supplies. Your feet carried you defeatedly back to your quarters. You hated the one on one attention but you hated the medbay more.

Sighing as you punched in your keycode, you prepared yourself the best you could as you sat on the sofa, bouncing your leg and coughing into your elbow as you waited for Leonard to show.

The doctor didn’t keep you waiting long, you could hear him punching in your code and you sat up a little straighter in your seat. The door quietly swished open and Leonard stepped inside with his medkit and stethoscope around his neck.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile as he sat his medkit on your small coffee table before taking a seat himself next to you. You started to feel warm, and you didn’t think it was the fever.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted quickly as Leonard looked up from adjusting his tricoder, not interrupting you but encouraging you to continue as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

You gave a breathy sigh as you continued. “Normally I’m not like this, I come to my physicals and everything but sometimes with more invasive stuff it comes back up and I can’t help it.”

You realized how confusing you sounded as the words seemed to tumble out of your mouth and probably figured it needed even further explanation as you saw the slight confusion flit in Leonard’s eyes for a brief moment at what “it” could be.

Taking a small breath, you continued before Leonard could interrupt your small moment of bravery. “I’d rather not go into details but let’s just say that my doctor I had while I was growing up lost his license for malpractice on his younger patients.” You winced slightly as you finished, thinking back on the memories.

Leonard sat still for a moment, his hands frozen in place on his tricoder as the implication of your words sunk in, the space between his eyebrows narrowed as his face flashed a brief scowl of disgust before smoothing out once more.

“You know I’d never do anything you don’t want me to right? And neither would any of my staff if I have anything to say about it.” Leonard said gently as he took your trembling hand into his that you didn’t even realize was shaking and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance.

“I know.” You wheezed out slightly, trying to suppress a cough as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “I know no one on board here wouldn’t, but I still can’t get past it sometimes.” You replied quietly, your voice small.

Leonard pursed his lips for a moment before patting your hand gently and grabbing his tricoder.

“We’ll talk more about that later, alright? Let’s get you feeling better first.” Leonard said as he squeezed your hand again gently. He then angled himself to better be able to run his tricoder over you. You nodded your permission, wanting to get this over with.

Your previous confession had seemed to exhaust you even further. You were glad that Leonard was choosing to wait for the discussion, you were too tired tonight.

Leonard worked quickly, seeing the tiredness in your posture. He ran the tricoder over your chest and along your back. His expression got more grim as he checked your lymphs and used his stethoscope to listen to your lungs.

“So how long have you been sick Y/N? You’ve passed a simple cold and gone all the way straight to pneumonia.” Leonard’s expression set in a slight scowl as he replaced his stethoscope around his neck with a quiet click.

“Uhm, maybe last week? The cough only started a couple days ago.” You said softly, trying not to encourage the doctors anger, you could see the vein in his forehead starting to bulge slightly.

“Dammit, Y/N. You should have said something sooner. We could have gotten to it quicker, so now it’s going to take longer… where did you even get pneumonia?” Leonard started to rant quietly as he fixed up a couple hypos.

You knew he was trying his best not to get upset, and you really couldn’t blame him. You’d probably be angry too if you had to deal with people dodging medical attention on a constant basis and making their symptoms worse on top of it.

You also knew where you got the pneumonia, and that person had sworn you to secrecy. So now you risked the wrath of the doctor if you lied or letting down a friend and you were debating on which was worse.

Unfortunately for you, or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, Leonard was too good at his job. Before you could even answer, he knew by your hesitation.

Leonard sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Jim. I’m gonna kill him. I should have known when you two canceled movie night. You never pass up an opportunity to torture me with old movies.”

“What can I say?” You smiled softly and shrugged. “Torturing you is half the fun of movie night.”

“I’m going to let that slide on account of your being sick.” Leonard said with a small sigh. “Now let’s get this started.”

You eyed the hypos warily and Leonard seemed to sense your unease.

“I wouldn’t give you anything without explaining it first. You know that right? I’m going to take care of you.” Leonard asked as he looked over at you, watching you nod. You knew he never would but shots of any kind still made you nervous.

“This one is a steroid and this one is an antibiotic. It’ll be a good start for now and hopefully help you breathing a little easier.” Leonard said as he rubbed your neck softly with his thumb before pressing the hypo gently to your neck.

Leonard was done almost as fast as you could blink and was then pulling you over gently across the couch. You didn’t protest, you felt exhausted down to your bones and happily laid across the warm spot that Leonard previously occupied.

“You rest here for a bit and I’ll be back soon to make you something to eat. I have another quick matter to attend to.” Leonard said with slightly narrowed eyes as he put a pillow behind your head and covered you with a blanket from the back of the couch.

You knew that matter was Jim and you couldn’t help but smile softly as you watched Leonard pack up his medkit. He kissed the top of your head gently before making his way out the door.

You quickly dug around in your pant pocket for your communicator, making yourself cough in the process. You quickly flipped it open and sent a 911 message to Jim. He’d know what it meant and you could only hope that he would read it in time before Leonard reached the bridge but you doubted the warning would do much good.

Taking a deep wheezy breath, you settled on the couch, already thankful that you could already breathe a little easier, you settled into a light doze, waiting for Leonard to return.

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