#five has an underground homework ring going on
Note
what happened isn’t he fifth year of the hogwarts au?
asdfASDF have i not mentioned it??? in their fifth year, Ben almost dies and Luther becomes a werewolf
needless to say... it’s a very eventful year for everyone
I figured a good way to mirror the show and Luther’s issues slash ape body would be to make him a werewolf
It definitely brings the siblings closer together in a way because here’s what they know about the wizarding world and werewolves: a) the wizarding world is like, super awful to werewolves and have a bajillion laws regarding them, b) an old DADA teacher was lowkey fired for being outed as a werewolf even though he was on wolfsbane potion and taking care of himself, and c) the only werewolf who attended hogwarts (according to Fred) was said professor who kept it a secret due to worrying he would be kicked out of Hogwarts
the family have no proof that Luther wouldn’t be kicked out of Hogwarts for his werewolf-ness so obviously they have to keep it a secret
on the bright side, they have access to a secret basement thanks to Five poking around that has been mainly cleared of booby traps and other unsafe things, that is also impossible for Luther to escape from considering his wolf form can’t exactly speak parseltongue
(because portrait!Dolores probably teaches the squad how to at the very least say “open” and “close” in parseltongue considering i’m pretty sure canon hp has non parseltongues being able to vaguely mimic enough to get in)
further bright side - Ben and Five are very good at potions and are capable of very very difficult potions, such as the Wolfsbane potion
(downside: Five is a very experimental potions maker and likes to try and improve upon current formulas. Ben complains but is secretly the same. The other siblings don’t think they should be experimenting with Luther’s anti-werewolf potion guys, come on what the fuck)
“This would be so much easier if you didn’t have a reputation for being such a goody two-shoes.” Five informs Luther crossly, because getting a mannequin to transfigure into a sleeping ‘Luther’ was harder than it should have been smh, if Luther had cultivated a reputation for never being where he should be like Five everything would be fine but no, Luther’s dorm mates would be suspicious if he was gone on every full moon night
(Diego, as the team resident bonus Gryffindor, gets to stay behind and make sure no one ‘wakes up’ Luther in the morning before everyone can smuggle the real Luther back into bed)
Ben blames himself honestly, because it’s theoretically his fault that they were in the Forbidden Forest on the full moon that night
(Ben has excelled in potions and herbology, he gets along with Neville like a house on fire, and he spends lots of time in the greenhouse. He wanted to gather some various plants and potions ingredients that you can only get on the full moon and - well - let’s just say the trip didn’t go as planned)
Five ends up doing a lot of the... I guess caretaking work?? He’s the one best equipped to go down into the Chamber of Secrets when Luther is wolfed out since he can just teleport if Luther tried to bite him or something (which he doesn’t because he’s docile on the wolfsbane potion
“I dropped care of magical creatures, this shouldn’t even be my responsibility.” Five complains, loudly
“Well Luther has the best grade in that class out of any of us.” Klaus points out, gesturing between him and Diego, who looks sour at the reminder that Luther does better at him in any class at all (though that rivalry died down a lot when Diego made the quidditch team tbh)
“Luther can’t take care of himself.” Allison says crossly.
“Hey.” Luther protests, “I mean, I know, but hey.”
“Well Fred says that the marauders - that’s the dudes who hung out with Lupin when he was a baby werewolf - became animagi so they could hang out with him on full moons and stuff.” Klaus interjects excitedly, “There’s this potion which should be totally easy for Five and Ben and - ”
“Absolutely not.” Ben cuts Klaus off, “We need to be focusing on getting ingredients for the Wolfsbane potion, and they’re not easy to come by. Plus the ones we can’t get are expensive.”
“We’re orphans, it’s not like we have our own money.” Diego points out grumpily, ignoring the weird look on Luther’s face that pops up every time Reginald is even vaguely referenced.
“The money isn’t a problem.” Five says dismissively, because he’s been squirreling money away in weird places for years and has a solid ring of tutoring, essay writing, and homework providing in place to get them at least some funds, “The issue is disguising our orders so that people won’t look at our lovely list of ingredients and be like ‘who the fuck is making this quantity of wolfsbane at hogwarts, where there aren’t supposed to be any werewolves’.”
“We could buy other potions ingredients as well and hide the wolfsbane ones among them?” Luther suggests tentatively.
Ben grimaces, “The expense...”
“I already told you it’s not an issue.” Five snaps, “Besides, I can always just steal some of the super expensive ones from the potions cupboards.”
“Why do you always jump to stealing.” An aggrieved Vanya complains, even though all of them know it’s because Five’s ability to ‘apparate’ within Hogwarts grounds makes him the best person they have for moving unseen around Hogwarts
“Ha, jump.”
“It’s not like we have the resources though.” Allison muses, because she’s a slytherin and resourcefulness is important to her, “I mean, what are they going to do if they find out? Throw us in Azkaban?”
Diego shrugs, “This is Hogwarts, probably the worst that will happen is detention.”
“We can handle detentions.” Ben says firmly, “We do what we have to do, to keep Luther safe.”
“Thanks guys,” Luther may actually sound a little choked up at the loyalty shown by his siblings.
Luther gets,,, very good at watching the moon ;3c
you could say... it’s very important to him in this au ;3c ;3c
“Wait guys. Guys.” Klaus slams his hands on the table during a study session, “We can finally figure out the answers to one of the age old questions!!”
“What?” Allison sounds more exhausted than Five feels.
“What happens if you put a werewolf on the moon.”
“I don’t think Luther will be able to be an astronaut.” Ben points out delicately, “You need like, really good science grades and stuff and... I mean, potions is sort of a science but not exactly one you can put on your muggle applications.”
“One more dream crushed.” Vanya mutters.
“Hear hear.”
#five is the reason some of his classmates are passing their classes#five has an underground homework ring going on#he's excelling in all his classes#but i'mma be real with u the only reason he's passing herbology is bc of ben#five is great with potions ingredients#they're like math formulas !!#but actually growing that shit? get out of here#dolores tutored him in charms and taught him a bunch of jinxes and curses#he's GREAT at ancient runes and loves arithmancy#is only passing astronomy thanks to luther's lengthy lectures#five forces his siblings to practice dueling with him where he can use his jumps bc he can't in class :/#sadly because the sibs don't have any contact with reggie (who was probably obliviated honestly) luther doesn't get to go to the moon#but he gets to be a werewolf so the moon does have significance in his life#idk what would happen to a werewolf on the moon tbh#maybe they'd explode??#or they might just be fine because their werewolfness is linked to the position of the moon rather than how much is visible?#hogwarts au#diego is very very good at quidditch#thank you ability to curve anything thrown#he's the teams best chaser in fucking years#five is also a brilliant flyer and would make for a fucking great seeker#if five had any desire at all to play quidditch which he thinks is a waste of time#klaus is an absolutely exceptional flyer but can't catch a ball to save his fucking life#i think allison might be on the quidditch team actually but i haven't decided a position for her#beater maybe????#she just seems athletic to me and would enjoy the attention that quidditch players get#the closest to a celebrity that she can be#Anonymous
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Izumi had come to the first day of school at the same time as Nezu, she knew she could have left an hour after him and still arrived on time, but she was anxious and hadn't wanted to wait.
She was in class one-A again, with Nezu as her homeroom teacher. The door wasn't as intimidating this time, she opened it wide enough to slip in without hesitation.
With a quick look at the board for the seating chart Izumi cursed Nezu in her head. The desks were staggered so the odd numbered rows all matched and the even numbered rows matched.
Izumi was placed in the second last row in front and between Aizawa and Yamada, in the last seat of the row closest to the wall, the seat that had been given to the person next to her wasn't known.
The room was empty so Izumi made her way to her desk and pulled out her laptop. She had work from her mathematics class she could work on as she waited for others to show up.
The first person to arrive was surprisingly her neighbor, the name on the board was Shirakumo Oboro, the blue haired boy skipped to his desk with a cheery smile spread on his lips.
"Hi, I'm Shirakumo Oboro." He introduced himself, there was a nervous edge to his voice.
"Nezu Izumi." She returned casually, there is a part of her freaking out over the fact that his voice is familiar as is the shape of his hair, but Izumi can't place from where.
Shirakumo's grin started to slip off his face, a small frown taking over. "Nezu as in our teacher Nezu?" He asked.
"Un, he adopted me two years ago. Don't worry, I've already graduated highschool, I'm just here for heroics." Izumi tried to reassure the boy that there would be no favoritism.
Shirakumo's eyes started to widen, and he looked like he was moments away from fainting.
"Are you okay?" Izumi asked, worried she had done something wrong.
"Already...but...why do high school again?" She heard him mumble.
"Oh, I graduated general studies only, I don't have the best control of my quirk. I was a late bloomer, only got it a few years ago." Izumi shared, still unsure as to what she had said wrong.
"Oh so it's like high specs then?" Shirakumo asked, he was starting to get some color back on his face.
"Oh, no. I have electrokinesis that should form energy whips." Once again Shirakumo loses color, but Izumi's attention is dragged away by Aizawa skulking into the room.
Izumi waits for him to find his seat next to the wall to stand and walk over to him.
"I'm Nezu Izumi. I just wanted to thank you, without you I would have died from blood loss." She tells the dark haired boy as she gives a small bow.
Aizawa grunts at her and looks at the scar that is barely visible at the hem of her skirt.
Behind her Shirakumo yelps and asks. "Died from blood loss?"
Izumi looks over her shoulder and blinks at the boy before giving a shrug. She doesn't really want to talk about it, but it seems Aizawa will.
"Yeah, the problem female got pinned by half a building and almost bled out." He shrugs too, Izumi is glad that he seems unaffected by what had happened.
Izumi holds her hand out for a hand shake and says hopefully. "I hope we can be friends Aizawa-kun."
Aizawa's eyes sharpened and he crossed his arms. "I'm not here to make friends, and I never gave you my name, you stalking me?" His voice has a faint growl, and Izumi blinks at him dumbly.
"Your name is on the board, I figured logically that was your name as it's the one assigned to this desk." Izumi is pulling on her knowledge of future Aizawa as she addresses his question.
The door interrupts any other conversation when it opens and a cluster of students come in. Izumi doesn't recognize any of them, briefly she wonders if Nezu is like Aizawa and has a high expulsion rate.
Sitting back in her seat, giving up for the moment at making Aizawa her friend, she goes back to her online homework.
At five minutes to the beginning of class the door slams open roughly catching Izumi's attention, Yamada struts through the door in a rather comical way. His eyes scan the class before he all but skips over to Izumi.
"Izumi-chan!" He exclaimed when he's only a few steps away from her. "What are the chances that my damsel in distress is in my class!"
Izumi blushes a deep cherry red and sputters.
She's saved by Shirakumo. "Shirakumo Oboro, did you also help Nezu-san from bleeding out in the exam?" Izumi rethinks her thoughts of Shirakumo saving her, he's a traitor.
Yamada gasps and hauls her up from her chair. "You WHAT?" His voice slips into his quirk, making Izumi's ears ring.
"Shhhhhh." Izumi says loudly, as she hangs from Yamada hold. "Nezu-sensei will be here soon, get to your seat Yamada-kun."
It's just as Yamada's name passes her lips that the stoat slips into the room, Izumi tracks him with her eyes. She's embarrassed that she's still being held in the air by her armpits when Nezu makes eye contact with her, a gleam of something sadistic in his eyes.
"Everyone to your seats!" He says and claps his paws together.
The class is quiet, and then a large portion of the class starts exclaiming over an animal being their teacher. Izumi isn't really all that surprised, humans usually are horrible creatures that believe they are the highest on any scale.
"How lovely." Nezu comments, his smile turning predatory. "Anyone who has an issue with me teaching may go speak with the principal." Ten of the twenty-two students in the room get up and walk out, Nezu's smile gets sharper.
"Good now that we have weeded out the weak." Izumi shivers a little, still being held up by Yamada.
Huffing a breath she kicks out her leg and hits the blond male in the meat of the thigh, he yelps and let's go of her quickly.
"Please take your seat Yamada-kun." Nezu directs again before moving on. "I am Nezu, I will be your homeroom teacher for as long as you are in the hero course. My quirk, high specs gives me one of the highest IQ ever recorded. Now we will be doing some assessment, I would like you in groups of four please."
Shirakumo and Yamada both look at her, one because he's been told she's smart and the other she assumes because she's the only one he had gotten a chance to speak to.
Looking between the two she points at Aizawa. "Only if he agrees to join too."
Aizawa looks at her, scandalized. "Don't drag me into your loud person group." He all but snaps.
"Sorry Aizawa-kun, but you're stuck with me. You saved me so you're automatically my friend." Izumi tells him in a deadpan voice.
Nezu appears at Izumi's side between her and Shirakumo, his smile is full of teeth. "Izumi, here is a scenario." He hands her a flash card. "With your group, find the best solution you can, if you were a hero."
Izumi looks at the card, she hadn't been allowed to help write up the scenarios, but she knew it was meant to be if they as a group were in the scenario how they would use their quirks for the best solution.
"Sure, any handicaps I need to know about dad?" She doesn't really think anything of calling him dad, but has second thoughts when the three males around her sputter.
"No pup, but remember I'm your sensei here." He pats her knee affectionately and walks away.
"Dad?" Yamada whisper-yells, Izumi can tell how hard he's working not to use his quirk.
"Oh, right. Yea Nezu adopted me two years ago, just after my quirk developed." She told the two boys who weren't there before.
Turning to read the scenario Izumi just misses the way the three males all look at eachother alarmed, the smartest being ever adopted a child that if they are reading things right had a forced manisafasion late in life.
"An unknown number of villains has a group of twenty hostages, they also have enhancement drugs. They have taken over a small cafe, and are demanding a fellow villain be released from prison. Your team of four has less than an hour. Use the quirks available." Izumi reads off the card.
"Okay, so tell me your quirks." She demands when the boys are silent she huffs and offers her own first. "I have electrokinesis that allows me to make energy whips."
"I create clouds?" Shirakumo asks more than answers her question, the itch at the back of her mind telling her she knows this boy gets worse.
"Oh! Mine is voice! Well my voice gets really loud and I can hit really crazy frequencies!" Yamada explains excitedly.
Aizawa just glares at Izumi like she asked him to kill a kitten.
"I can just ask Nezu-sensei or you can tell me. I already told you, you saved me. It automatically makes you my friend. Yamada saved me too, from a less life threatening event, but saved me nonetheless. Shirakumo hasn't saved me yet but I'm sure he will at some point so he's gonna be my friend too. So we are all friends here!" Izumi threatens and rambles.
"I can erase quirks." Aizawa sounds like he's in pain telling her that.
Izumi makes her eyes go wide like she's surprised and starts to ramble at him like she had always wanted to.
"Oh my god! That's so amazing! How long can you hold it? What are the tells? Is it all quirk types you erase? Is there a limit to how many? Can you erase your own quirk? What would happen to dad if you erased his quirk? If someone has a longevity quirk if you erase it do they age rapidly? You plan on underground heroics?"
Aizawa's looking at her with an expression between lost and fascinated. "Yeah, I want to go underground." Is all he says, Izumi huffs again exasperated with the lack of actual answers.
"Shirakumo, are your clouds solid? Like if I stepped on one would I fall through?" She asks, it's important to know for this exercise.
"Uh, yeah?" The blue haired boy sounds lost and Izumi is about ready to give up with the male.
"Great, so for this scenario I would have Aizawa sneak into the building and survey the area, Yamada and Shirakumo would be a distraction, I myself would take out the power to the building. Priority would be getting the hostages out, second would be capture. No plan actually survives contact so it's best that we could keep communication, my quirk has the most versatility so I would be front line, Shirakumo would be on evacuation, Yamada would be my visible back up, and Aizawa would be behind the scenes back up." Izumi tells them her idea, she's expecting a little bit of resistance, they are boys and in her experience boys don't like being told what to do by girls.
"Holy shit." Yamada whisper-yells, his eyes wide with shock and awe.
Aizawa grunts at her, he's giving her a once over again, like he's reassessing his original thoughts.
Shirakumo looks to be a little afraid of her as he nods along. "Did you know she's already graduated high school?" He asks in what Izumi assumes he thinks is a whisper.
"I have my teaching and quirk counseling license." She corrects, and then freezes.
"HOLY SHIT!" Yamada slips into using his quirk. Aizawa's eyes flash red and his hair floats. Shirakumo starts to cry.
Izumi just wants to disappear, she really wishes she had an invisibility quirk.
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Tender Surprises
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (biker!au)
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: language, Brock Rumlow gets a well deserved punch in the face
Summary: On Bucky’s birthday, your son has a very important question to ask him. And it may just be the greatest gift anyone has ever given him.
Feedback is always welcomed and encouraged! (:
Bucky collapsed on the couch next to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. You leaned up, giving him a light peck on the cheek before resting your head on his chest. It had been quite the day for both of you.
Today was Bucky's thirty-sixth birthday. You and your son, Tyler, had planned the whole day out for him to celebrate. It started with an early morning breakfast in bed; Tyler claimed he made most of it, but he couldn't work a toaster to save his life. Once breakfast finished, you packed up the car and headed to the beach. Bucky had told you weeks in advance that he didn't want to do anything too crazy for his birthday, so you agreed a family beach trip would be perfect. And it was.
You spent most of the time lounging in a beach chair with a book, while Tyler kept Bucky busy working on "the biggest hole in the universe." Even if Bucky denied it, you knew he was just as excited to see how deep they could dig together.
You stayed at the beach until the sun began to set. Tyler whined about not wanting to leave, but he passed out quickly on the drive back home. Bucky held your hand the entire ride home. The best of Journey played softly in the background. It was incredibly peaceful. You, yourself, could have fallen asleep right there, but you didn't want to make Bucky drive all the way home with no one to talk to.
But now that you were back home, it was time for presents, and Tyler was already bouncing off the walls again. He was excited to give Bucky the present he picked out.
"Before you open the box, you have to read this letter first!" Tyler handed him a haphazardly wrapped box with a piece of paper taped on top of it. The letter had been your idea. You thought it would be the perfect lead up to what his present was. "And read it out loud!"
Bucky carefully pulled the tape off of the paper and cleared his throat. "Dear Bucky, when we first met, I was seven years old. Mom and I had moved in across the street, and you were the scary biker guy that our real estate lady warned us about. Mom and I didn't believe her, by the way."
The sun was brutal today. There was not a single cloud in the sky to block it out, and it had been beating down on Bucky all day. His shirt stuck to his back, and he knew he was dripping with sweat, but he had to finish working on the motorcycle for one of his clients. They were paying him extra to get it done before the weekend. And he could never turn down money.
He groaned and pulled his shirt off, using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Even with his hair up in a bun, sweat still managed to drip down into his eyes.
He really hated Florida sometimes.
"Are you in a gang?" Bucky's head snapped up in surprise at hearing a kid's voice.
A young boy stood on the other side of the motorcycle. His big brown eyes stared at Bucky curiously. There wasn't a sense of fear or worry about being so close to a stranger in them. Just idle curiosity.
"Where are your parents, kid?"
The young boy pointed to the house directly across the street from Bucky's. "My mom is making lunch right now. And my dad, well, he went to the store to buy milk. That was 4 years ago, so I think he might have gotten lost."
Bucky coughed, trying to hide the obvious shock that hit him. For a kid, he was very observant.
"We prefer to call it a club," Bucky chuckled. "We'd have to do a lot more illegal stuff to be considered a gang. I think we're pretty mild."
"Marcy said that my mom shouldn't move into our house because you and your gang sell drugs on the weekend."
"And what did your mom say about that?"
"She laughed and asked what kind of drugs you sell. She made a joke about brownies that Marcy didn't find amusing at all."
Bucky let out a loud laugh. Marcy had been a pain in his ass the day she started selling homes near his. She spread all sorts of rumors about him and his club to try and get the neighborhood to rally against him. Some days he'd be a pimp running an underground prostitution ring, and others he'd be a drug lord who kept sharks in his pool. It was ridiculous.
The locals knew The Winter Riders were a tame motorcycle club, though. They met at the VFW on Saturdays, played some pool and occasionally got rowdy if they had one too many drinks. Most of its members were veterans, and they didn't want to start any trouble if they didn't have to. Of course, they had been caught dealing a few beatings to well deserved men. Sometimes they'd get a little too handsy with the bar staff and needed a reminder on why they shouldn't do that. No one ever got arrested though; Bucky knew the right people down at the police department.
"Tyler, what did I tell you about talking to strangers?" You stood at the end of Bucky's driveway, your hands on your hips.
Tyler shrugged. "You said only to talk to strangers if they're a good person for you to have sex with."
Your eyes grew wide, and you could feel the embarrassment crashing down on you. Bucky bit his lip to keep himself from laughing and looked over at you. He raised his eyebrows in amusement, but you weren't looking at him. You were trying to look at anything but him.
"I said that as a joke!" You groaned. "Just. . .get inside. I have a surprise for you on the table!"
"Is it an Xbox?" Tyler gasped.
You gasped as well, keeping a huge smile on your face, and placed your hands on your knees so you were eye level with him. "No! It's your overdue homework that you need to turn in tomorrow!"
The smile on Tyler's face dropped, and he grumbled a quick goodbye to Bucky before storming off into the house. Your relationship with your son intrigued Bucky. You didn't seem upset by the sex candidate comment. Embarrassed, but not upset. Most parents wouldn't even let their kids know what sex was before the age of eighteen.
"Sorry about that," you apologized. "He and I have an open communication policy. I don't hide anything from him, and he doesn't hide anything from me. Apparently, that bites me in the ass sometimes."
"It's okay, really. He seems like a great kid."
Bucky used his shirt to wipe the grease from his hands and stood up. You eyed his shirtless body, trying not to make it obvious that you were loving the sight of his tattoos. He walked over to you and held his hand out, which you gladly shook.
"I'm James, by the way. Most of my friends call me Bucky." He flashed you a smile that had your heart stop in your chest.
Oh boy was he going to be trouble for you.
"Y/N. I don't have a nickname as interesting as yours," you said as you turned to head back to your house. "I should get back inside and make sure he's actually doing his homework. It was nice to meet you, Bucky."
"It was nice to meet you too."
Bucky smiled at the memory of meeting you and Tyler. He never would have expected that encounter to change his life. He couldn't even believe six years had passed since that day. Time sure did fly by.
"I knew you were going to be in our lives for a long time when mom came back smiling that day," Bucky continued. He glanced down at you, but you hid your face against his chest to keep him from seeing the cheesy smile on your face.
"There are a lot of moments that I appreciate, so I'm just going to list off the ones I enjoyed the most. One: the day you let me ride on the motorcycle with you. Two: the fishing trip with you, Uncle Sam, and Uncle Steve where you ended up tipping your canoe. Three: that one time I found the naughty video of you and mom, and you paid me not to tell anyone."
You jolted up and glared over at Bucky. You knew about the video - you had been the one to suggest you tape it - but you didn't know that Tyler stumbled upon it! Bucky's face turned red, and he kept his focus on the paper in his hands. He really didn't want to see the death glare you were giving him.
In his defense, you labelling it as a kid's show in hopes of disguising it was probably not the best idea.
"Four: the day you took me out for ice cream and asked for my permission to marry mom. And five: the day you punched my real-but-not-real father in the face."
Sam and Steve were sat on Bucky's couch, laughing about something that happened with Clint at the VFW last night. They hadn't gotten to the full story yet because they were laughing too hard. Whatever it was, Bucky hoped they got it on video. If it was as funny as they were making it seem, he wanted to see it for himself.
Their laughter was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell going off repeatedly. Bucky sat up and tried to see who was at the door through the window but couldn't see anybody. When the doorbells went unanswered, the person on the other side began knocking.
"Just a sec! I'm coming!" Bucky shouted as he walked over to the door.
When he swung it open, his gaze fell to Tyler, who's chest was heaving up and down like he had just ran over here. His eyes were wide with terror. Bucky had never seen him like this before, and he suddenly felt terrified about what the kid was going to tell him.
"My," Tyler paused and tried to catch his breath, "My dad. My dad is here. He's fighting with my mom."
As soon as he said this, Bucky heard you shouting from your driveway. He couldn't make out what was being said, but he saw the way your ex was towering over you - trying to intimidate you. Anger bubbled inside of his chest. He was going to end up doing something he'd regret later, but it'd be worth it.
"You want us to come with you, Buck?" Steve asked as he helped Tyler through the door.
Bucky shook his head. "No. You and Sam watch Ty. I've got to take care of this myself."
He gave Tyler a comforting look before stomping down the driveway. As he got closer, he could finally hear what you two were yelling about.
"I have a right to see my kid, Y/N!" Brock shouted, pointing towards the house. He obviously didn't know Tyler already took off to Bucky's house.
You scoffed. "You haven't tried seeing him or speaking to him since he was a toddler! He doesn't even really know you! And in case you don't remember, you signed away your rights when you decided to move in with your eighteen-year-old secretary and realized you didn't want to pay child support!"
Brock shot his hand out and gripped onto your arm, eliciting a small whimper from you. His grip was so tight, you could feel his fingernails starting to break your skin.
"Do not talk to me like that again, you bitch. I deserve to see my son, and I don't care what I hav-"
His threat was cut off by Bucky slamming his fist into his jaw. You gasped. In the year that you had known Bucky, you had never seen him act violently towards anyone. It had caught you by surprise, but you didn't mind. Brock deserved getting socked in the face. He was a dick.
Bucky pulled Brock up by the collar of his shirt and pressed his back against his fancy SUV. You thought Brock was going to fight back, but he just stayed limp in Bucky's grip. You should have felt bad for him, or at the very least pretended to, but you didn't have the energy to muster up that much face emotion.
"Don't ever put your hands on her again, you got that?" Bucky growled. "She's told me enough about you, and I will not hesitate to knock your teeth out if I even see you look in her direction right now."
"But she-"
"Is a vital part of this town. As soon as everyone hears about what you did, you're never going to be welcome here again. So, do yourself a favor and get lost, pal. And don't come back. Tyler doesn't want you in his life, he's got a new family now, and you didn't make the cut to be in it."
Bucky shoved him backwards and stepped in front of you, making sure you were shielded if Brock tried anything stupid. He was probably trying to debate whether taking Bucky on would be worth it or not. Brock was just as fit as Bucky, but the look in Bucky's eye warned him not to try it.
You both watched in amusement as he scrambled into his SUV and took off down the road. Bucky turned to ask if you were okay, but he was cut off by your lips pressing against his.
You quickly pulled away and slapped your hand over your mouth. "I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have done that, but I-"
Bucky gently wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and pulled your lips back onto his. You melted into the kiss almost instantly. He felt the little sigh you let out and knew you were okay with this. It had caught you both by surprise, but boy was it worth it.
That day changed your lives, literally, forever. You and Bucky started dating after that day, and Tyler had been in complete awe of him. He looked up to him. He constantly told other kid's in his class that Bucky was secretly a superhero who saved his mom.
Brock stayed away after that. You weren't sure what sparked his sudden interest in wanting to get to know Tyler, but the pit in your stomach when you saw him told you that it couldn't be for good reasons. You figured since it was around tax time, he was going to try and claim Tyler as a dependent to get more money. Tax fraud was something you wouldn't be surprised about him doing.
Bucky took a deep breath. He could already feel the lump in his throat starting to form. He didn't want to get emotional, but the kid knew how to pull at a man's heartstrings.
"You have been in my life for six years now and married to mom for three of those. You have spent those years showing me how a real dad treats his son. You're open and honest, even when I ask uncomfortable questions. Like that time I asked about the scars hidden under your tattoos. You never yell or hit me. You're only grumpy in the morning when you haven't had your cup of coffee. You also love me. You show it- you show it-" Bucky sniffled and covered his face with the letter. A few tears fell from his eyes as he let out a shaky breath.
Reading this was a lot harder than he expected it to be.
You smiled up at your husband and gave his shoulder a comforting rub. Tears were already prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you were trying to keep it together for him.
"You show it in more ways than one. You show it when you leave cool drawings in my lunch box. You show it by reminding me to put on my seatbelt or tighten the straps on my helmet, if we're riding the motorcycle. You always make sure to tell me you love me, too. You say that it's important for us guys to be comfortable with showing emotion, so you always make sure I know that."
Bucky reached over and pulled Tyler close to him. He placed a tender kiss on the top of his head before continuing with the letter.
"I'm running out of time and my teacher is glaring at me, so I think she knows I'm not doing my vocabulary work. Do you remember the time I first called you "dad"? It had been an accident, but I'm not sure if I wanted to take it back."
It was just a few days after Tyler's ninth birthday. You had been putting so much work into making sure it was perfect that you were still exhausted. Since it was your day off, Bucky offered to watch Tyler while you caught up on your sleep. You did not need to be told twice.
Tyler had gotten home from school and was working on his homework in the living room. Books were spread out over the coffee table, and Bucky occasionally heard a grumbled complaint from him about how stupid math was. He thought about explaining the importance of math but decided to stay quiet in fear of distracting him.
Tyler was too good at getting Bucky to rabbit trail and turn a five-minute story into a thirty minute one.
"What's the Py-thag-o-ree-in thee-o-rum?" He asked, looking up at Bucky in desperation.
"It helps you find the slanty edge, also called a hypotenuse, of a right-angled triangle," Bucky explained. "It's A squared plus B squared equals C squared."
"Oh. Okay! Thanks, dad."
The word made both of them freeze in their spots. It had felt so natural to be called dad, but he never expected Tyler to actually say it. It wasn't a bad thing at all - just very unexpected.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I don't know why I said that. That was stupid."
Bucky shifted off of the couch and took a seat next to him on the floor. "Woah, hey, no. I don't want you to be sorry for that. I know me and your mom aren't married yet, but I consider you to be my son. You don't have to call me dad if you don't want to, but you can. I'm not going to get upset by that. You call me whatever you're comfortable with."
Tyler nodded slowly and returned to his homework. He didn't press on the issue anymore after that. Bucky knew that when the time was right, he could talk about it again. All he needed was a little bit of reassurance.
"I knew that day you were my real dad. I spent a lot of time talking to mom about it, and we both agreed that it was time to make it official. Will you adopt me?"
Bucky reread the last part more than once. His hands shook as he did, and he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now. Tyler wanted to be adopted by him. He couldn't believe it.
You gently took the letter from his hands and placed it on the coffee table. You gestured him to open the box in his lap. No words felt good enough to say right now, so you stayed quiet, but your heart was bursting with joy.
Bucky opened the box and saw the stack of papers that were waiting for him. It was all the paperwork that was required to go through with the adoption. Everything was already filled out, though. All it needed was Bucky's signature.
He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, a strangled sob escaping his lips. Tyler looked over at you, worried that Bucky didn't want to do it, but you gave him a reassuring smile.
He's crying because he's happy, you mouthed to him. He nodded in understanding.
"C'mere," Bucky cried as he pulled Tyler into a bone-crushing hug. "Yes, yes I will adopt you. Are you kidding me? This is the best birthday present anyone could ever give me, kid."
And it was. It really, really was.
Marvel Tag: @killcomet
#bucky barnes#biker!bucky#biker!au#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#james buchanan barnes#marvel#mcu#marvel one shot#marvel one shots#marvel imagines#marvel imagine#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic
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Flying True
Title: Flying True
(formerly ‘True’)
Author: Gumnut
2 – 8 Aug 2019
Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS
Rating: Teen
Summary: It was the core philosophy of International Rescue. And he broke it.
Word count: 5571
Spoilers & warnings: Angst, injury, blood, some language
Timeline: Standalone
Author’s note: Nutty’s Fandomversary Fic Nine – Prompt: Scott and ‘stay gold’ for @lightning1999 thank you for all your wonderful support :D
This one was stubborn and I had to fight like crazy. Many thanks to both @scribbles97 and @vegetacide for their patience and reading. This ‘ficlet’ took an entire week to write ::glares at it:: There is an optional epilogue that I might post later, but for the moment this is the entirety of the fic. I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.
-o-o-o-
He cradled his brother.
Virgil was limp beneath his hands, barely breathing, blood dribbling down his cheek, the remains of the bubbling cough that had sent him under.
“John, tell me the GDF are coming.” His own voice was harsh in his ears.
“They’re not coming.”
“Please, John.”
“Trust me, I have tried.” His brother’s voice was filled with the same desperation in his own.
“We need evac and the bastard is still here. Can’t they-“
“Scott! He’s done his homework, you’re now in a no-fly zone. Aunt Val has them on the ground, but it is going to be over an hour.”
“They can’t-“ I can’t, I can’t...
The warmth seeping out between his fingers was determined, pulsing with Virgil’s heart. God, please, no.
“There is no rescue, Commander Tracy.” The ‘commander’ came out as snarl. “Not unless you would like to invite another of your brothers to this little party?”
There were two snarls and a forceful expletive over the comm line.
“Or perhaps a sister? A grandmother would be interesting. Then there is that little mastermind of yours. I’d be very interested in meeting him.”
“No...nothing.” It was rasped and little more than a whisper.
“Virg, stay still.” His brother’s eyes were fluttering, desperately trying to open.
“Don...don’t let him.”
“He won’t, I promise.”
“And what exactly do you think you can stop me from doing?”
Scott didn’t answer. The presence of his brother was the only thing stopping him from planting a fist in the bastard’s face.
That and the gun that had already shot Virgil in the chest.
The call had come in just after the sun had disappeared over the horizon on Tracy Island. Tourist fallen in an abandoned gas mine in the middle of the Australian Outback.
It was pure chance that Scott had chosen to go with Virgil. It had been a rare night with just the two of them on the Island and they had been looking forward to a little alcohol and brotherly bonding. Didn’t happen often.
Didn’t happen tonight.
It was obviously a Thunderbird Two call out, but Scott, used to it but no less annoyed, was determined to spend the evening with his brother. Thunderbird One followed her sister off the Island and the sun rose in the west.
As per usual, Scott hit ground before Virgil, but had to wait for the green behemoth because she held the equipment needed. A jeep sat abandoned not far off. Scans of the hole in the ground revealed the single life sign John had reported.
Part of the mine had caved in.
The job required heavy lifting and Virgil donned his suit and down he went. Twenty minutes later, Scott was assisting a shaken tourist to his feet as Virgil climbed out of the hole in the ground.
The man stared up at Scott and a smirk curled his lips. “Him, I expected. You, not so much. But then that is fortunate, because you might be worth just that little bit more.” And the ‘victim’ pulled a gun and shot Virgil point blank.
Scott would never forget the surprise on his gentle brother’s face, the shock, quickly followed by the pain.
And his suited body falling back over the lip of the mine.
The suit.
The exo-suit.
Apparently, the bastard hadn’t counted on that piece of hardware either.
Virgil was rigged for cave and mine rescue. His left arm came up and his built-in grapple gun fired. The target, his own ‘bird. The grapple thunked and instead of plummeting into the abyss, his falling body pivoted on one foot and was dragged past his attacker, coming to rest in a heap beside Scott.
God.
He didn’t hesitate, fumbling at his brother’s suit, turning him over.
The neat hole in his uniform was ringed in a fast spreading halo of red.
“Shit, that hurts.” More breath than anything else.
“Stay still.” Virg, oh god. Ribcage. His paramedic training came to the fore. Pressure, elevate, prevent air getting into the lung cavity...
“I wouldn’t bother. He is going to die. And if he doesn’t, well, I’ll make sure he does.” The gun came up again.
“No, oh god, no, don’t!” He threw himself across his brother. Please, no. How had this happened so quickly? A night of brotherly chat and now they were lying in the dust of a godawful desert with some asshole trying to kill them.
“Hmm.” The gun was casually waved through the air above them. “Maybe you are right. He could be useful.”
“What the hell do you want?”
“Want? Money. Simple as that. You have it, I want it. All I need is one of you and the rest will pay. Hell, the world will pay for one of the Tracy brothers. God awful saviours of humanity.”
Scott didn’t think it was possible to get angrier. Apparently, it was. “You lured us here with a fake rescue in order to kidnap and hold one of us for ransom.”
“You’ve got it in one. You are billionaires, after all. A couple billion should be enough for the eldest Tracy, shouldn’t it.” The gun gestured in Virgil’s direction. “If he lives, an extra few million wouldn’t hurt.”
Virgil shuddered under his hands and attempted to pull himself out of his exo-suit. His fingers brushed the buttons that released his uniform and the frame slipped off his body. A groan and he had one arm out before the gunman started waving the weapon around again. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Ne-need to breathe.” It ended in a gasp and then Virgil was coughing.
Scott reacted, ignoring the threat and pulling off his brother’s helmet, attempting to free him from the suit’s framework.
Blood dribbled out the corner of Virgil’s mouth as his eyes rolled up in his head and his body fell limp.
“Virgil!”
Elevate, pressure, prevent air from getting into the lung cavity...
He gently lifted his brother into his arms, propping him up and rolling him onto his side, his head resting against Scott’s chest.
Check breathing, pulse...c’mon, Virgil, don’t do this...
“Is he dead yet?”
“Fuck you.”
“Hoo, the role model of a generation has a tongue on him after all.” The bastard crouched down and sat back on his heels. “Oh, if you think the GDF will be coming to save your asses, think again.” The man held up a control device and pressed a button. The ground rumbled and shook. The plain around them cracked in places, soil collapsing in on itself. A haze drifted across the ground. “Ah, the wonderful fragrance of hydromethane in the evening.” The man smirked. “You’re not going anywhere in those rockets of yours and no one is flying in.” The smirk became a grin. “This abandoned mine network has just enough left to create a lovely cloud of flammable gas for your entertainment. Now, tell that Eye in the Sky brother of yours that they can have you back in mostly one piece if they transfer the money to an account number I will give you shortly.”
So followed a negotiation with Thunderbird Five that sported more expletives than he had ever heard from his quiet brother. Two other brothers were looped into the conversation on delay. Gordon and Alan were on Mars chasing up that professor who had discovered the underground rivers of Mars and then promptly got himself stuck in one. Kayo’s colourful expressions were launched from the far side of the Arctic circle. She was caught up with the Chaos Crew, but dropped everything immediately and was tearing across the planet as they spoke.
She wasn’t going to get there fast enough.
And neither was the GDF.
“John, tell me you can get an ident on this guy.”
“I’ve been trying. Could be a holographic mask for all the result I’m getting. Eos is hacking the GDF intelligence division as we speak.”
Shit. “Be careful.”
“We will do what we need to do, Scott.”
He closed his eyes for just a moment.
The earth rumbled under him and suddenly everything was shaking. Metres to his left the soil collapsed and a crack opened up, gaping to the sky.
The gunman clambered to his feet. The smell of hydromethane increased. Scott coughed and Virgil’s breathing staggered. Hell.
“We’ve got to move.”
Their assailant didn’t answer. He stood staring at the crack, puzzlement on his face.
The earth gave a deep-seated groan and shook again, more cracks appearing.
A blink and the dirt beneath the man’s feet collapsed, taking him with it.
Scott froze for a split second before tightening his hold on Virgil and scrambling backwards as the newly formed crack tracked its way towards the two brothers. The abandoned exo-suit half slipped into the crevice.
The movement aggravated Virgil, the younger man coughing weakly into Scott’s chest, crimson splattering on the blue of his uniform. “Sc-t.”
“Hell, Virg, sorry. Need to get you onto Two.” The gun was gone. They were free. It was the only fact registering on his mind.
“Help!”
Scott wasn’t game to leave Virgil out here so he could grab a stretcher. The ground was still groaning. Moving him was going to be unsafe, but he couldn’t leave his brother out here with the very ground falling around them.
But he could drag him.
“Help me! Please!”
Easing his brother into a secure grip, hands under his arms, he relied on Virgil’s tough uniform to take the brunt of the abrasion and carefully began dragging his brother towards Two.
“God, please help me! I’m bleeding!”
Virgil groaned as they moved, his head falling against Scott’s arm. “Sc-t needs help.”
“It’s okay, Virgil, we’re nearly there.”
“Please help me!”
“Needs help.” Virgil attempted to sit up. “Sc-t needs help.” His brother’s voice was little more than a rasp. Blood bubbled on his lips. “Need to h-lp.”
“Stay still!”
“Needs help. Got-ta h-lp.” His hand came up and hit his comms. “J-hn, situation.”
“Virgil!” He stopped, crouched down and gathered his brother in his arms, the man was likely suffering hypoxia. A quick check of his vitals had no good news.
“Scott, I’m reading surface instability for at least a kilometre radius.” There were unspoken questions in John’s words. “You need to get out of there.”
“John.” His voice was a harsh rasp almost as bad as Virgil’s. “The bastard fell in a hole.” He leveraged Virgil gently and began dragging him again. His brother was restless, muttering about help and rescue.
“God, please don’t leave me!”
The nerve...Scott killed the thought as Virgil responded to the voice in the distance, again struggling to sit up. He held him firm, finally reaching down to activate his brother’s holographic interface on his left arm, commanding the ship to lower its hatch.
It did so with the familiar clunk and hiss.
He dragged his brother aboard.
“Please don’t!” It was faint now and once the hatch was swallowed by TB2 it was shut out.
The only sound remaining was Virgil’s bubbling breath.
“Sc-t, need t-sve.”
“C’mon, bro, let’s get you safe.”
“Safe, need to safe.” Virgil’s eyes were barely open, his body limp in Scott’s hands.
He gently lay his brother on his side and pulled down the gurney. Activating its hoverjets and disengaging it from the wall, he lowered it to the deck and manhandled his brother on to its padded surface. A gentle motion and he redocked it.
Alarms started screeching immediately.
Oxygen, elevate, stop the bleeding, manage the air intake, watch for tension pneumothorax, get him to a hospital...
Get him to a hospital.
Thunderbird Two has something her sister did not.
She had wheels.
His brother continued to mumble, his head moving in aggravation. Scott secured him to the bed and primed the monitors to alert him to any changes.
Two steps and he was in his brother’s pilot’s chair. Flipping switches, he brought the giant cargo plane to life and rigged her for extended taxi.
She wasn’t built for this. Taxiing on a runway, yes. Across rock strewn desert sand? Not so much. She didn’t have a great deal of clearance and Virgil would likely kick his ass for the damage this little trip was going to cause, but there was no choice.
Choice.
His heart hardened.
As if reading that heart, his brother moaned. “S-tuation, need to h-lp Scott, need to help.” The words faded into a bubbling cough.
Scott engaged the engines and TB2 turned her back on the danger zone. A shift in the controls and his brother’s big green bird made her escape.
-o-o-o-
It took forever.
A forever punctuated by struggling breath and mumbled words that faded to unconsciousness. But as soon as the hydromethane concentration dropped below the explosive mark, Scott engaged VTOL, lifting the great ship off the abrasive desert floor. Enough clearance and the Thunderbird breathed her name as he kicked in her rear thrusters. She shot forward as if elated to be free from the godawful ground. Course allocation and their ETA shrunk from hours to minutes as they targeted the Western Australian city of Perth and her medical facilities.
Minutes.
And he was requesting landing clearance from Australian Air Control.
Minutes.
Two’s great landing feet sunk into the turf of the elegant gardens in front of Royal Perth Hospital.
Minutes.
Moving his terrifyingly still brother from his cockpit to the hands of medical staff.
Minutes.
Thunderbird Shadow landing beside her sister. Kayo darting out of her ‘bird, worried eyes catching his. Her gloved hand on his cheek as they turned to follow their brother into the massive hospital building.
Hours.
Plastic chairs. The inevitable media shitstorm. Police. Colonel Casey. Questions.
John appearing at his shoulder, fire in his eyes.
And finally, sudden quiet as his brother corralled him into an empty room and shut the world out.
Quiet except for the blood pressure roaring in his ears.
The soles of his uniform footwear peeled off the linoleum as he paced.
Back and forth.
“He is still in surgery.” The sentence said more than it said.
“I know.” John stood quietly to one side. Kayo was off organising security for their brother, terrorising hospital staff in the process.
“He just shot him.” Simple words, so much pain. “For money. The bastard just wanted money.”
Back and forth.
“He didn’t have to shoot him. Why did he shoot him? Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, he won’t be doing it again. Our lawyers will see he pays.”
“Scott-“
“God, what if Virgil doesn’t fully recover? What if he can’t...” No, Virg would be okay. He had to be. “I’ll show the bastard exactly what that money can do.”
Quiet. “Scott, he’s dead.”
It took a moment for John’s words to register. “What?”
“Virgil’s assailant died shortly after you left. The hole he fell into collapsed, he was buried and suffocated. The GDF are on recovery. It is going to take a while for the gas to dissipate. We won’t be able to retrieve Thunderbird One until at least the day after - woah, Scott!”
His legs were suddenly jello and unable to support him. His heart was in his throat and breathing was impossible. His brother’s hands caught him, dragging him across the room to a chair. His butt hit plastic and a pair of turquoise eyes filled his vision.
“Scott, you with me?” Cool, ever calm, John’s voice was a balm.
Blink.
“I ignored him. I could have saved him.”
“You had to get Virgil out. You did everything you could.”
He shook his head and the world spun just that little off kilter. “No, no, I didn’t. I heard him. He needed saving. But I...didn’t.”
Those turquoise eyes flinched. “You did what you had to do.”
Voice raw. “He hurt Virgil.” A swallow. “I hated him. Dad-“
No, Dad would have saved him anyway. Everyone deserved to be rescued. That was the core philosophy of International Rescue. That was what Dad believed. That was what Scott believed.
Had believed.
“John, what have I done?”
“What you had to do.”
“I left a man to die.”
“Virgil rescued him, Scott. The guy shot him. You have every right to refuse him. Who’s to say he wouldn’t have injured you as well? He broke up the gas field. He created the situation that endangered both of you as well as himself. You have no obligation to save such a person, especially when another’s life is at risk as well as yours.”
The words were logical, but they just didn’t equate to the hole in his gut where his belief used to lie. He had been tested, sorely tested, and had failed to fly true to the mission.
He had failed.
His head dropped into his hands.
-o-o-o-
His usually bigger than life brother was so small against the white sheets. Face half hidden by an essential oxygen mask, Virgil was pale as a ghost and just as silent.
Scott sat beside his bed and simply stared at him. John sat next to him, worry emanating from the astronaut in waves.
Scott hadn’t spoken an unnecessary word to John in the last hour. The taste of failure was raw and bitter in his throat and it strangled any words that tried to escape.
Virgil had made it through surgery and his doctors were optimistic for a full recovery. It would be slow and his brother would be out of action for weeks, but he would recover.
He would.
Scott reached out a hand and caught his brother’s limp fingers. He brushed across familiar calluses and the cut on his palm where a screwdriver had slipped last week. Virgil had sworn a blue streak over that and scared the crap out of Gordon who had been in the hangar with him at the time.
How many people had that hand saved? How many times had it been offered in help?
Virgil wouldn’t hurt a soul. Hell, the man stepped over ant trails and released insects caught in the house. He was a gentle man who only wanted to help.
That was why it hurt so much. Why Scott had turned his back on their assailant, and on everything he believed.
Not everyone was worth saving.
He closed his eyes.
“Scott?” John was ever so hesitant.
“What would you have done?”
“Exactly what you did.”
He opened his eyes and turned to face John. “Why? Because he is our brother? Because he is Virgil?”
“Scott, I would have done it for anyone, especially a brother. That man forfeited his rights by breaching yours and Virgil’s. You did the right thing.” John grabbed his arm as if to transmit the intensity in his eyes through touch. “If you didn’t, Virgil could have died and that...is not acceptable.”
Not acceptable.
“Dad-“
“Is not here. Did not experience the situation. And...” An indrawn breath. “...He would have done exactly the same thing.”
Scott stared at his brother, part of him desperate to believe, part of him horrified that his father might breach the golden rule.
“And what would Virgil have done?” Perhaps that is what he feared the most. The derision in his brother’s eyes. The loss of faith, of trust.
“V-Virgil, would k-kick y’r ass.” It was raspy and broken, but so Virgil, Scott’s heart lurched. Damp eyelashes let out a glimpse of brown aimed directly at their eldest brother. The oxygen mask fogged as Virgil struggled to concentrate. “J-hn? Wh-t happened?”
“Hey, Virgil.” John answered when Scott’s voice stuck in his throat. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore.” A slow blink, heavy with medication and sleep. “Wass wrong w- him? Whys he upset?”
“You were injured. Of course, Scott is upset. You know what he is like.”
“I-diot. N-t your fault, Stupid. K-ick y-r ass.”
Okay. So that was familiar, if less subtle than usual.
“Saved me. Always s-saves m-me.” Those eyelids drooped, but his brother was fighting the medication.
Scott realised he still had his brother’s hand in his and squeezed gently. “Rest, Virgil. You can kick my ass later.”
“Will ki- y-r ass. Stup-d. Al-ways blmes yurs-lf.” His words reduced to unintelligible syllables, Virgil’s eyes slipped closed and he drifted off again.
“I find it very interesting that the first thing Virgil thinks of upon regaining consciousness is all about kicking your ass.”
Scott didn’t pick up the jibe. He stared at his unconscious brother. His fingers traced gentle circles on his limp hand
If there was forgiveness, it would be in his brother’s eyes.
-o-o-o-
Time passed as it always does. Virgil grew stronger and was eventually moved out onto the ward. A private room was necessary for security and Kayo hovered like an eagle seeking prey. Virgil was better but still weak. His voice was little more than a rasp and there was pain and medication and the occasional loopy. Gordon held back his sense of humour, but there was some filming that he would no doubt be killed for later when Virgil discovered it.
Scott straightened his spine and focussed on his brother and the necessities of IR management. It worked as a distraction.
Until the day the police came to question Virgil on the incident.
Scott hauled in their lawyer from New Zealand, Jack Dunning. The short, balding, dumpy little man was a long term family attorney and had seen them through many an...incident.
They sent two police, a man and a woman. The woman was very professional. The man, however, appeared somewhat starstruck and Scott had the feeling he had jumped at the chance to meet either an IR operative or a Tracy brother, probably both.
“The victim has been identified as Mr Victor Gomez.” The woman waited for a reaction.
Virgil, sitting up in bed, oxygen cannula under his nose and bags under his eyes, frowned. “Gomez? Wasn’t he one of the thieves who stole FAB1 last year? I thought he was in jail.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “He was, but he had a good lawyer.”
“What?” Scott felt the heat rise to his face. “The man blew up a diamond exchange!”
“The justice system is far from perfect, Mr Tracy. A fact I am sure you are well aware of.” her expression was firm, but kindly and said far more than the words she spoke.
Scott’s lips thinned.
“Mr Virgil Tracy.” The male police officer definitely had stars in his eyes and definitely for Virgil. Scott took a step closer to the bed.
The officer blinked and took a step back.
Virgil whacked Scott on the leg and shot him a glare before turning his attention fully on the officer. “Yes, sir?”
Great, that boosted the guys confidence. Virgil was so damned polite all the time.
His leg was whacked again. “Scott, for goodness sake, sit down.”
It was Scott’s turn to glare at his brother, but he sat down slowly on the chair beside the bed.
“Mr Virgil Tracy, could you relay the events of the incident in question as clearly as you remember, starting from your arrival at the scene.”
Scott bit his lip as Virgil’s still raspy voice spoke of the rescue that led up to the shooting.
“I hauled the victim to the surface. Scott helped him out of the hole and I followed.” Virgil swallowed. “I was just pulling myself out of the mine when the man said something to Scott which I didn’t quite hear. He then turned with a gun in his hand and shot me.”
Scott’s fingernails bit into his palms.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember much after that. Just fragments. The man had some demands, money? I’m not sure of the specifics. Scott...” Virgil frowned and wet his lips. “Scott was there. I remember being afraid for him. I was terrified he would be hurt.” He let out a breath, blinking. Virgil straightened his shoulders as if to shake it off. “Breathing was a problem and I...faded a lot. I was pretty useless. Scott manhandled me onto Thunderbird Two and at some point, I faded out completely. Next I remember is waking up in intensive care.”
“So, you don’t remember the altercation between your brother and Mr Gomez?” The woman’s voice was clear and precise.
Jack shot to his feet as Scott sat up straighter in his seat. Virgil’s eyes widened and he paled. “What altercation? There was no altercation. Scott held onto me the entire time.”
“But you don’t remember, do you Mr Tracy.”
Virgil paled even further, his mouth dropping open. His eyes darted towards Scott, seeking his big brother. “I-“
“You do not need to answer that, Virgil.” Jack held out a hand. “No one has been accused here. A video of the events from Thunderbird Two’s cameras has been submitted, Mr Scott Tracy has submitted his version of events as has Mr John Tracy. Mr Virgil Tracy is injured and even I can see you’ve managed to stress the man already. What is your point?”
“What we have, Mr Dunning, is an incident solely reported by one family. A very powerful family at that, who, I am sure, are used to getting their own way on all fronts. I am here to represent the law and give the victim a voice. A voice that is not drowned out by all the technology and skill of International Rescue.” She spat the name, glaring at Scott the entire time.
“What the-?”
“How dare you!” It burst from his brother, harsh and pain-filled. Virgil was shaking. “We save people. I saved him and he shot me. Scott...he wanted money. He could have shot Scott and I couldn’t...How dare you accuse my brother of harming that man. That is what you are saying, isn’t it?” Brown eyes shot daggers at the woman, their depths lit with outrage. “My brother...” A trembling finger shot in the direction of Scott. “My brother has saved so many people. So many, many people. We saved that man and he shot me, he threatened my brother and you think Scott would attack him?!” Virgil swelled in the bed. “Scott has been castigating himself because he was unable to save the guy. I’ve been lying here watching him beat himself up, and you have the nerve to accuse him of actually causing the man’s death. Do you have any id-ea who you are talking about? This is the c-commander of International Rescue. The man doesn’t have an immoral cell in his b-body.” A shaky breath. “G-get out!” That trembling hand waved at the police, shunting them towards the door. “Get-t out!” A cough and Virgil was hunching over in pain as his lungs attempted to turn themselves inside out.
“Shit, Virg!” Scott was reaching for his brother. Jack was yelling at the police woman. Nurses came running.
And there followed a tense few minutes where his brother tore himself apart attempting to breathe. His hand caught Scott’s and proceeded to crush every bone in it as he struggled to regain control. By the time medication relaxed him enough to calm him, he was almost transparent against the sheets.
Still he rasped out words. “Dare th-y. S-ve Scott, H-ve to save Sc-t.”
“Virgil. Virgil! It’s okay. I’m okay.” He gripped his brother’s hand in both of his own, but Virgil had fallen into a drugged haze and could no longer hear him.
“Virg, c’mon, rest.” He reached out and combed his fingers through his brother’s hair in a last-ditch effort to calm him.
Virgil sighed almost immediately. “Mom...” Scott continued the gentle administration and eventually the sick man fell into an exhausted doze.
God, Virg. Scott let out a breath and slowly dropped his forehead to the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.
Shit.
“Scott?” A blink. Please, just a moment, please. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Tracy.”
Jack.
He sighed and pushed himself up, glancing at his sleeping brother before ushering the lawyer out of the room.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” He rubbed his face.
“Understandable. I just wanted to let you know that they have nothing on you or Virgil. That woman...” He spat the word. “That woman was taking advantage of Virgil’s drugged state to see if she could get any information out of him that could implicate you. Why, I’m not sure, but I am advising you that my law firm will be pressing charges on your behalf. She will never be allowed in a position to do that to anyone else ever again.”
Scott blinked. Jack Dunning was one of the most level headed men he knew. It appeared that he might actually be angry.
“Jack-“
The lawyer raised a hand. “No, Scott. What she did to your brother was inexcusable. Virgil was right.” He reached out and gripped Scott’s arm. “You deserve so much better.” A gentle squeeze and the man let go.
Scott’s eyes were wide.
“Just do me a favour.”
“What?”
“Look after yourself.” And the man turned and left, leaving Scott standing bewildered in the corridor.
-o-o-o-
The next twelve hours were spent in the chair beside Virgil’s bed. About eighty percent of that was an uncomfortable doze that left him with aching muscles and a throbbing headache.
Gordon cornered him at one point and attempted to drag him back to the hotel, but Scott refused. he had to be here when Virgil woke up. They needed to talk.
Of course, Virgil woke while he was asleep. A touch to Scott’s hair and his head shot up to find a pair of brown eyes staring at him.
“Scott?” It was whispered.
“Virgil.” He sat up, ignoring the crick in his neck.
“What are you doing here?” Scott had to lean in to hear what his brother was saying.
A blink. “Where else would I be?”
“In a bed, asleep.” Virgil’s eyes closed slowly, but opened again, the man obviously determined to stay awake. “You look like shit.”
“Pot, kettle, Virg.”
That brown gaze narrowed, focussing. “You did the right thing.”
Scott rubbed his neck. “Oh, I don’t know, my neck may never forgive me.”
Those eyes closed and opened again. “No…leaving him behind. You did the right thing.”
A swallow. “You need to rest.”
“I’m fine.”
That prompted a snort. “Really? You’re going to try that while looking like that?”
Virgil almost rolled his eyes. Almost. Instead he turned his head looking around the room. “Where’s John?”
Scott glanced at his watch and frowned. “Probably in bed. Unless Gordon is giving him grief. Why?”
“I need someone to kick your ass.”
“Again? Really? Do I look that bad?”
A frown and it became very obvious that Virgil didn’t remember the last time he had threatened to kick his butt. “You look like shit.”
“This conversation is going in a circle.”
“Scott-“
“Virgil, you need rest-“
“I need you to understand!” His brother’s voice grated out of stressed lungs.
“Virg, for god’s sake, calm down.”
His brother grabbed his hand. “You did what you had to do. Stop beating yourself up for it. Dad would have done the same.” A cough. “I would have done the same!”
Scott stared at him. “The man died because I left him to die.”
“The man died because he was an a-asshole.” His brother swallowed and winced. “We can’t save everyone.” Virgil’s eyes squeezed shut and his hand tightened around Scott’s. The bruises on his hand from the last time his brother had grabbed him made themselves known and he flinched just a little.
Virgil’s eyes shot open and he frowned, staring down at his hand. He let go. “Did I do that?”
Scott grabbed his brother’s hand back. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters.” He tried again to let his brother’s hand go, but Scott wouldn’t let him, wrapping both hands around his brother’s.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is you getting better so you can climb out of that bed and kick my ass yourself.”
“It’s all about your ass.” His brother let out a sigh and his eyes closed again. This time he spoke without opening them, each word painfully enunciated. “If you had been shot, I would have done the same. I may have even done more. He wanted money and was willing to trade lives to get it.” His eyes opened and caught Scott’s. “I would have saved him if I could, but if it comes to a simple equation of my brother or the man who shot him...the answer will always be my brother.” A slow blink. “I can’t lose you, Scott. It will always be you.”
It took Scott a moment to remember his brother was still heavily medicated, still only half-awake. “Virgil-“
“Scott, stop beating yourself up. You did nothing wrong. Go to bed so I can get some sleep.” Another slow blink. “Y-you snore.”
It was the last two words that did it more than anything his brother had said before. Two simple words so his brother it hurt.
A gentle squeeze of his hand. “Okay, Virg. You get some sleep.”
“Planning on it.” His eyes closed, eyelashes brushing ever so pale cheeks. “Go to bed.”
He didn’t move immediately, content to watch his brother slip into slumber again. Virgil’s breathing evened out and his hand fell limp in Scott’s fingers.
God, it had been close.
His brother or the man who shot him.
A simple equation.
Scott bit his lip.
Virgil was right.
The answer would always be his brother.
-o-o-o-
FIN.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#Virgil Tracy#Scott Tracy#nuttys fandomversary
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Story Time
I usually like to include in the title of the post what AU the write is from, but this particular AU has such a long name that I don’t really want to. This takes place in the Reverse Portal Stanley McGucket AU, and is a rare write that takes place from Lute’s perspective. It’s not quite as Lute-centric as the thing I’ll be posting tomorrow, since it focuses a bit more on Stangie memories. But still, we get some good Lute thoughts into what is going on in this tragic AU.
“Uncle Lute, look!” Lute looked up from the dishes he was currently in the process of washing. His niece Daisy ran over, proudly holding a piece of paper. Lute smiled and dried his hands.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“My teacher left a note on my project, sayin’ I’ve got potential in science she’s never seen before!” Daisy enthused. Lute chuckled. He took the piece of paper. It was the results of her fourth-grade science fair project. Angie had helped, but Daisy had insisted on doing the majority of the work on her own.
“I ain’t all that surprised,” he said, ruffling her hair. “Yer quite the smartie. Just like yer ma.” Daisy beamed. “Ya told her when she picked ya up, I assume?” Daisy nodded. “Good. I can put it on the fridge right away, then.” Lute walked over to the fridge and stuck the paper on the door with a magnet shaped like a salamander. He heard the front door open again.
“Ma, are ya goin’ to tell us?” Emory’s voice asked eagerly.
“Yes, sweetie, just let me take a seat in the livin’ room, okay?” Angie’s voice said. Lute pursed his lips. Angie was frequently tired, particularly since she started to help Ford with his research on the Gravity Falls anomalies, in addition to her own. But the exhaustion in her voice wasn’t physical. It was emotional. And that pointed to his missing brother-in-law.
I knew they’d start askin’ about him eventually. The breadcrumbs Danny ‘n Daisy have, or what all Stanford ‘n myself tell ‘em isn’t enough. They want to hear about Stan from their mother.
“Don’t start without me!” Daisy said suddenly. She darted out of the kitchen. Lute took a deep breath and followed her into the living room. Angie entered and took a seat on the couch. Emily and Emmett, six years old and just done with their first week of school, climbed up next to her. Daisy sat on the floor in front of the couch. Danny joined her.
“Angie,” Lute said softly. Angie looked up. In the seven years that had passed since Stan’s disappearance, the bright caramel color of her hair had started to fade, and she’d been forced to wear reading glasses regularly. Lute couldn’t help but wonder if the stress of everything that had happened was what caused her to age so quickly.
“I’m fine, Lute,” Angie said with a forced smile. Lute leaned against the wall.
“You don’t have to talk about him. I can tell ‘em another story.”
“No, we wanna hear about Dad from Ma!” Emmett protested from Angie’s lap. Lute blinked, surprised. Emmett was the black sheep of his siblings, quiet and unsure. He very rarely raised his voice, and even more rarely wasn’t willing to compromise.
Maybe he’s finally gettin’ some stubbornness in him. Lute smiled. Good. Stan wouldn’t want a kid who’s willing to back down.
“It’s fine, really,” Angie said to Lute. She took a deep breath. “It’s been seven years. I can talk.”
“Okay,” Lute replied. He stayed where he was, determined to step in if Angie became too emotional to carry on.
“What do ya want to hear about, babies?” Angie asked, stroking Emmett’s hair.
“What was Dad like?” Emmett asked. Angie smiled faintly.
“It’d take a long time to explain everything about him,” she said. “Like all people, he’s complex.”
“Ma,” Danny piped up. “Don’t dance around the question.”
“All right, all right. He’s stubborn. Stubborn as a mule. Loyal, willin’ to do anything to protect those he cares about. He has issues showin’ emotion in front of people at times. He’d try to downplay anything he did to be kind as him doin’ just ‘cause it didn’t inconvenience him. His voice would get all gruff when he talked about yer sisters, ‘cause it was the only way to hide how proud he is of ‘em, and how much he loves ‘em.”
She’ll never stop usin’ present-tense, will she.
“How did you two meet?” Danny asked. Angie raised an eyebrow.
“I know you’ve heard that story.”
“Yeah, but not from you.” Danny leaned forward. “Did ya know he was the love of yer life the second ya laid eyes on him?” Angie laughed.
“Not by any means. I was sixteen and hadn’t even left the state before. I couldn’t feel any emotion other than curiosity until I got to know him.” Angie looked over at a photo on the wall, of her and Stan’s high school graduation. “Most of the first interactions we had, I was confused how someone could be so obtuse. He was a real fish outta water on the farm.”
“But he got better,” Daisy said. Angie nodded.
“Yes. He got better.”
“How did ya know he was the one?” Danny asked. Lute let out a small huff of amusement.
There she goes, the hopeless romantic. Lord, am I goin’ to have fun terrorizin’ her dates when she gets older.
“I’m not quite sure,” Angie replied after a moment. She untangled a knot in Emmett’s hair. “It wasn’t one moment. It was a series of moments that all built up.”
“What were-” Danny started.
“Where is he?” Emmett interrupted. Angie’s face broke. Lute stood straighter.
“…I don’t know,” Angie whispered.
“We’ve answered that question, Emmett,” Lute said. Emmett looked over at him.
“Yeah, but yer lyin’,” Emmett said firmly.
“No, we were tellin’ the truth.”
“No. It doesn’t make sense,” Emmett insisted.
And already his new stubbornness is comin’ to bite us in the butt. He really is Stan’s son.
“Honey, yer Uncle Ford was there,” Angie said gently. “He saw what happened.”
“Yeah. Right after he and Dad had a big fight. Uncle Ford could be lying to cover his tracks. He probably is. ‘Cause it doesn’t make any sense fer Dad to be- be wherever Uncle Ford’s machine took him!”
“Junior,” Lute snapped, using the nickname he had come up with when Emmett was five and wanted to go by his middle name, Stanley. “Yer on thin ice.” Emmett glared at him.
“I just want to know what really happened!” Emmett said, crossing his arms. “Dad shoulda been here! He wasn’t! If it’s Uncle Ford’s fault-” A single tear traced its way down Angie’s cheek and landed on Emmett. He looked at Angie, startled. “O-oh. Sorry, Ma.”
“I’m fine,” Angie said. She rubbed her eyes. “I just don’t like thinkin’ ‘bout- ‘bout where yer dad is right now.” Emory embraced Angie.
“Ma, don’t cry,” Emory said softly. Angie smiled through her tears.
“Fer you, I’ll hold ‘em back.”
“I’ll be quiet now,” Emmett mumbled.
“You don’t need to be fer my sake, honey-bun,” Angie said. Her voice was still thick with tears. Emmett shook his head.
“No, I- we should talk ‘bout the good things,” he said. Angie stroked Emmett’s cheek. “I don’t wanna think about him bein’ somewhere bad, either.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” Angie took a shuddering breath. “Danny, the first time I knew yer father and I had somethin’ was when we moved in together. He jumped at the chance to move out of yer grandparents’ house, across the country, with no plan fer a job or anything. Just so he could live with me. Everything that happened after just made me more sure of it. Our bickerin’ over the thermostat, me draggin’ him to museums and forests, him draggin’ me to sporting events. The way- the way he’d just laugh if I jumped onto his back, takin’ on the challenge to carry me to whatever my destination was.” Angie’s eyes grew misty with memory. “The way he smelled and felt. And…the day he proposed, blurting it out without thinkin’, without even havin’ the ring on him.” Danny’s eyes widened.
“Wait, how did Dad propose if he didn’t have a ring?” she asked. Lute cocked his head, curious as well.
I don’t think she ever told anyone how Stan proposed. Angie smiled fondly.
“We were down in the mines, and yer father kept tryin’ to get me to go to this fancy restaurant I liked. But I ignored it, said I was fine traipsin’ ‘round underground. I didn’t pay attention to what was goin’ on, and yer father had to rescue me from bein’ eaten by somethin’. He tackled me, we rolled down a hill, and there, at the base of the hill, with me starin’ up at him, he asked me to marry him.” Angie let out a small wistful sigh. “Never did find out what exactly prompted him to pop the question then and there. Knowin’ him, it probably just felt right. And it did. It was special. Way more special than if it had happened at a restaurant.”
“Aw,” Danny gushed.
“I can see why ya kept that story a secret,” Lute said softly. “It’s a sweet one.”
“Yep. And Stan’s got that hard shell. He wouldn’t want folks to know he’s secretly sappy.”
“He’s gonna come back, right?” Emory asked. Angie nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “He will.” Lute’s heart sunk.
She’s never goin’ to move on.
“I think that’s enough story fer today,” Angie said briskly. “Y’all have some homework, and I have some data to write up.” The children grumbled, but gradually dispersed. Once all four children were gone, Lute joined Angie on the couch. She was staring at the photo on the mantel of Stan, Angie, Danny, and Daisy during their first Halloween as a family. Stan and Angie were dressed as robbers, and the infant Danny and Daisy as sacks of money.
“Banjey, it’s not right to get their hopes up like that,” Lute said in an undertone.
“I know you don’t think he’ll come back,” Angie said softly. “But I know my husband. He’d do anything to come back to his fam’ly. It’s not gettin’ their hopes up to let ‘em know that one day, their dad will be back. It’s preparin’ ‘em fer the future.” She stood. “I really do have research to work on.” She walked away. Lute sighed.
“Learn to keep yer darn mouth shut, McGucket,” he said to himself. He stood up and walked over to the mantel to pick up the Halloween picture. In the background, he could just make out Ford with his back turned, helping Tate go trick-or-treating.
If there was anyone who could bring Stan back, it’d be Stanford. And if there was anyone who could survive alternate realities to come back home to his family, it’d be Stan. He set the picture back on the mantel. Maybe I should try bein’ optimistic like Angie fer once. It’d sure be better than assuming my brother’s dead. He let out a sigh.
“Somethin’ to ruminate on,” he said quietly. He turned away from the mantel.
Now, back to the dishes.
#Reverse Portal Stanley McGucket AU#Stangie Family#Lute McGucket#Angie McGucket#Daisy McGucket#Emily Pines#Emmett McGucket#Danica Pines#my writing#ficlet#speecher speaks
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I need the story of the Underground Shakespearian Ring
Okay, so the school I went to for 9th grade had this really bizarre grading setup that I still don’t understand- for some reason, instead of the teachers writing up and grading tests and exams and the like, all the work was sent to an unknown third party for them to grade??? It made no sense.
Now, for the most part, the school had decent teachers, and they would just teach the curriculum correctly and then you wouldn’t run into problems with the grading. My English teacher was not one of those teachers.
So like, she hated me pretty early on- she was my homeroom teacher and thought it was disrespectful that I slept in homeroom in the mornings (I was on sleeping pills and they never wore off completely until around 10am), I never had the vocab homework in on time (someone kept breaking into my locker and stealing my vocab books I had to buy a new one like five times), she thought it was “inherently pessimistic and stuck up” when she caught me reading a book called ‘Ninth Grade Slays’ (it was about vampires, not her?), and during our Greek Mythology unit I kept correcting her about the name pronunciations of the gods (she pronounced Hephaestus as Hepatitis one time holy shit).
Anyway, her feelings on me aside, her teaching skills were shoddy at best. But I had had way worse teachers, so had the rest of the class, and Greek myths are pretty straight-up in what’s going on, so no one really had trouble with the third-party tests.
Then we get to the Romeo and Juliet unit.
Now, fun fact: Shakespeare has always come pretty easily to me. Like, to the point where I sometimes forget/fail to understand that other people have an incredibly hard time translating his works. (I told this whole story to my friends in the school I went to for 10th/11th/12th grade and when the drama department put on ‘Midsummers Night Dream’ one year, more than half the cast tried to get me to translate their scripts and monologues for them lmao).
So, anyway, I’m just a girl, reading Romeo and Juliet and digging how it’s going…and then the teacher starts ‘translating’ it.
Um.
I cannot sift through all the bullshit this woman was spewing, but let’s just say that my favorite part is during Romeo’s spew about Rosaline, there’s one part where he says something like ‘with cupid’s arrow/she hath diane’s will’, and the teacher was taking this to mean Rosaline was a Super Lesbian who was breaking the law or something and running away with her lover Diane, which would be a rad storyline, sure, but like…I’m just raising my hand like “Um Ma’am, Diana is the Roman goddess of chastity. What Romeo meant is that she told him she’s sworn off love and is probably becoming a nun?” and this woman just got. So angry. Like, excuse me, you are a student, you’re here to learn, so you clearly don’t know anything about this (I read Romeo and Juliet for the first time in like preschool whoops). Anyway, she continues on making up her own plot to the play, and I…well I was basically Hermione Fucking Granger at this point I couldn’t just sit there and listen to someone be this wrong about something omfg??? She just got angrier and angrier and stopped calling on me after a while.
So for a couple lessons I’m just left to seethe quietly, but one day after class this girl I knew since grade school came up to me and was like “Could you…? Tell me what the hell we’re supposed to be learning?” and I didn’t even like her but I liked the validation of being someone’s Chosen Teacher so I wrote out a summary for her of everything we had covered so far so she could actually write a comprehendible essay for our homework that night.
But THEN the during the class when we got our essays back, she made a HUGE DEAL, like ‘oh Molly, it wasn’t bad enough that you’ve been failing this course material, now you have to drag your friends into it by trying to re-write the play?’ (l m a o). Like this bitch had literally tried to fight me on ‘Paris is the guy Juliet’s father wants her to marry’ and she didn’t even put a grade on my essay where I said the play only ended in tragedy because of how young and naïve the kids were, that if they had taken a breather and thought things through it probably would’ve been fine (it was a damn good essay and I stand by it). But anyway, she’s trying to make me out to my classmate’s as someone who’s trying to sabotage their education for laughs.
This backfired on her.
See, it dawned on people one by one, that she was only teaching the wrong material -> so they wouldn’t know the right material -> so when they eventually would take the exams they would only have her crazy answers -> which the third party graders wouldn’t know about -> everyone fails this course that’s like half the overall grade of the year.
Most students consider that a problem.
So suddenly the class has decided I’m the fucking Shakespeare Whisperer or something, and one by one start begging me for help. At first I was confused, because as I said, it’s so easy for me that I didn’t realize literally the entire class was lost out of their asses here. omfg. So I was really getting hassled here but I didn’t want my entire class to fail you know???? So I started meeting with people during study halls or texting them after school so they knew what was going on. And then they started telling people in this teacher’s other classes, including upperclassmen who were lost as fuck, so this was quickly spiraling out of control on my end, but overall people were really starting to understand the plays better!! So I was feeling really great.
But then, the teacher noticed that none of the homework getting handed in to her matched up with her crazy translations, and knew I was the sole person to blame (naturally). She literally tried to get me suspended over this, she went to the school’s disciplinarian!
Note: This guy, Mr. C, knew I was a God damn angel- my science class was off the charts, inappropriately awful, so every time one of our science teacher’s wanted to give the entire class detention, instead of calling Mr. C up to the class room as was the rule, they’d send me down to get him so he’d know to write up every student except for me. So when my English teacher dragged me in there he was looking her like “What on Earth could this girl have possibly done to piss you off?” 😂😂
And when she explained he looked at her for a very long moment, glanced at me with a signature ‘Office’ Reaction Face™ , turned back to her and was like “You want her suspended…for starting a study group?” and I was CHOKING.
So that really pissed her off and they started fighting and this was a very overworked and Done man so at some point he gave up and was like “I’m not suspending her but fine we can put a ban on the study group if you leave my office” omfg. So all the other students get notified and now they’re back to freaking out about the upcoming exams.
So like two days later, I’m at lunch, complaining about this to one of my friends who had a different English teacher and thus no problem, and I’m on this whole angry rant (Because I’m pissed, a bunch of kid’s grades are gonna get fucked up because of this! They just wanted to do well! I just wanted to help them!) and my friends staring at me quietly the whole time and when I finish I’m like “What?” and she’s just like “…Molly did you literally start up Dumbledore’s Army in our fucking school?” and I died on scene.
But then I started thinking about the comparison and I was like? You know fucking what? If Harry Potter can get those kids to pass their fucking DADA test I can help kids pass their fucking English Exam. Bring it the fuck on, Umbridge.
So I started Spreading The Word that anyone who needs help with their Shakespeare course can still get help, we just all need to meet up once to hash out the details. After some back and forth notes and deliberations, we ended up meeting in the school library, which was hilarious for a few reasons:
1) It was directly across the hall from this teacher’s classroom.
2) It was actually a converted janitors closet, way smaller than all the other classrooms, and there were like 50 people shoved in there; Not exactly an ideal Room of Requirement
3) The library carried no Shakespeare texts, but had the entire Harry Potter series on display to see when you first walked in
But anyway, despite the fact that we were literally three feet away from her door while we were doing this, our teacher was none the wiser of the meeting. We worked out a game plan- everyone writes out bullshit essays that align with what the teacher’s expecting. After she grades those and gives them back, they get them to me- slipping them in my locker, handing it to me discreetly in the halls or in another class, what have you. I then try to power through the dizzying amount of confusion radiating out of the teacher’s mouth and onto these papers, and more or less write out better translation of what was going on in whatever scene they covered, what the highlights they needed to know were, stuff like that, and then slip it back to them in similar discreet fashion (so the teacher/disciplinarian wouldn’t see me and get suspicious ; also because I was like 15 and wanted to feel like a super cool secret agent). They would then keep my copies and use them as study guides for the upcoming exams, where they would then answer all the questions correctly, the way the third party graders would mark correctly, and pass the exams + the bullshit essays would get them high marks in the teacher’s homework grades. The teacher never caught on to what was happening, just thought her students finally started paying attention to her.
All in all, it was a complicated mess, but it fucking worked. I don’t think anyone failed their exams that year. Will I ever be cooler? No. I think I fucking peaked when I was 15.
#True Story#shakespeare#lmao#I hope this is like...literate I'm pretty tired right now lol#asks#molly mumbles
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Bae Mu-yeol // Marlin Bae BHP AU Bio
Name: Bae Mu-yeol // Marlin Bae, most commonly known as Professor Bae
Blood Status: Pureblood
School: Ilvernorny
House: Horned Serpent
Year: Graduated
Title(s): Professor (Potions), Horned Serpent Head of House
Wand: 11 inches, silver lime, wampus cat hair
Patronus: Threstal l o l:
Pet: “family” bird that Nemo owns and dotes on, an American Kestrel named Param, and a “family” cat that Marlin got to cope with Nemo being a big kid now and no longer wanting to snuggle with his appa, a big grey maine coon named Goyangi
Three Best: Potions, Charms, Herbology
Three Worst: Xylomancy, History of Magic, Creature Care
TW: death, cancer
Hogwarts, a Personal History: Marlin was born in Daegu, South Korea, to a pureblood family. However, he was just shy of eleven years old when his father, a professional quidditch player, signed a contract to play for a Canadian team. Marlin and his younger brother and sister were whisked away to live in Montreal, Quebec. He lived consistently in the family home in Montreal for less than a full year before he started school at Ilvermorny.
He was sorted into Horned Serpent and excelled in his classes, but particularly potions. He even ran an underground homework ring and made his summer spending money by writing potions essays for other students.
The summer before his final year, Marlin’s father, who had retired from playing pro-quidditch two years prior, took a job coaching the Tucson Torpedoes and the Bae family moved from Montreal to Tucson, Arizona, where Marlin still lives today with his son.
While eating with his brother at a Korean restaurant in Tucson, Marlin met Song So-yeon, a beautiful, no-maj nineteen year old student at the University of Arizona. So-yeon was from Daegu like Marlin’s family, and was actually only in America to go to university. Marlin was goddamned in love.
What began as a summer flirtation morphed into Marlin sneaking to the nearest muggle town to send So-yeon letters. He couldn’t exactly send his muggle girlfriend letters by OWL. Over winter holidays that year, however, Marlin confessed to her that he was a wizard and showed her magic. Their relationship continued until just a year out of Ilvermorny, Marlin married the pretty muggle woman he’d met when she was his waitress. Their son Nemo was born a few years later.
And then, Marlin’s world fell apart. So-yeon was diagnosed with fallopian tube cancer that had already spread to the uterus, ovaries, and peritoneum by the time they caught it. So-yeon fought for her life for a solid year and then some, but ultimately, her body couldn’t take it anymore.
Months after her death, Marlin’s former potions instructor owled him asking him to come to Ilvermorny to train under her for the school year, as she has recommended he be her successor.
A year later, he became the Ilvermorny potions professor and he has been ever since. Six years ago, the Horned Serpent HOH retired and Marlin then became Head of House.
Five years ago, on a trip to England for a potions conference, Marlin met Kanga DeRosa, a brilliant witch and fellow single parent. She was a healer, attending the seminars on recent advancements in healing potions. Kanga made a lame joke to Marlin during the session, and Marlin thought ‘damn, she’s funny.’ Over the course of the two days she attended the conference, Marlin and Kanga struck up a friendship. They said they’d keep in touch, both expecting their contact to taper off after a while as usually happened with these things.
It didn’t. Six months into their long-distance friendship, they had the realization “oh NO, I’m INTO them” at the same time and they began a long-distance relationship. Marlin and Kanga see each other in person a few times a year - usually Marlin will visit England, but Kanga has been to Marlin and Nemo’s home in Arizona, where they live when school isn’t in session.
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Totem
July 2nd
Prompt: Totem
Summary: Nokia needs help with her homework.
~~Story Begins~~
Arata walked into K-Cafe, a scowl on his face, that slowly disappeared upon seeing his cyber sleuth friend sitting at one of the tables working on her homework.
“The others haven’t arrived yet?” Arata asked sitting down at the table with Ami.
Ami shook her head, “No and for once, I’m not late but super early. I thought for sure Nokia would have been here by now. She actually took it up as a case along with sending me a SOS message. I never did take the case, just doing it because she is a friend.”
“Yeah, I received that SOS message,” Arata said. “Right when I was about to accept another comic contest. So, any idea over what Nokia’s emergency is?”
“No, there was nothing on the case file report when I looked at it out of curiosity and I have tried calling her, but I never received an answer.”
“I swear, if it is over what accessory -”
Ami shook her head, “No, if it was something like that than she wouldn’t have the money to file a case and it wouldn’t be having us meet at a cafe,” Ami twirled the pencil in her hand. “You wouldn’t know what system is used underground to help conserve and reuse energy?”
“What?”
“Produced by the internal heat of the earth is known as blank,” Ami read from her worksheet.
“Geothermal.”
“Thanks,” Ami said writing it down.
“You rarely ask for homework help,” Arata said.
“I stayed up almost all night for a case,” Ami explained. “My mind is tired.”
“So to stay awake, you are doing homework.”
The bell to the cafe dinged.
“I’m ahead of my homework. With my school allowing most of their students to work, they give us month’s work of homework at a time for each class.”
“Nokia isn’t here?” Yuugo asked as his sister helped him sit down. He was getting better with his physical body, but he still had a long way to go.
“No,” Arata said as Ami packed up her homework.
“She needs to arrive soon,” Ami added in. “Kyoko is going to call and would want an update.”
“She put in a case for this?” Yuuko said as she sat down. “It must be important.”
Arata took out his digivice and tried calling Nokia only to receive no answer. “Same as Ami, no answer.”
“Hmm, strange. She always has her Digivice,” Yuuko commented.
The bell dinged and some regulars came in and ordered their drinks.
“I can’t wait anymore,” Ami said surprising everyone. “I’m heading back to the office, try and get more cases done. If you wish to stay and she arrives, call me, please.”
Ami grabbed her bag and talked to the owner of K-Cafe before she left.
“She usually waits the longest,” Yuugo stated.
“She was here before me,” Arata stated. “I don’t know for how long.”
“Oh?” Sacchan said. “Are you talking about Ami? She’s been sitting in here since 2.”
“It’s almost 5,” Yuuko said. “She’s been waiting three hours.”
“2 is when Nokia sent out her message,” Arata said checking his messages. “Three hours of not working on a case. No wonder she left all mad.”
Two hours later, Arata walked into Kuremi Detective Agency after receiving a call from Kyoko to come over. “The others are on their way,” Kyoko said after Arata shut the door. “I’m surprised you got here so fast.”
“I was in the area,” Arata said. He sat down next to the unusual quiet Ami who had her shoes off with her legs curled up under her. “Is she okay?”
“Ami’s finally getting some sleep,” Kyoko spoke. “Her alarm will wake her in thirty minutes before she goes to Ueno Park and stay awake all night again.”
Arata sighed, “They are such flakes.”
“Not very nice,” Ami said with a voice laced heavily with sleep and knowing that he was referring to her and Nokia. She lifted her head up from her arms and stared sleepily at the two.
“Go back to bed,” Kyoko ordered. Ami shook her head as she uncurled her legs. “Oh? How do you plan on staying awake the whole entire night and day with thirty-five minutes of sleep?”
“It’s almost like jet lag,” Ami shrugged putting her shoes on.
The door bursted open and Nokia came in, “I’m totes sorry! The teachers took my digivice and wouldn’t return it or listen to me. Than they gave me detention, plus after school clean duty by myself, and my tutor lessons!”
“Than you shouldn’t have sent out a SOS message,” Arata commented dryly.
“Teachers wouldn’t let me finish it,” Nokia argued.
Ami just shook her head as Yuugo and Yuuko appeared, “I seriously don’t have the patience for this.”
“Did you wake up on the wrong side of bed?” Nokia asked.
Arata covered Ami’s mouth as Kyoko laughed, “Nokia, she hasn’t laid down in a bed for forty-eight hours.”
Arata glared at Ami as Yuuko sat down with Nokia and Yuugo on the other couch. “Did you just lick my hand?” Arata questioned Ami who was glaring back at him. “Stop licking me!” He removed his hand and wiped it off.
“So, Nokia, what is the Emergency?” Ami asked.
“I need to make a totem pole of four of my friends that changed my life and well, it was you four. I have to include myself in this totem pole as well.”
“This was the emergency?” Yuuko spoke. “You could’ve just asked us to meet up in a group chat in EDEN!”
“Instead of getting caught using Digi-line in class again,” Ami said.
“Yeah, well, let’s just start doing the assignment,” Nokia said taking a piece of paper. “So...uh… who should be the bottom of this totem pole?”
“Well, what does your totem pole look like without their opinions?” Kyoko asked.
“The bottom would be Arata, than Yuugo, than Yuuko, and finally me!” Nokia said.
“Oh? Why?” Nokia asked.
“I’m out,” Ami said getting up and proceeded to leave.
“What? Wait, why?” Nokia asked. “I’m a client! A client!”
“No, you are not. You are a friend. I never took your case file. I waited for you for three hours and I have a case to go too. I’m forgotten within your totem pole.”
“What? No, I didn’t!” Nokia said offended.
“I was going to ask about why Ami wasn’t included,” Kyoko said as Ami left. “But please excuse her behavior. She’s running on little to no sleep the last two soon to be three days and she’s under a lot of stress. Mostly self-induced stress.”
“What type of stress?” Yuugo questioned.
“I believe that’s Ami’s choice to tell,” Kyoko said. “Now about your homework.”
The next morning, Ami was typing up an apology to Nokia. It was a honest Nokia mistake, no need to snap at her about it. Just because she has a lot on her mind now, doesn’t mean her friends deserve that type of behavior.
She walked into Broadway and shook her head, try to get the sleepiness out of her mind and to stay awake, at least until she turned this case in. The client had good intentions for looking after his little sister, but the ‘bad friends’ was two stray dogs who his little sister named New-New and Lekkle.
Ami chuckled to herself, almost everyone forgot about Digimon being tools for hackers but the traces were still there.
“You are giggling at nothing,” Arata said in front of her, crossing his arms. “You are going delusional.”
“I’m fine,” Ami said shaking her head. “Just thinking about Digimon and how traces of them are still noticeable. What are you doing here?”
“Am I not allowed to visit you?”
“You are, but you usually ask in advance,” Ami said. “Are you going to let me in the office?”
“Naw,” Arata said with his arms crossed. “Not allowing you to work until you get some sleep.”
Ami’s eyes flashed with anger before she took a deep breath, “I’ll get sleep later.”
Arata rolled his eyes, “Ami.”
“What?”
“It was a group decision to force you to go to sleep,” Arata said placing his hands in his pockets. “I happen to be the one who drew the figurative short stick. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“Kyoko knows?”
“Yep, she knows you completed your case as well. You don’t ever leave things half-finished.”
“You do realize I can escape from you, right?” Ami asked causing Arata to arch his eyebrow. “But, I won’t. My apartment than?”
“Mhmm, all day,” Arata agreed as they went to the elevator. “Kyoko already let me in to drop off the things I brought over.” The elevator started going up with them in it. “You know, any of us would be willingly to listen if you needed someone to talk too.”
“Huh?”
“Kyoko said you was under a lot of self-induced stress.”
The elevator stopped and they got off.
“I’m not working so much to get my mind off of problems if that’s what you are thinking I am doing,” Ami said as they walked towards her apartment door.
“I never said it was,” Arata said as they entered her apartment. “Your digivice, please. So you won’t wake up when it goes off.”
Ami unwrapped her Digivice and gave it to him, “Do you want my code for it?”
“Yeah, why not.”
“1048,” Ami said. “I’ll change it later after you get done babysitting me. You’ve been here before, right?”
Arata rolled his eyes, “Yeah, go to bed now. I’ll be fine.”
“It feels weird though,” Ami whined as the taller teen started to push her towards her bedroom. “Fine, fine!”
Thirty minutes later, Arata was doing his own version of Nokia’s totem pole assignment when Ami’s digivice started to ring. He answered it not paying attention to who was calling when -
“October, how many times do I have to tell you, if it is stage no matter how real it looks, it does not feel genuine! Miwako, the sound was great!” Arata looked up at the screen and saw a woman with black hair done in a bun with glasses on top of it. “Kyoko called me Ami, what do you think you are doing getting so little sleep?” She never looked at the screen. “Mathies, what is it, what do you mean again?”
“Uhh…” Arata said stunned trying to figure out what was going on.
The lady looked at the screen. “You aren’t my daughter.”
“No, I’m not. A friend of Ami’s and she is *should* be sleeping right now,” Arata spoke. “Can I give her a message for you?”
“Yes, tell her - Lucas, can’t you put them on hold? I’m busy!” Ami’s mom said to someone off screen. “No! You do not ever, EVER put them through to my personal digivice unless it’s Kuremi Kyoko and my daughter! Yes I have a daughter!” The call got disconnected.
“Don’t bother calling back,” Ami spoke from her doorway, stifling her yawn. She walked to the couch and sat on it wearing blue shorts a blue tank, an uncommon color on her. “She won’t answer.”
“What are you doing up?” Arata asked as she looked at what he was working on.
“It’s rare for Mom to find the time to call,” Ami explained. “I’ve trained myself to wake up, no matter what, when I hear that ringtone.”
“I wouldn’t consider that a call.”
“Oh no, that’s a call. You experience the type of conversation I have 90% of the time with my mother.” Ami said. “So, Nokia is on top of your totem pole?”
“The top ones aren’t as masterfully created like the bottom ones are, a hidden fact about totem poles.”
“So from bottom to top you have; Yuugo, me, Yuuko, yourself, than Nokia?”
“Yes, essentially, you and Yuugo changed our lives,” Arata commented. “Now, you should go back to bed. Especially since you should be asleep right now.”
“Yes, boss,” Ami said jokingly as she got back up and headed towards her bedroom.
“Why are you working so hard, if you don’t mind me asking?” Arata questioned before Ami entered her bedroom.
“So I can surprise visit Mom for her birthday, since she won’t be home again for her birthday like originally planned” Ami responded looking at Arata. “She may not act like it, but she hates being so far away from me for so long. So a visit from me for her birthday will boost her morale and spirits.”
~~The End~~
#Digimon#digimon story#digimon story cyber sleuth#Ami Aiba#Arata Sanada#arata x ami#Yuuko Kamishiro#yuugo kamishiro#Kyoko Kuremi#bladeblazeknight
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31 ghosts of October, #9
‘Miss, can you turn off the AC?’, my students ask as goosebumps form on their hands. There’s a slight drip-dripping of water outside the window and it echoes throughout my classroom. ‘It is off’, I tell them, ignoring the cold. ‘It’s just a cold day’.
I sit at my desk while my students work on an essay. I am exhausted. It’s that oppressive feeling again. Like there’s someone standing behind me, peering over my shoulder, as if to see what I'm doing on my laptop. I don't like sitting with my back to a wall, I think. Too little space to maneuver, too many grey-white shadows cast on the walls, too many flickers of movement at the periphery of my vision.
The days drags and finally it’s 12 noon. Lunchtime.
Lunchtimes are my own. Free of students, free of colleagues. I sit in my classroom, sinking into my chair, idly clicking my way through YouTube. I stop at a short video on EVPs. A group of youngsters have ‘recorded’ a ghost speaking. Through the crackle and ambient sounds, I think I hear ‘help me’. It’s barely a whisper. ‘Oh my god!’ say the youngsters. ‘Did you hear that?’. The video ends abruptly.
‘Alright!’, I think to myself. ‘Let’s do this’. I turn on the recorder on my phone and let it run five minutes. I play it back. Crackle, crackle. Voices of children yelling in the playground nearby. A teacher yelling at a middle schooler. Then ‘Nice coffee’, followed by ‘Too much homework’. It’s a raspy whisper. It’s sighs and moans. It’s coming from miles and miles underground. I play it again. ‘Nice coffee’. ‘Too much homework’. Crackle, moan, crackle.
The bell rings for lesson 5. No time to dwell. The class starts coming in. Once again, as it has been throughout the year, no one sits at the desk near the window. I find it strange. It seems to me that it should be a coveted spot. It’s at the back of the class, there’s a window, it’s in a corner. I asked my students once, and they said that they thought someone had already taken it. ‘Also, it’s kind of creepy’, said Nikhil. ‘It’s kind of weird’ said Ruby.
It’s 3pm. The bell rings to end the day. The usual rush of students, screaming goodbyes, the hurried eating of snacks, the herding of stragglers into the bus and suddenly they are gone. The school is silent. The afternoon is turning grey-black. There’ll be a downpour soon. I have to complete lesson plans but I want to play the recording. I hear running outside on the corridor. Someone is running full speed. Late for the bus? No the buses left an hour ago. I look out. No one. The endless corridor stretches, dark and gloomy to my left and to my right. I shake my head and go back in.
by yasmine
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