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pi-cat000 · 3 years

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BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (2)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters: Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

... PREV / NEXT

...

Life in his hospital bed passes slowly while he waits for his chakra to replenish. Always a sluggish process for Kakashi. With nothing to do, nowhere to go and a significant lack of motivation to find either, there is a lot of time to think. Too much time. With what was shaping up to be the fourth great shinobi war, there was no time for reflection or resting. To suddenly have this much downtime thrust upon him is throwing him through a loop. And he doesn’t even have his periodic trips to the memorial as a distraction. If only Sakura could see him now, resting and recuperating like a good injured shinobi.

Doctor Wada, the ever-attentive physician, returns a few more times to ask more questions and offer more reassurances. He seems set on his theory that Kakashi’s yet to be properly identified quirk was the cause of his memory problems. Kakashi runs through a sweet of memory and vision tests. A baseline for later testing when his eye is healed he is told.

“The police have a few questions regarding your situation. With your permission, they would like to conduct an interview,” says Wada on Kakashi’s third day of being officially awake, “Of course, as your doctor, I have the final say in the matter so if you would rather wait just say the word.”

Kakashi gives another bland smile, “Ah, you are too kind.” Police…as in, an authority the dealt with civilian conflict? “I think I’ll answer their questions. Wouldn’t want to stall an investigation.”

He had been wondering when or if he would be investigated. How similar would it be to Kohoha’s internal police force?

“Humph. If you think you’re ready for it.”

He maintains his smile. It was as good an opportunity as any to continue gathering information with the bonus of breaking up the monotony of waiting in a hospital bed for his injuries to heal. Doctor Wada spends the rest of the check-up muttering about pushy police officers and how underappreciated his medical opinion was.

The two men that come to question him are wearing matching uniforms which are very telling of the sort of organisation they belong to. White and dark blue. Not made to camouflage or reinforce. Restrictive seaming around the arms, preventing any extreme movement. Their shoes are sturdy but inflexible with heavy soles. Manurable but not designed for any excessive combat. Not a uniform you would give a force intended to physically subdue threats. Whereas Konoha’s police force was comprised mainly of genin and chunin, these men were closer to civilians in pure physical ability. Ah, but he is beginning to suspect that this was the norm here. The people here were softer in a way that was hard to define.

Kakashi watches them approach, seated upright in his bed, hands resting loose in his lap, aiming it create an impression harmlessness. One good thing to have come from agreeing to this interview was getting his own private hospital room. Now there was no one around to raise an alarm if something went wrong and he was forced to act.

“Good morning,” The older one of the two starts, politely dipping his head, “Kakashi was it?”

“Hmm,” he smiles, “Morning.” There is a pause like they are waiting for him to give his last name. He doesn’t.

“Well,” The man clears his throat, “I am officer Takata Toyokazu, currently in charge of investigating the circumstances surrounding the assault on your person.” An ID card, very similar to Konoha’s own ID cards is presented, “This is my partner. We’re from Hosu’s Central Police and we have a few questions if you don’t mind answering them for us.”

“Ah,” Kakashi eyes the ID, lamenting the fact that his sharingan is covered under a swatch of bandages and thus inaccessible without obvious movement, “I am afraid my memory just isn’t all there. Apologies in advance if my responses are lacking.”

He lets a little humour leak into his tone. It was time to do a little prodding and gauged how this place's ‘police’ conducted their investigations.

“Yes. We were informed about your memory problems.” The two share an obvious glance and there is a definite note of scepticism there. “Nevertheless, any information would be appreciated.”

“Of course.” He easily agrees, shrugging, projecting an air of casual nonchalance.

Takata blinks “Right,” and Kakashi can practically see his brain stalling, “Well, you were found on the corner of First and Eleventh street in Hosu’s Central Business District. Would you say this is accurate?”

Kakashi thinks for an exaggerated moment, “I do remember a lot of people. I think someone called for help?”

“You were picked up in an ambulance yes. Do you remember what happened before that?”

“Hmm, I was attacked…there were a lot of trees.” He nods like he has just delivered a useful bit of intel.

“Trees?” Is the deadpan response.

“You know…tall plants with leaves and a….”

“We know what trees are. So, you were in a place with a lot of trees before you were in Hosu’s business district.”

“Probably.”

“A park maybe? There are a few around Hosu. Do remember anything else. Distinctive landmarks?”

“Ah,” he waits for a beat, “No.”

Kakashi is the subject of a disbelieving squint. “No names. Streets. Nearby locations?”

“Nope. All gone.” He says cheerfully and Takata’s brow twitches into an irritated frown.

“You were admitted with multiple stab wounds. Do you remember how you got them?”

He shrugs, “A knife probably.”

“Well, do you remember anything about who was holding the knife?”

“OH!” The two men startle at this sudden exclamation, “It was a man.”

There are a few seconds of silence. “What did the man look like?”

“I don’t remember that bit.”

This time he gets a very obvious frown. Apparently, realising that the current line of questioning is getting them nowhere, the officer motions to his partner and is handed a large envelope. After some shuffling around, a paper file is produced and flipped upright in Kakashi’s direction. It is a photograph of kunai, shuriken, senbon, razor wire and assortment of other weaponry he carried around on his person. He had wondered what the hospital had done with his stuff.

“These are the weapons found on your person when you were admitted to hospital. All confiscated. It’s illegal to carry these sorts of thrown weapons and knives in Japan.”

He scans the photo with interest. The image has his weaponry all laid out in neat lines.

“Really?” He is not even faking his curiosity this time. No one carried around any weapons at all? That wasn’t just a trend limited to the hospital?

“Yes.” Comes the short response, “what were you using them for.”

“Oh, I don’t remember,” he says gleefully, “How scary.” And gets another round of scowls. After doggedly refusing to give more than vague answers and misdirection, the two increasingly frustrated men prepare to leave.

“If you do remember anything, please call.” A small paper card displaying a string of numbers is presented to him. “You’ll have to come down to the station and give an official statement once the hospital clears you as well so don’t forget. We’ll get in contact if any arrests are made regarding the perpetrator.”

Kakashi knows enough about investigations to recognise that one, the two standing next to his bed were searching for some specific information and had found Kakashi’s responses lacking, and two, they had no idea who Kakashi was and knew even less about how he might have gotten here.

In the end, they just leave. No threats. No mind games. No attempts to arrest or move him to a secure location for further questioning. Nothing. Kakashi follows after the pair, pausing behind his door to listen to the two talk just outside his room. Officer Takata is obviously angry going of his slightly uneven breathing.

“That was a waste of time,” he grumbles.

“Do you think he was lying?”

“Oh, that smiley bastard definitely knows something more than he is letting on. Tch. Memory problems my ass…”

The is a pause before the younger man asks, “still think it’s connected to that Hero Killer sighting from a few days ago?”

“If he is telling the truth then no. The stabbing lines up with the Hero Killer’s MO but the target is all wrong. There is no Kakaski with a ‘sharingan’ quirk listed on the Registry or as any Hero, Sidekick or Hero agency employee. If he did have a run-in with the Hero Killer, it wasn’t targeted. Probably annoyed the guy into stabbing him if anything.”

There is the sound of footsteps as the two men begin to retreat down the hall.

“A dead-end then.”

“Yeah, looks like it.”

“What a shame. I thought for sure, what with the extent of the injuries, that this was a Hero Killer case. Perhaps it was another Villain? Or a vigilante maybe?”

“Who though? Hosu doesn’t have any active Vigilantes or big-name Villains. Not ones who go around stabbing people to that extent. You saw the hospital report. The man was seconds away from bleeding out and that head wound was obviously aimed at disabling his quirk.”

“Tch. Without any leads, we have nothing to go on. And if Kakashi is a Villain or criminal himself, there’s no evidence and nothing we can pin him with other than a fine for carrying banned weaponry.”

The voices grow fainter as the two walk further away from his room. They seemed suspicious but not overly concerned with Kakashi’s lies so it is not a huge surprise that nothing came of the interview. Despite their obvious irritation, their response had been ones of mild annoyance and moderate distrust. If either of them had had a kekkei genkai it hadn’t been used. Perhaps, their abilities weren’t suited to interrogation. Kakashi had been obtuse enough that surely, they would have been tempted if it were a possibility. It does conform to a general trend in which people underestimate his threat level, treating him like a civilian. It was probably for the best.

Kakashi returns to his bed and stares at the paper card with the numbers. Obviously, they expected him to know what to do with it. Something to do with communication. Probably related to the small plastic devices nearly everyone in the building carried and spoke into on occasion. A radio of some sort. He had seen a few with numbers running across them.

From the exchange, he has a few more points to consider and mull over. Villain. Hero. Vigilante. He knows these terms, has heard people in his ward mention them before and knows they are important in some way.

…

Having a new room meant he needed to relearn everyone’s schedules. While doing so, he finally pinpoints why the people here feel so off. They lacked a level of…weariness…vigilance…that was both hard to describe and hard to notice until it wasn’t there anymore. Kakashi eyes the young nurse as she enters his room yawning, fixing her hair up as she walks, talking over her shoulder at someone behind her.

He had always thought the civilians of Kohoha lived free from most trouble. Not completely relaxed but still having a calm enough life. Well, calm when the village wasn’t being invaded. Now, he is revaluating that opinion. When compared with these people, Kohoha civilians were stiff, suspicious, almost paranoid. Konoha’s people had hardiness to them, a useful trait when living in a Hidden-Village. They were especially wearily when it came to interacting with shinobi no matter how banally and harmless the shinobi acted. It was an attitude to be expected when there was a very real chance of deadly injury should the shinobi be unfriendly or unstable. A very real possibility with all the war and ever-present threat of enemy invasion and chakra monster attacks.

Or maybe that was just his own experience as he never really interacted with many civilians and he his reputation wasn’t great.

“Hello Kakashi, how are you this evening,” The nurse greets him with a relaxed grin. He gives his bland smile and watches as she checks the various medical apparatus around Kakashi’s bed.

“I talked to the ward supervisor about your television. It should be working now.”

“Is it?”

Kakashi knows what a television is…they had a few of them in T&I, used for surveillance, and for a few more for monitoring remote training grounds like 44’s Forest of Death.

“Here is the remote. There are quite a lot of channels so now you’ll have something to keep you entertained.” He stares at the metallic rectangle object. He thinks that there might be a cultural difference between his understanding of a television and the nurse’s because watching an interrogation was never something he found particularly entertaining.

“Maybe it will help jog your memory as well.” The nurse gives him an encouraging smile before returning to her work.

Kakashi examines the object, bemused, “Ah, thank you Ms.”

“My name is Iori Ie I handle this ward on weekday evenings. I’ll be happy to answer any other questions if you have any. Anything to make this transition process easier.” She is sincere in her next assurance, “Just you wait, by the time your injuries are healed, we’ll have you right back up to speed.”

Television is…interesting and somewhat baffling. It’s not that Kakashi hasn’t seen examples of this sort of technology before now, it is just the availability and use he finds strange. Whereas a sensible village might hoard any new technology of its own use, here it is distributed and shared without limit. There was one of these things in every patent’s room! The same went for the information it communicated. Information so undervalued there was almost too much of it. Kakashi gives up trying to make sense of anything a few days into gaining access to the television and its hundreds of ‘channels,’ pumping out a constant stream of information. Some of it was obviously fictional, movies, entertainment, but most of the time it was hard to tell if what he was looking at was staged or if he was misreading a cultural difference. There were ‘channels’ devoted to daily status updates, delivering ‘news’ on everything from the weather, local politics, villain attacks, general crime and everything in between.

One thing he does confirm is that he is nowhere near any hidden villages or even on the continent, maybe not even in the correct world. This place was separate. This village or city as it was called, consisted of millions in a country of billions. There were more people in ‘Hosu’ than there were in the whole Fire Country. A logistics nightmare for sure. No wonder security was so lax around the hospital. Kakashi shakes his head and ends up switching off the television. Never would he have thought that having too much intel could be a bad thing.

“Ms Iori how would I go about getting something to read,” he asks the next day. She seems to be genuinely happy about his sudden sudden request. Kakashi hasn’t spoken or interacted much since waking, to busy trying to gauge whether the people surrounding him were threats.

He ends up with a pile of old manga volumes detailing the heroic adventures of some up and coming Hero protagonist and a stack of thin ‘magazines’ belonging to the nurse’s grown up son. The magazines are full of Hero analysis, speculation, and rumour like some sort of super detailed self-defeating bingo-book. He just…doesn’t understand why anyone would let this sort of information circulate.

At least now he has a better idea about what a Hero and Villain was. A Hero was this word’s shinobi equivalent- if shinobi went out of their way to draw attention to themselves- acting more like a police force in that they managed threats to civilians instead of taking commissions and repelling external threats. Actually, they were nothing like Shinobi apart from their use of blood line abilities in combat. A Villain was like a missing-nin, hiding among the ridiculously large civilian population…sort of…

He needs to start working on a way home because he definitely doesn't understand this world.

...

NOTE: When Kakashi discovers the internet his brain will explode.

PREV / NEXT

#bnha #naruto #my hero academia #boku no academia #hero killer arc #CrossOver #dimension travel AU #hatake kakashi #fanfiction #crossover fic #kakashi headcanons #culture shock

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years

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DEAR FISH FUCKERS, YOU’RE WELCOME

I’ve done what no other has done before (to my knowledge) and found the aging system for the Zora!

Ok so this started as simple research for this ask

See, I misread the phrasing of “best educated guess” to “research for 2 hours and come to a conclusive answer” so anyhow before I indulge you into the answers of the universe allow me to explain the research I’ve come across

[TL;DR at the bottom]

So firstly, we have to look at our conclusive evidence, from which we’ll base our theory/headcanon on, which can mainly be found in the Creating a Champion book, and some dialogue in game. I’ve compiled them all in these bullets here

Zora children are around 20ish years old [as said by dialogue with Finley in her love letter sidequest, I don’t have a screenshot but please just take my word for it]

150ish is considered middle-aged for Zora

Muzu is around 4 centuries old

Curved claws, weathered fins, and worn noses are signs of an older Zora that is more than 3 centuries(ish) old

Zora that were friends with Link must be around 150ish (not just 100), since you need to also account for the 20+ years of growing from a child stage, to the more normal sized form that you see them in the game, ergo, it’s that age plus the 100 years stasis that we determine the “middle age” of around 150

150 is the middle age, double that for the average old age of 300 years, but I say it could go to 400 too for additional reasons I’ll explain later with examples with my final age system. Anyhow, Muzu is around 400 if you take the 100 years for actually growing up from childhood, additional 100+ years of holding a different job as I doubt you just straight out hire a councilman without experience, and then another century for where he first started working in in the council, training Mipha, which would overlap with the period of the pre and post Great Calamity and Link’s return, meaning that’s 3 centuries plus 50ish years if we’re being generous with the overlap. This would help line up with the “for over a century” line as that doesn’t quite mean 2 centuries of working in the council, but Muzu is definitely getting up there to 4 centuries for his age alone

Now, I thought, this was gonna be my breakthrough, this screenshot here, depicting the traits of the older Zora. The elderly Zora are probably around 3 centuries old (since King Dorephan said they were young men around Mipha’s time, 150ish+100 gives us the range of 250-300), so I was like “Oh l can look at the size of their fins and noses and head/tail things and find a more efficient way to find their age” but nOPE. There is very little variation in that ballpark, the Zora either have exaggerated weathered noses or nice and shiny fins and no in between. The size of their head fins are roughly the same, with again, the only exaggerated differences being with the King and Sidon which doesn’t help at all because the Royal Zora already have a bunch of other difference such as their SIZE to name one.

I even went to the part about their curved toes, which initially would line up with some other Zora like Muzu

And let me tell you

I’ve looked at their toes

This is them from a child, a middle-aged, and an elderly. Color doesn’t matter and the curve? Well there’s

BARELY A DIFFERENCE

At least not nearly enough to find an efficient way to find age. Even Muzu’s final model didn’t have the exaggerated curvature as seen in the book.

I looked at their tail tail fins, (not the tail on their head, but their actual small rounded tail fin by their butts) because the book also mentioned how the grown Zora have more pronounced tail fins compared to the kids, but it was the same for the 150s and the 300s sooo not that helpful

So I kept digging. In the book I found that King Dorephan was crowned around 100 years before the game started. In addition I reread the 10 Zora stone monuments and found that he had killed a Guardian with his bare hands and thrown it off a cliff, which he still had a scar from.

[and yes I attempted to find his definitive age by seeing how long it takes for a scar to fade but I gave up cause Zora anatomy is too different to find a conclusive answer]

So I was like, “ok Dorephan had to have been around 150 when he came to the throne, then 50 years later the guardians are excavated giving way to the story about the guardian...” blah blah blahbla I even went to the supposed site where that guardian was, but it all didn’t really give me that much more info than what I already knew. I was researching ways to age the rock monuments from visuals alone which needless to say is pretty impossible, so I gave up on finding Dorephan’s age and I kept digging.

All I wanted was something physical that could properly give way to identifying a Zora’s age was that too much to ask???

Now this is where I had all but given up, it seems that my only answer was this vague note about how their fins move up when they grow

Which, to be fair, held true when I looked at the in-game character models myself, but I can’t exactly pixel measure these things for each Zora.

But THAT’S where the revelation came. I was so focused on finding inconsistencies within the elderly Zora, when I should have been looking at the young baby ones. See, this pictures, literally right next to the page about elderly Zora that I was analyzing for ages, is the key to it all

Now, I was thinking about the rings on a tree, and certain species of banded fish that grow and discard different markings as they grow older, I even counted the neck rings on certain Zora to see if they did that thing where they add a ring for each birthday like some African and Asian cultures do (look it up, that stuff’s pretty interesting!) and that is where it struck me.

Count how many luminescent markings are on their head

The males have 11, the females have 8 (on the one side, the other side has the same number of dots but for simplicity purposes I’m doing one side)

Now let’s count for these Zoras, who are middle aged-ish

The male has 10, the female has 7.

Now let’s look at the oldest Zora that we know of

3 dots above the eye, four on the tail. Muzu that motherfucker has 7 damn dots and I couldn’t be happier.

MY DUDES, GALS, AND PALS THIS IS IT, I’VE CHECKED AND DOUBLE CHECKED WITH NEARLY EVERY ZORA I COULD AND THE NUMBER OF LUMINESCENT MARKINGS ON THEIR HEAD CORRESPONDS WITH THE AMOUNT OF CENTURIES THEY’VE LIVED, LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY DOWN TO THE DOT

First we have Muzu, who as I’ve preciously stated is around 4 centuries old. 11-4? Oh, it’s seven, and that’s the amount of markings he has? OOoo??

How about this Zora Lady who recognized Link from 100 years ago?

Seven dots? 8-7 is 1 so shes just over one century which lines up timeline wise. You can even see how the third dot is slowing shrinking on her head so she’s coming up on 2 centuries

Ok how about the elders?

NINE. 11-9 is 2 centuries, with again, the dot by their head shrinking significantly showing how they’re getting up on 3 centuries.

The part I circled in green there is jewelry, not a marking, however this only goes further to prove my point. What better way to appear youthful than to have jewelry that makes it look like you have more markings than you have, made with luminous stone, no less.

This guy? Seggin? Super close to 4 centuries, those dots are fading away fast. Count your days old timer

Random dude that doesn’t recognize Link but is an new apprentice for sculpture making? 10 dots, a fresh 1 century pal, lookin young

I was a feral child running across the Domain screaming people’s ages in their face like a rude, naive, brat, I was elated to say the least. Especially since this system even works on the King himself

[plus one dot slightly behind the fin here...]

King Dorephan has 7 dots, he’s 400 years old. Which still lines up timeline wise, especially since he’s similar age with Muzu who he has stated is one of his most trusted advisors, beecaaaaaaaause of the years they’ve spent working together the timelines match uppppppp

This system works for almost all Zora, with 2 exceptions. Guards have helmets that cover their markings, so it’s impossible to tell. In addition, Prince Sidon, has sixteen lights on this hammerhead because he’s fancy like that (we already know he’s canonically 2ish centuries old anyhow from the DLC)

EDIT: I WAS WRONG THIS WORKS FOR SIDON TOO. The sixteen markings I was referring to was actually the amount of marking on each side of the head total, however if we look at the markings for only one side, like intended

Ten dots, Sidon’s over 100 years old. I’d say he’s closer to 150 given the timeline

Essentially, the most surefire way to find almost any Zora’s age is to identify a male or female Zora, count the number of lights on the side of their head/tail thing, then subtract from 11 if they’re a male, and from 8 for a female. The number left is how many centuries they’ve lived. You can check to see if their markings are shrinking and fading to get a sense if they’re coming up on the next century anytime soon. Comparing this with the oldest Zora we see in game, we can conclusively say that the Zora lifespan is around 3 to 4 centuries since no Zora has been seen with less than seven markings

Now go and make your Zora ocs with your appropriate number of lights. I’m gonna have a cookie

#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #zora #zora botw #botw theory #botw headcanon #no fuck that this IS canon

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intu-witch-tion · 3 years

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(Resend) Prompt : You/reader bump into Pedro Pascal bump into one another in NYC (coffee shop, bar, club, etc. during the day/night, your choice) and then... whatever! It could be something a simple as he asks you out or a steamy one night stand!

No Funny Business (Pedro Pascal x Female Reader)

Word Count: 5.9K (well, shit. My bad, I guess.)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, gambling, fluff, teasing, smut, P in Va-G sans condom (be safe, friendos.)

Notes: I took this idea and morphed it into something else I have been thinking on. Essentially I wanted to capture a full date night with Pedro. With a happy ending, if you catch my drift. 😂 😘

7:21pm

“There’s a party tonight. And we’re going.” Your roommate spouted as she walked in the door. You had just moved to California in an effort to start over and one of your long-time friends, Sarah, had offered for you to stay with her until you got on your feet. She worked as a camera technician on big movie sets in Hollywood so it was no shock that she knew about all the who’s who parties in the area. However, it had only been a few weeks since you arrived and developing a social life was honestly the last thing on your mind as you looked at all the boxes that needed unpacking.

“Did you hear me?” Her insistent voice rang out from the kitchen as her keys flung onto the counter. You grinned and shook your head, chuckling under your breath. She was a wild one and kept you on your toes. Moving to LA wouldn’t have been a complete adventure without her. She stood in the doorway of your room and looked down at you sitting on the floor, surrounded by cardboard boxes. She threw you an intent stare, head cocked to the side as she awaited your response.

“A party? It’s a Wednesday night.” You whined softly, trying to shirk your way out of going and knowing full well the effort would be futile.

“It’s LA, baby!” Sarah exclaimed, raising her arms in the air with a jovial heel kick causing you both to bubble with laughter. You clambered off the floor, using the boxes to balance, pulling a wad of balled up masking tape off your hip. You sighed, feeling a bit defeated and knowing you didn’t have a choice in the matter. Sarah pinched her lips in a shit-eating grinning, realizing her own victory.

“Let’s find you something to weeeear!” She bubbled, grabbing your arm and dragging you into her bedroom.

9:34pm

“What kind of party is this anyways?” You inquired as Sarah parked the car on a hilly street. Grandiose houses lined either side of the road. You had driven nearly an hour to get here.

“It’s just a small house party. Some film editor’s best friend or…something. I don’t know. I just saw a random flyer on my boss’ desk and figured—‘when in Rome!’ ” Sarah shrugged, her tone nonchalant.

Your head turned to her quickly, eyes wide and blinking at her in disbelief. “You mean--we aren’t invited?!” Your voice squeaked through the neighborhood, the echo bouncing off the walls of the houses and back to your ears. Sarah grabbed your arms, shushing you. “Dude, chill. It’s an LA party. And it’s totally casual. Just. Be cool.”

Your lip curled in discomfort, an involuntary eye twitch causing your face to contort. Sarah laughed at your expression and waved you off, pulling you up the steep driveway and to the door of the house. You expected her to knock but instead, Sarah just grabbed the door handle and waltzed right in like she owned the place. You grimaced, clutching the small purse at your side as if it could transport you somewhere else.

The house was modern and relatively sterile, with dim lighting and the hum of music in the background, loud enough but not drowning. Sarah hurried you along, pulling you into a large room with massive windows scaling up to the ceiling. It was filled with people, some gathered at a bar in the corner and others sitting placidly, sharing a drink and conversation. Sarah waved at a gentleman across the room and she turned to you with a sheepish grin. “Hey, that’s that guy I was telling you about.” You rolled your eyes with a soft smile, now understanding the real reason why we were here. You knew you would likely be finding your own way home this evening. “Go ahead.” You giggle. Sarah looks at you a bit worried, not wanting to leave you alone but hyper-focused on meeting her crush at the back of the room. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine. Go!” She hugged you quickly and wasted no time pushing her way through the throngs of people.

You needed a drink. You found a bucket of beer on ice and quickly grabbed one, popping the top off and taking a generous swig. Your eyes swept the ambient room and noticed there were actually a few celebrities present. Aiden Gillen, who you recognized from Game of Thrones, leaning against a chair while chatting with an intimate group. And was that---Cole Sprouse? Random. And Paul Giamatti? What these people had in common, you would never know. The Hollywood crowd was an enigma.

You took another sip of your beer and made your way into the next room where you heard a loud rise of voices and a bunch of clapping. Your brow furrowed, curiosity over the uproar drawing you closer. You see a poker table surrounded by people laughing and carrying on. Poker could be fun. You took a seat and see the table is about to start a fresh game. “Room for one more?” You call out and everyone looks over at you with a welcoming smile. “Welcome to the table!” The dealer beckons. “Our current undefeated champ is off getting a drink so we will begin momentarily.” You nod and take another sip of your drink, reaching into your purse to grab some cash to add to the betting pool.

A few people start clapping and as you look up from your wallet, you see a man sit down across the table. And your heart sinks down into the pit of your stomach. Pedro Pascal. Your mouth goes dry and it’s all you can do to keep from looking like a deer in headlights. “Pedro’s back! Let’s do this!” The dealer calls, his voice high-spirited. You try to remember how to breathe and instead you clear your throat awkwardly, followed by an embarrassing sort of cough (?!). Everyone looks over at you, Pedro included, and you wave like an idiot. “Yeah, no—sorry. I’m good. I’m ready.” Mortifying. Greeeat. You wince at your own lack of decorum and proceed to watch the dealer cut the deck.

Finishing your beer swiftly, you hope the liquid courage gives you the strength you need to remember how to read numbers to get through this game. You pick up your cards. You’re relieved to see you’ve been dealt a good hand. You lift your eyes up and give the other players a methodical glance, stopping on Pedro’s pensive face longer than you should have. He must have felt you looking at him because his eyes lift from his cards in a quick motion and your face burns like a wildfire as you turn your attention back to your cards. Fuck.

The game proceeds with Pedro calling the initial bet, followed by one player folding while the other checks to avoid the bet. When it rolls around to your turn, you are confident. “Call.” You state plainly, locking eyes with Pedro across the table. He raises an eyebrow as you match his bet. The game continues this way until it is just the two of you left playing. You sit with 7 cards in your hand, eying them sharply. Pedro slinks into his seat a bit, looking a bit too relaxed. He’s bluffing. You speculate. You hold a straight flush. There’s only one hand that could beat that. You were ready to take your chances.

“Raise.” You chime, eyes never leaving your cards. He stares at you for a moment, gazing at the pile of cash on the table. There is a pregnant pause, and everyone is watching in earnest, so quiet one could hear a pin drop. Pedro finally sits up in his seat and grins with a nod, laying his cards down on the table. “Fold.” He says, a hint of defeat hidden beneath his playful countenance. A satisfied smirk creeps over your lips and you lay your cards out, revealing your hand. Everyone claps and Pedro flips his cards to show his weak Three of a Kind and you can hardly keep from laughing. “Another round.” Pedro insists and you shake your head. “I think not. I’d better cash-in while I’m ahead.” You say with a wink, swiping your hand across the green felt table and grabbing your winnings. Everyone is chattering on as you walk away from the table. Did you really just kick Pedro’s ass in Poker? You stuff the cash into your purse and scan the room. You see Sarah and her friend loitering in a corner, extremely close to one another and you know this wouldn’t be the time to brag about your poker victory, much less your Pedro encounter.

Your curious mind gets the better of you and you look back at the poker table which is now shockingly vacant. Everyone must have determined that was enough for the night and dispersed after you snatched all the cash and bailed. Whoops. You turn your attention to the bar, thinking now would be a good time for another drink and there he was, laughing with a small group of nameless strangers. You grab a couple of beers from the bucket which is now filled with mostly ice water.

Slinking up behind him, you lean against the bar, barely brushing your shoulder against his. He feels the pressure of someone close to him and instinctually gives a quick glance over his shoulder. But as he goes to look away, he double-takes when he realizes it’s you. You’re suddenly met with a handsome grin and a low chuckle. “Have you come to gloat?” He teases, abandoning his other conversation and squaring his shoulders to face you. You laugh and hand him a beer, wriggling your nose up in an apologetic gesture. “I figured the least I could do was bring you a beer.” He accepts it with a nod, looking down at the bottle as he plucks off the cap. “Yeah, since you took all the cash in my wallet, that does seem like a pretty fair trade.” Your jaw drops in faux-shock at his snarky remark. You try your best not to laugh. “Oh man. I guess I should have brought you some ice too.” You reply, and his brow furrows as he contemplates your meaning while bringing the beer up to his lips. You take the opportunity to seal the punch line. “Ohhhh. For the sick burn you’re experiencing, I mean.” He doubles over and brings his fist to his mouth as he struggles to swallow his beer through a sudden tear of laughter. “Wow. That was bad.” He adds once he’s able to regain his composure.

You both chuckle and you extend your hand out for a greeting. “I’m Y/N.” He smiles and takes your hand, shaking it politely. “Pedro Pascal.” There is a momentary silence and you don’t know what to say. Do you tell him how great he is? How much you love his films and that you admire his work? That felt so…weak. So instead, you manage, “Nice to meet you,” and you pull the bottle to your lips to sip your beer again as a filler to the dead space between you. He gives you a puzzled look for a moment and you almost feel as though you did something wrong, until.

“Hey, there’s an open sofa over there. Let’s go sit.” He suggests, making his way over without waiting for you to agree. You follow him and sit down on the grey velvet loveseat, which ironically seemed a lot bigger from across the room. The two of you are sitting closer than you had planned. Pedro doesn’t seem to mind it, draping his arm over the back of the couch and behind your head. He places his beer between his legs as he crosses one over the other. He’s so relaxed and it’s a marvel to you how at ease he is. And then you realize something…so are you? Shouldn’t you be bursting at the seams, gushing for this man you have drooled over for so long? But as you looked at him, sitting on the couch next to you, you feel entirely poised and comfortable.

12:36 am

The two of you were swept up for what felt like forever talking about all manner of things, laughing and teasing one another to the point where you felt nothing like strangers who had only met hours ago. You had lost track of time. And Sarah—who had apparently left over an hour ago having spotted you and Pedro on the couch chatting it up like old pals. She didn’t want to interrupt and sent you a text, which she knew you would check later.

“Hey bich. I’m going home with Greg. Looks like you’ve got a ride figured out. I expect ALL THE TEA tomorrow. 😈 Luv ya!”

Your beer bottles had been empty for a while as you give it a shake for good measure, watching a few lonely drops sloshing around the bottom. Pedro chuckles and looks around the room. Everyone had mostly filtered out, apart from a few. You look at him and give a sheepish smile and he goes to open his mouth to say something and stops himself. You tilt your head a little and squint in his direction. “…what?” You inquire. He sits up, placing his empty beer bottle on the coffee table in front of him. “No, nothing. It’s weird.” His voice tapers. You lean off the back of the couch, bringing yourself closer to him. “Let’s hear it. I like weird.” He turns to you and bites his lip slightly with a smirk. “Come home with me.” He blurts. Your eyes nearly burst from their sockets. He said what now?! He laughs and places his hand on your knee and all the sirens in your head start wailing, your arms going numb. “No funny business, I swear. But I am having a good time with you. Besides, all the beer here is luke-warm at best.” You remain silent, considering his proposal. You weren’t the type to just go home with someone you have only known for 4 hours—Pedro Pascal or otherwise. Was he the type to invite randos to his house?

As if reading your mind, he starts again. “Look, I don’t just randomly bring people home with me. Please don’t get that idea.” His voice goes soft and a bit distant. “I just don’t want our night to end yet.” You look into his rich, brown eyes and you inhale deeply, pondering over your options. You could call a cab and just go home. But a cab ride this time of night and nearly an hour away---you could see all your poker winnings blowing out the window.

“I have a guest room.” He adds gratuitously. And you turn to him and laugh. “Oh? Does THE Pedro Pascal have a guest room?” You taunt him, holding your hands up to your mouth. “Now you’re just rubbing your lavish lifestyle in my face.” Your words dripping with sarcasm. He laughs heartily. “Oh, so you DO know who I am?” You look at him in surprise. “Of course I do! Why would you think I didn’t?” He shrugged, running his index finger along the stubble on his chin. “Most people I meet rave about my movies or my,” he adds air quotes to the word, “work.” You smirk, pursing your lips tight like a drawstring bag. “I took your poker money AND I didn’t visibly fawn over you. It’s been a hard night for Pedro, hasn’t it?” You say in a boo-boo voice, pinching his cheek. He laughs and swats at you.

Your laughter tapers and you look at him with a soft smile. “No funny business.” You confirm and he grins from ear to ear. “You got it. Let’s get out of here then.”

1:04am

He opens the white Mercedes door and you climb into the car. It is a sporty sedan but not ostentatious. He gets in and push-starts the ignition. You put on your seatbelt as he does and he looks over at you, a cable in his hand. You look at him inquisitively. “Pedro’s Car Rules. Whoever is in the passenger seat must hook up their music. So that I may adequately judge you.” You laugh and shy away from the cable. “Judge me? Seriously?” He wags the cable in your face. “We don’t move until you plug in your phone.” He shrugs and takes his other hand off the wheel. You groan and snatch the cable from him, your fingers grazing over his as you do, sending an electric shock through you.

You plug your phone in, fumbling past your sudden nervousness. “Ok, let me find something.” Pedro immediately stops you. “Nope. Shuffle.” Your jaw drops and you cut eyes at him playfully. He tilts his head towards you and raises his eyebrow and you know you must acquiesce. You nod and say nothing, shaking your head as you push the shuffle button and hit play. Please, for the love of fuck don’t be something ridic---.

My Shot – Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast Recording)

You face-palm and let out an audible groan. Pedro starts laughing and cranks the volume. “Excelleeent.” You listen to the entire song and by the end of it, you are both singing along, laughing when you mess up a lyric.

Mi Gente – J Balvin, Willy Williams

Pedro turns to you with an amused look of surprise. You raise your hands in the air and giggle. “It’s a jam. Don’t hate.”

Take on Me – a-ha

The moment this song drops you both immediately start hitting the air-keys, harmonizing and dancing beneath your seatbelts.

Kiss – Prince

Pedro exclaims. “Ahhh! Yes!” You both carry on over your love for Prince and the rest of the car ride consists of an exchange of stories on how the artist was such a powerful influence on your lives, not paying much attention to anything else that plays over the stereo system.

1:47am

He pulls up to a house at the end of a rather unassuming suburban street. It was clean and contemporary, with neatly kempt flower beds filled with beige river rocks and cacti with pink and orange flowers, their blossoms closed until dawn. It was not a small house, but it was also not what you would expect a celebrity of Pedro’s status to call home. It wasn’t a large pseudo-mansion with pillars and stately windows. Instead, it was inauspiciously beautiful.

You open the car door and walk along the driveway up to the front door, which was a beautiful knotty oak with an ochre stained finished. The golden hue of the door made for a lovely contrast against the white stucco house and black framed windows. Pedro opened the door, inviting you to step in first. You awkwardly cross the threshold into a hallway that feeds directly into a living room. Large windows open up to an outdoor veranda and what looks to be a hot tub, but you can’t quite make it out in the dark.

You hadn’t noticed that Pedro had stepped into the kitchen and returned with two beers. “Shall I give you the tour, m’lady?” He jokes, handing you the bottle with a smile. You grin, giving a small bow. “Yes please!” He shows you around the living room, kitchen, and a few other extra-curricular spaces—the gym, the game room--until you find that you have circled back to the heart of the house where you began. He points to a hallway. “And over here are the bedrooms. I didn’t want to sound like a braggart before, but...” He leans in, his whisper grazing the nape of your neck. Your eyes close and your mouth falls agape as you feel his breath against the shell of your ear. “I actually have four guest rooms.” You take in a sputtering breath and try to laugh at his attempt at a joke, which was completely lost on you the moment his lips brushed over your ear.

Did he do that on purpose? He makes his way down the hallway, showing you each of the bedrooms. And then he stops at the last one. “You’ll sleep in here.” You nod, trying to understand what was wrong with the other three. “And where is your room?” The moment you ask it, you wish you could suck the words back into your mouth. He takes a sip from his beer and smiles against the bottle’s opening. “Right over here.” Directly across from “your” room, were double doors that led to his own bedroom. Now you understood why he picked that room for you. No funny business. Right.

You step into his bedroom and you are immediately hit with the smell of him. Notes of amber and sandalwood with a hint of a wood-burning fire. You nearly melted. His room was orderly but not stuffy. The bed was made but the covers wrinkled, almost like he haphazardly went through the motions without much thought to the final result. A small seating area sat in front of a large bay window with long, chiffon curtains. It was cozy. You turn to look at him with a smile, and his eyes have been settled on you for some time. The energy humming between the two of you made a drastic shift. You bit your lip as your eyes traced over him. His shoulders, his biceps, his large, veiny hands. The way he stood with both feet planted on the floor as if he were preparing for the earth to unexpectedly move beneath him.

“Pedro…” You said his name and you didn’t really know why. You had nothing of import to say. But the way his name tasted on your tongue... You gulped. He stepped closer to you, his motions slow as he took the bottle from your hand and placed them both on a table by the door. He turned to face you, his hands running down your arms and you locked your knees to keep from swooning like an 18th century courtier. His gaze was darting all over your face, sweeping over your eyes and down to your lips and back up again. “I know I said no funny business…” He murmured, his voice deep and tender.

He ran his fingers along your neck, combing them through a few strands of your hair before bringing his fingertips up to your jaw line. He lifted your chin so your eyes met his and in that moment, you came undone. It was as though someone shoved a box of lit matches down your throat and they burned in your chest. You hastily grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him into you, your lips colliding with a heated force. His hands began to feverishly climb over your back, your tongue running a soft line over the delicious part of his lips where he quickly granted you access. His tongue invaded your mouth in earnest, and you moaned softly, the sound humming into his head and sending him reeling. He picked you up, your kiss never breaking, and laid you down on his bed. Your hands cupped his cheeks before racing through his russet hair.

The kiss broke for a moment and you lay beneath him, your heavy breathing matching his own. His chocolate eyes glittered as they scanned down your body, his hand landing on your stomach. You twitch as he slips it beneath your shirt, lifting it up to expose the black lacy bra you wore underneath. He hummed under his breath, dropping over you enough until you felt the soft cotton of his grey shirt graze your mid-section. His hand searched along the waistline of your pants and back up again and you whimpered. He tilted his head up to look at you. “I can stop.” He stated thoughtfully.

You shook your head feverishly. He had barely touched you, yet he could see the apparent agony on your face as you slowly unraveled beneath him. “Use your words, Y/N.” He whispered low in your ear before kissing your earlobe ever so softly, pulling away with the most delicate plipping sound. “Please don’t stop.” You breathed desperately. He needed no other coaxing. He swiftly lifted the shirt from over your head and made quick work of sliding your pants down. You fumbled at the button of his jeans and he stood by the edge of the bed and kicked them off as he peeled away his shirt and tossed it onto the floor. He hovered over you as he stood by the bed and you were able to get a good look at him, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. You could tell by the pitch of his underwear that he was more than ready. And yet, he just stood there, staring at you. Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, you start to fold your arms over your body in an effort to hide yourself. And he smirks with a shake of his head, his knees crashing onto the bed and grabbing your wrists, pinning them over your head. “Let me look at you, Y/N.” You give a half-cocked smile as he lets your wrists go. You keep them over your head obediently, granting him what he wants. “You are...” His voice trails as his hands begin to trace along your sides. “Fucking beautiful.” He finishes his sentence and you turn your face into the pillow, hiding your embarrassment.

He chuckles, turning your head back and leaning down to kiss you gently. His hands roam over your breasts, the black lacy bra still a barrier from his attentions. You reach around and unhook it with ease, and they spill out into his palms. He massages them for a moment, flicking his fingers over your taught nipples, pinching slightly. Your back arches off the bed in response. He moans as he takes each into his mouth, circling his tongue across the peaked flesh and then sucking on the velvet skin beneath.

In a motion like silk, his hand finds the wet mound between your legs and you shudder in surprise as he strokes against the fabric, a dark damp patch in your underwear the aftermath of his ministrations. “Fuck.” The word flowed from his exhale, so low you could barely hear it. It was strained and focused. His cock twitched aggressively in his underwear, burning to bury itself inside of you. He hooked his fingers over your panties, dragging them down and tossing them to the wayside. With his firm grip on your knees, he then plunged himself deep into your slick folds. You writhe violently as the feeling of his tongue sends you into a frenzy. “Pedro—” His name trips from your lips as you try to take a breath and at the sound of it, he moans into your pussy, his tongue delving deeper as if to reward you for your lustful admission.

You twist your fingers into his disheveled hair as you buck your hips against him in ardent pulses. “Ah—fuck. Don’t stop—” You plead and the moment that you say it, he pulls away with a devilish smirk. Your hands still tangled in his hair, giving him an admonishing tug as you whine for him to continue. He puckers his lips as if to say “shh”, but no sound emerges. He reaches down to the elastic band of his boxer briefs, letting them slip over his hips. His cock springs out, thick and lengthy, bobbing up and down from its own weight. He gives it a couple of hard pumps as he brings his fingers to your wet pussy and begins to lightly tease the lips, all while circling the head of his cock with his thumb, a bead of precum stringing its way onto your thigh.

You spread your legs wider, tucking your ankles underneath him and pulling him closer. “Stop teasing me.” You whimper. But your begging only spurs him on. “Mmm. Tell me what you want, sweet thing.” You moan at the use of a pet name. “You know exactly what I want.” You squelched impatiently, your hunger for him exceeding all manner of niceties. He leaned over you, groaning into your neck as the head of his cock tickles the damp lips of your entrance. He holds steady there as you jerk beneath him, desperate for him to fuck you. “Patience, baby.” He coos, sinking his mouth upon you. His lips searched over your collarbone and back up to your neck. Your breath purled against the side of his face as you closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his tongue sampling every part of your body.

In the hopes of stopping his teasing, you proceed to do a little teasing of your own. You ran your tongue across his earlobe, nibbling gently with a soft moan of his name into his ear. “Pedro..” He groans softly in response, his cock still teasing you. You kiss his neck, sucking lightly and he reaches down and begins rubbing the head of his cock on your sensitive clit, dragging it up and down. “You’re so—ah, fuck— so wet.” The forced words fall from his lips as if he is fighting through pain. And without another beat, he slowly sheathes himself inside of you. You both let out a drawn-out cry at the sensation and your nails dig into his arms as he arches his back to get as deep as he can. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, closing his eyes and drowning in the depths of your wet grip on him. You pulsed and squeezed to match his rhythm and he swiftly planted his hands on your hips to still your movement. “Mmm. Take it easy on me, baby. I’ll cum in a second if you keep that up.” His voice strained as he continued to pump.

In a rapid motion, Pedro whisks you in his arms and sits on the bed, impaling you on his cock. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you inhale deeply at the fullness of him inside of you. You rode him leisurely and he did not rush you. The tightening of your muscles moving up and down upon his shaft was enough to send him over the edge, but his eyes remained locked on you as you worked towards your euphoric goal. Your breathing began to accelerate, and he winced with pleasure as you dug your nails into his shoulders. “Cum for me, sweet thing.” Taking the lead again, he proceeded to drive his cock upwards, matching your pace, his grip tight around your ass and you felt a rush of pleasure overcome you as your wet, velvet walls constricted around his cock in violent pulses. He wanted to burst into you, but he refused to let it end so quickly.

Your orgasm faded and you slumped over his shoulder, panting as you came down from your high. He leaned you back so that you would fall softly onto the pillows. He admired you as you laid on the bed before him, your skin glistening with the aftermath of your efforts and reveling in the sensations still thrumming through you. He dropped onto his back next to you, his cock standing at attention, an indication his outward relaxation was only a courtesy to the exasperated woman beside of him.

Rolling over in a rapid movement, he slipped two fingers inside of you mechanically. You were near to purring at the unexpected feeling of his touch and you rocked against him in supplication. He demonstratively pulled you closer by your legs, letting his veiny cock graze along your stomach and dribble some pre-cum onto your flushed skin. You exhaled at the sensation of his warm, full length on your belly. In an instant, he withdrew his fingers and slotted his cock into the space they left behind. The muscles in his back bunched under your nails as he felt your body tense beneath him, straining to reach that pleasure again. His thrusting persisted with a devout purpose, willing you to cum. Your hands raced up his back and into his hair, clutching madly. “Mmm. So—fucking--good.” He praises you with each thrust. And with that, the heat of your core burst, spreading through you as you arched up hard beneath his weight, legs flying up to wrap around his waist to let him sink just a fraction deeper as your walls strangled his cock in rhythmic pulses. The rapturous screams that burst from your lips nearly synonymous with sobbing.

He pulled himself from you and your chest heaved with labored breaths. But he would not wait for your full recovery this time, his own need too strong. He spread your legs without missing a beat and before you could prepare, he slammed himself so deep inside of you that you were whining in pain-riddled pleasure. He groaned, sweat dripping from his brow. You whimpered desperately, his name dripping over your lips in a pathetic mewl. He bemoaned and withdrew almost completely, leaving only his swollen purple head inside. You took a single breath and he surged upwards as if to punctuate a point, hands dropping on either side of your head as your legs fell over his shoulders, a rough sound escaping his lips. You were struggling to catch your breath as he plunged into you time and time again, his pace gradually picking up and becoming rougher and rougher.

“F-fuuck.” He grunted under his breath and once again, you were fit to explode like a supernova. “P-Pedro!” You coaxed, savoring once more the way his name filled your mouth how he filled you now. The sound of it trilling from your lips was enough to finally send him over the edge with you. As the throes of orgasm built in you, he thrust rapidly into your writhing body, his own climax coming hard on the heels of your own, leaving him limp and replete on top of you.

You lay listless on the bed together for a good while, unable to move and entirely exhausted. Once you had caught your breath you looked over at him to find his eyes were closed, a wide smile plastered on his visage. You nudge him in the shoulder playfully. “Proud of yourself?” You jest. All he can do is nod, the grin growing wider.

Another beat of silence passes, and he rolls over, his hand lazily placed on the small of your back as he buries his nose into your hair before planting a sleepy kiss on your head. “You ok?” He hums, the timbre of his voice dusky from exhaustion.

“Better than ok. But…there is something I need to ask you.” You say, turning to face him in the bed. He looks at you quizzically, worried that something might be wrong. He raises an eyebrow in response. A serious expression crosses your countenance and he props himself up on his elbow, growing a little concerned.

“Wha--what is it?” He asks, worried.

“Do you have toothbrush I can borrow?” You ask with a grin. He wrestles you to the bed for toying with him and you both laugh.

“Yes, sweet thing.” He replies with a smile, crawling out of bed, bare assed and all, in pursuit of a toothbrush for you.

💫Fanfic requests open @intu-witch-tion💫

#pedro pascal #pedropascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x female reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #30

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: Lovely Julian Bennett belongs to the even more lovely @slytherindisaster

Word Count: ~ 4.000

___________________________________________

Chapter 30: Making Amends

The conversations with Orion and Skye kept gnawing at Lizzie over the next few days. In their own ways, both of them had made it clear to her how important it was to get back on track; not only for herself, but for the general good of their team as well.

Thinking about what they had said, Lizzie realised how much of an open door they had been pushing; there was nothing she wanted more than things to return to their normal state, so she could have all of her friends back. And if making amends would help increase her performance, all the better.

There wasn’t much she could do about either Rowan or Orion at this point, so Lizzie had started thinking about how to get back into Charlie's good books.

Skye had suggested a gesture of goodwill to make him listen to her and after contemplating her advice for a few days, an idea had started to form in Lizzie’s mind.

After sending a few owls back and forth, she now found herself in the hallway of the Eastern Tower. She had been standing in front of the portrait hole hiding the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room for quite some time now, engaged in a heated discussion with the Fat Lady, the occupant of the picture guarding the portrait hole.

“I really don’t see the problem,” Lizzie rolled her eyes; she had forgotten just how many times she had done this in the last half hour. “I don’t even know if he’s in. Can’t you just go inside and have a look? Or ask another portrait for all that it’s worth?”

The Fat Lady huffed indignantly, fluffing herself up to an even greater volume than she held anyway. “And leave my post unguarded? No way, young lady. I still don’t understand what a Hufflepuff is doing here in the first place.”

She gestured at Lizzie’s attire dismissively. It was the evening before the match and the pre-match party was scheduled to start immediately after dinner. Lizzie was already dressed in her yellow jersey from last season and a black letterman jacket bearing her name and number on the back; it had been a combined birthday gift from her friends back in November.

Lizzie buried her hands in the pocket of her jacket now, feeling the rough parchment of the letter she was carrying. “I told you, I’m looking for Charlie.”

“From what I hear, you have a match against my House tomorrow,” the Fat Lady squinted down at her suspiciously, “you have no business here.”

“Your House?” Lizzie asked with an amused undertone. “You’re a portrait, you are just guarding the entrance.”

“Careful missy,” the portrait puffed and slung her pink feather boa over her shoulder; it made her look like an inflated bird of paradise. “I’ve guarded this Common Room a lot longer than you are around; these are basically my children!”

Knowing that a fight wouldn’t help her much, Lizzie hung her head and sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” she tried a different approach. “I really just want to apologise to my friend.”

Lizzie pinched the bridge of her nose; this was taking a lot longer than she had anticipated. The sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention; Percy was walking down the corridor towards them, his arms stacked with way more books than what looked comfortable to carry.

“What are you doing here?” he barked at her haughtily; Lizzie had to stifle a laugh at the show the little boy she’d known for ages by now was putting on. He had always been a little bit more stuck up than his brothers, but this new persona he was putting on since coming to Hogwarts certainly wasn’t the most pleasant one.

“Hey Perce,” she greeted him sardonically. “You’ve been to the library?”

“I asked you a question,” Percy insisted. The way he was acting up was too comical for Lizzie not to chuckle; angry red spots appeared on the boy’s pale cheeks.

“This is the Gryffindor Common Room,” he pointed out unnecessarily. “Last time I looked, the Hufflepuff Common Room was down in the dungeons.”

Shaking her head, Lizzie rolled her eyes at Percy. “You don’t say, Percy. Do you know if Charlie’s in there?” She pointed her thumb towards the entrance.

Percy sniffled at being laughed at by her. “No, I don’t know if my brother is in the Common Room.”

Slowly but surely, Lizzie was getting annoyed by the constant delay. “Well, could you go and have a look please?”

“What business do you have with him anyway? I don’t think he wants to talk to you.”

Lizzie crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at Charlie’s younger brother. “Don’t you think that’s best for him to decide?”

Percy opened his mouth to shoot back but got cut off by the familiar figure of Julian Bennett approaching them. The Gryffindor Beater raised his eyebrows at the unusual gathering in front of him.

“Hey, Lizzie,” he greeted her with a pat on the back. “I didn’t expect to see you here; isn’t the pre-match party going down soon?”

Julian’s casual demeanour felt awkward to Lizzie; they hadn’t really talked to each other since her falling out with Charlie, but she was glad for it all the same. It was nice to see a friendly face that was wearing crimson-and-gold for a change.

“Julian, thank Godric you’re here; finally someone with a bit of sense.” Her eyes were shooting daggers at Percy, who shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “I’ve been looking for Charlie for some time now; do you know where he is?”

“What do you want from him?”

“There’s some things I wanted to get out of the way before tomorrow.” She ran her finger along the edge of the letter in her pocket.

Julian nodded. “I see; let me see if I can round him up.”

He turned to the Fat Lady. “Gryphon,” he told her the password, much to the dismay of Percy. But Julian simply ignored his complaints and vanished behind the portrait.

“Was that so hard?” Lizzie couldn’t help but mutter under her breath.

Only a few moments later, the portrait swung aside again and Julian emerged with a scowling Charlie in tow.

Still miffed at the situation, Percy made no move to leave, so Julian simply shoved him back into the Common Room to give Lizzie and Charlie some space.

When they were alone, Charlie looked her up and down dismissively. He raised his chin defiantly. “What do you want?”

Lizzie glanced at the portrait of the Fat Lady, who seemed to be awfully interested in her fingernails all of a sudden. “Could we go someplace more private?”

But Charlie merely crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No,” he brushed her off brusquely. “Listen, I’ve got to prepare for tomorrow; say what you came to say or leave me alone.”

Lizzie tried not to be discouraged by his resentment; she couldn’t even blame him for it. If she were in his place, she probably would have acted the same way.

“Tomorrow is what I want to talk to you about, in a way,” she sighed, inherently hoping he would listen to her apology. “We’ve never faced each other on the pitch while fighting, we were always seeing eye to eye. I don’t want to start this now.”

Charlie’s arms were still crossed but Lizzie could see a bit of tension leave his shoulders; maybe there was a bit of hope to set things right.

“So?”

She drew a deep breath. “I know I acted like a total idiot and I want to apologise; I should never have doubted you and your intentions and it was very wrong of me to lash out at you for trying to cheer me up when I didn’t even tell you how upset I really was. I was hurt and confused and none of this is your fault and for the record, I’d happily play with all of the magical creatures for the rest of our time here with you because without you, it’s not the same.”

The words had stumbled out of her mouth in a quick rush without giving her the opportunity to breathe in between her sentences; she was too afraid to forget something.

After she was done, Charlie just stood there with an unmoving expression on his face. The longer he didn’t say anything, the more scared Lizzie got that he wouldn’t accept her apology.

But then, the smallest of smiles tugged at Charlie’s lips. “Did you rehearse that?”

Lizzie blushed slightly as relief that he didn’t dismiss her right away washed over her. “Maybe,” she admitted sheepishly. “Listen, Charlie, I’m sorry for how I behaved; I miss you. I miss spending time with you, I miss all your random dragon facts you’re throwing at me and I miss you setting my head straight when I need you to. I don’t want to go out and play against you tomorrow when we can’t look each other in the eye.”

Charlie’s freckled features went soft at her admission. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I know you’d never use me or my feelings for your own advantage; it was wrong to assume that.”

He inclined his head. “Thank you for saying that.” He looked at her for a moment, contemplating. “I can’t say what I said was a lie, though. You did change a lot this year. But that’s not what rubbed me the wrong way,” he quickly added as she winced.

“What stung was the fact that you were trying to hide these changes,” he explained. “You didn’t trust me enough to be honest with me.”

“I was scared to tell you because you know me better than anyone else does,” Lizzie replied quietly. “I was afraid you’d call me out and tell me all the stuff I didn’t want to hear.”

“Oh, I certainly would have,” Charlie confirmed matter-of-factly.

“Of course you would have,” Lizzie sighed. “Who knows, maybe the outcome would’ve been better if I had been honest with myself in the first place.”

Charlie shrugged. “Maybe, but we’re not going to find out now. What’s done is done; no use fretting over the past, like my mum always says. But in any case, I’m glad you plucked up the courage to acknowledge your mistakes. Perhaps there’s still more of the old Lizzie in there than I thought after all,” he said with a small grin.

It lessened a little as he continued, “Just don’t lie to me again, please. If you can’t even trust your friends, you’re truly in a really bad place.”

Her eyes were serious as she placed her hand on his forearm. “I promise, no more lies; you can trust me, I’m done running from my problems.”

She reached into the pocket of her jacket and procured the letter she had kept hidden. Smoothing the slightly crinkled envelope for a second, she held it out to Charlie.

“See, I even brought you a present.”

Charlie took it from her with a surprised face. He turned the heavy envelope around, raising one eyebrow as he discovered the logo of the Ministry of Magic printed on the back of it.

“What is that?”

“That,” Lizzie grinned broadly, “is my official offer of peace.”

Charlie looked at her sceptically.

“That was Skye’s idea,” Lizzie added with a shrug. “She thought you’d might give me a chance if I bribed you with something nice.”

Charlie shook his head as he broke the red wax seal. “Just when I thought I’d seen it all… “

His voice trailed off as he started reading the contents of the letter. Eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open, he read the letter two more times.

“Is that… “ he started croaking before clearing his throat. “Is that what I think it is?”

Lizzie tried her best not to look smug but she couldn’t help the wide grin that had appeared on her face watching Charlie read the letter.

“It is,” she confirmed. “Fresh from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It arrived this morning.”

One of the Christmas presents she had gotten from her father this year had been a special one; working for the Ministry, he had gotten wind of an internship place being open with some of the Ministry’s dragonologists; they were supposed to conduct a study on the mating behaviour of Welsh Greens over the summer and were looking for helping hands.

Knowing her interest in Care of Magical Creatures, her father had put her name down without telling her, presenting her with the acceptance letter on Christmas Day.

Lizzie knew she owed her father big time for helping her realise her plan in such a short span of time; he had moved heaven and hell and deployed all of his Ministry contacts to make sure the name on the internship letter had gotten changed.

Charlie was still in a bit of a shock as he looked from the letter to her and back again.

“But this is your internship,” he whispered hoarsely, “you have been talking about this for months. These spots are so rare; are you sure you really want to give it to me?”

Lizzie nodded in confirmation. “Yes, I am. This is my way of saying sorry; and you deserve this spot a thousand times more than I do.” The way she smiled at him was uncharacteristically shy for her somehow. “Besides, after the career advice session I’m not sure I want to go down the magizoologist route anyway.”

“You don’t?”

A blush spread on Lizzie’s face; admitting her career plans out loud for the first time sounded foolish to her ears. “I thought, I might perhaps want to try going for a professional Quidditch career.” She strongly hoped Charlie wouldn’t laugh.

But he only winked at her with an encouraging grin. “As far as I can say, you’d definitely have what it takes, chipmunk.”

As he heard the stupid little nickname leaves his mouth, Lizzie’s mouth curved into a brilliant, hopeful smile. “So you officially accept my apology?”

He waved the letter in her face. “You bet I do. I might even take you out for dinner now.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, making Lizzie giggle.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I found this amazing new place the other day. It’s called ‘The Great Hall’; it’s usually a bit crowded this time of the day, but I hear they have amazing sandwiches.”

Lizzie felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders as they both started laughing at the same time. All the resentment that had been brewing between them had vanished in an instant and it just felt normal again; it was the best feeling Lizzie could have imagined.

“Do I get a hug now, or what?” Charlie laughed and opened his arms for her.

Without hesitation, Lizzie stepped into them and let herself be enveloped by one of Charlie’s bear hugs she had missed so much.

“Good to have you back,” he whispered against her hair, making her smile broaden until her cheeks hurt.

“Aw, look at the two of you,” the dreamy voice of the Fat Lady, they had completely forgotten about, suddenly broke the atmosphere. “Young love, finally reunited again.”

Charlie let go of Lizzie and they both stared at her reproachfully. “We’re only friends!” they spoke out in perfect unison. Sharing another glance, they both exploded with laughter. Lizzie would say this sentence a thousand times and more if it only meant she had her friend back at her side.

The traces of laughter still hanging onto his face, Charlie stepped towards her and offered her his arm like a gentleman would to his lady; still chuckling, Lizzie took it.

“Now, milady, let’s go get some food.”

The Great Hall was already packed with students when they arrived. Lizzie’s arm was still linked with Charlie’s as they were laughing and joking with each like nothing had happened. She could have let go of him, of course, but she just enjoyed being back in his company way too much.

As they entered the Great Hall side by side, Lizzie didn’t fail to notice the whispers and sideways glances they were drawing from several of their peers. Although the rumours had stopped when the frosty atmosphere between them had become public knowledge, they hadn’t been set right either.

But Lizzie chose to ignore the raised eyebrows and scowls directed at them this time around; she straightened her back subconsciously as they walked through the space between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables and let it all wash over her. She was done bothering with what people who didn’t even really know her would think; the ones she cared for knew the truth and that was all that matters. She had been worrying about other people’s opinions far too much these last few weeks.

When they reached where the rest of the Gryffindor team was sitting, Charlie sat down with them, gesturing for her to join them, but Lizzie declined the offer. She was glad their fight was over, but she didn’t want to push her luck; sitting with the players of the opposing team on the evening before the match maybe would have been a bit too much.

“Alright,” he shrugged as he sat down in between his team mates. “See you tomorrow on the pitch then.”

Lizzie smiled broadly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Let’s see if you still think so after I’ve caught the snitch,” Charlie smirked. “But don’t worry, you can have it afterwards, as a consolation prize.”

The other Gryffindors snickered as Lizzie raised her chin defiantly. “Careful Weasley, pride comes before the fall.” But her eyes were sparkling in anticipation of the challenge.

Leaving the Gryffindor table behind, she walked over to her own House Table. She had seen Penny and Rowan sitting a bit further ahead; Lizzie hadn’t really sat with them during dinner in the last couple of days, especially not without Skye joining them, but her dark haired friend was nowhere to be seen.

Walking up to the two girls, her eyes drifted to the head of the table where Orion was sitting with McNully. She had seen him watching her when she’d entered the Great Hall with Charlie; she knew the fluttery feeling inside her stomach didn’t solely come from the anticipation of tomorrow’s match.

He and Murphy were undoubtedly discussing the last details for tomorrow, but as their eyes met for a split second, Lizzie offered him a small smile. It was gone almost too quickly to see, but she knew he’d caught it by the way the corners of his own mouth curved slightly upwards. He gave her the hint of an acknowledging nod before he turned his attention back on his and Murphy’s tactical discussion.

Lizzie was glad he had encouraged her to make amends with her friends; not only because she wanted them back, but also because it made her feel closer to him again.

She braced herself for the next part; Charlie was done, so now onto the next.

Approaching Rowan and Penny, Lizzie put on a markedly cheerful smile, trying to mask the touch of apprehensiveness she felt at her next task. “May I sit with you?”

Rowan just looked at her silently, her eyes unreadable behind her glasses.

Penny however, immediately moved over to make room for her on the bench. “Sure, go ahead,” she beamed up at her. Inwardly, Lizzie sighed thankfully; at least Penny seemed to be as eager to return to their normal state before the year was done than she was.

“We were just discussing if we might need something else for the pre-match party later,” she explained, pointing to a checklist spread out between their plates. “You’re coming, aren’t you?” she asked somewhat hopefully.

“Of course I am,” Lizzie smiled in return. “I’ve never missed one so far, have I?”

In truth, nothing was further from her mind than attending a party right now; the thought about being in a crowd that was working itself up in their excitement for the season finale made her stomach churn. But in a way, popping in to the pre-match parties had somehow become part of her own pre-match ritual; Lizzie wasn’t really superstitious, but figured this maybe wasn’t the best time to meddle with established routines.

Trying to take her mind off the prospect of the party, she poured herself some pumpkin juice. “Sounds like you’re excited for tomorrow.”

“You bet!” Penny beamed at her. “I can’t wait for the match to start! Hufflepuff is playing for the Cup the second year in a row, it’s time to bring it back where it belongs. Gryffindor is a really tough opponent, though; it will be a tough match, but you’ve trained so hard, I’m sure you’ll come out on top…”

When Penny noticed her rambling, she blushed slightly and shut up. Lizzie watched Rowan from across the table; she had been remarkably silent since Lizzie had joined them.

“What about you, Rowan?” Lizzie asked quietly.

Rowan quickly looked up from her dinner. “What about me?”

“You’re coming to the match, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know yet,” Rowan mumbled evasively, pushing her food around her plate while avoiding Lizzie’s eyes. “The O.W.L.s are so close now and I’ve still got so much more to study and revise.”

But both of them knew, this was only partly true. The two of them had lived in some sort of tentative truce the last couple of weeks, each keeping her distance from the other in a way. But the Quidditch pitch was Lizzie’s terrain; Rowan coming along would be a step back into a normality that Lizzie wasn’t sure they would achieve again; but she sure was hoping so.

“Listen,” she sighed. “I know it’s been weird between us ever since… you know.” Lizzie was struggling for words; she just couldn’t bring herself to actually ‘you caught me and Orion making out’ out loud. It was a thought she’d probably never get used to.

“What I want to say is, it would mean a great deal to me if I knew you’d be there tomorrow. You never missed a single match, you were always there to cheer me on.” She offered Rowan a weak smile. “I’m only half as good without you.”

To her surprise, for the first time in ages, Rowan smiled back at her. “That’s nonsense and you know it; you’ll be brilliant no matter who is watching.”

Lizzie grimaced, but secretly, Rowan’s kind words felt like balm for her soul. “Please don’t try to prove me wrong by not coming.”

“Alright, I’ll be there. But be damned if Gryffindor wins and my precious study turns out to be wasted,” she added with a joking threat.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you down!” A wide, relieved grin spread on Lizzie’s face; she instantly felt a lot lighter. “Skye and I have been practising some new moves, the lions have no chance at all.”

“Where’s Skye anyway?” Penny now piped up. “I haven’t seen her for some time now; I thought she was with you.”

Lizzie’s brow furrowed. “No, I haven’t seen her since class, why?”

“She got a letter earlier and seemed really rattled while reading it. She went all pale and ran off before I had a chance to ask what’s wrong; no one has seen her since.”

Lizzie didn’t like the sound of that at all. She was nervous enough as it was herself, Skye freaking out at the last minute was the last thing they needed. If she had been missing for quite some time now, there was no way to tell if she had worked herself into one of her states again and Lizzie had the very distinct feeling she should go and check on her friend immediately.

Luckily, she had a very good idea on exactly where to find her.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #charlie weasley #lizzie jameson #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad #it's the homestretch everybody!!!!#we're slowly wrapping things up #feels so weird though :(#not that much longer to go #sad or happy?#both I guess

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Text

Qui Totum Vult Toum Perdit (d.s.) - 7

A/N Guilty or generous

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

One thing my parents always taught us while we were growing up was, when traveling, to never stay at the cheapest hotel. By no means should we break the bank to stay at a five-star resort but there was usually nothing good that came out of the cheapest option. I could see what they meant as Jonah and I climbed the metal stairs of the Lincoln Motel, the white paint peeling from the handrails and the steps creaking with each footfall. Once having been on the cover of Forbes, I no longer really needed to follow that guidance that my parents engrained in us since I could afford all the five-star hotels and resorts I so desired to stay at.

I mean, to be brutally fair, dear reader, my parents also taught us not to murder our spouses; so who knew how many lessons of theirs I had ignored in my lifetime.

I triple checked that my car was locked as we reached the top of the flight of stairs and headed down the carpeted outdoor hallway. Anyone who uses carpet outside should honestly not be trusted. This place already left a bad feeling in my stomach. Would saying it gave me murder house Psycho vibes be in poor taste? Possibly? Then please disregard that statement.

Number nineteen was right in the middle of the hallway. The brass number nine was set slightly crooked on the door. I caught myself tilting my head with its direction as if I were trying to stall. I swear if the person on the other side of the door slept with my wife I…I didn’t know what I would do but the thought of it made me sick.

“Are you going to knock?” Jonah tore me from my thoughts.

I swallowed thickly, “Yeah.”

I raised my fist to the orange painted door and rapped a quick knock before taking a little step back. I habitually glanced over the railing to make sure no one was getting too close to my car.

The sound of the door creaking open had me turning back quickly to see who was on the other side. I expected a man and that’s who I was met with, simply the first glance of him making my jaw clench protectively.

He was short. Brown hair. Brown eyes. His patterned button up was undone halfway. Arms and neck littered in random tattoos. I eyed him up for a moment.

“Can I help you?” he asked, an obvious confused edge to his voice.

“Yeah, do you know an Avalon Seavey?” I pushed back at him strongly. I couldn’t help but straighten up around him just to have those few inches above him.

“Avalon? Yeah, I know her enough. Why?” he looked between Jonah and me.

I took off my sunglasses and tucked them in the collar of my shirt to see him better in the shadow of the motel balcony.

“I’m her husband.”

“Daniel.” he breathed with realization, his eyebrows raising as he stared at me.

“Yeah. Daniel. Who are you?” I asked sharply.

Jonah didn’t intervene through my anger, in fact, he looked just as concerned as I felt. I appreciated his willingness to let me have my moment to interrogate this guy.

“I’m Jack. How did you find me here?”

“I found your address in her phone.” I added.

“Oh, what a nice non-toxic relationship you have.” Jack mumbled.

“Excuse me?” I took a quick step towards him but Jonah grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

“I was not sleeping with your wife if that’s what you’re here getting all macho protective douche-bag about.” Jack assured me coolly. “We had nothing more than a professional relationship.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, staring at Jack’s unimpressed flat expression. He didn’t seem to be one to be phased by anything.

“Professional over what?” I pressed.

“Does Avalon know you’re here?” he ignored my question while he peeked around me as if to see her down the hallway or in the parking lot below.

I didn’t flinch as he looked around me. Little did he know that she was in fact right there with us.

“She’s dead.” Jonah answered.

I hadn’t realized I hadn’t replied to him for a few too many seconds but Jonah’s blunt response certainly brought be back to reality. I snapped my head towards him. Since when did we agree we were going to be telling people that?

“Oh.” Jack said flatly. “That sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah…well…I wanted to see who you were…so…” I stumbled out ungracefully, rubbing the back of my neck anxiously with one hand. I dropped it with a sigh to my side again, “We’ll be going.”

“Hang on. Come in for a second.” Jack offered, stepping to the side and pushed the door open wider to let us on. “I gotta show you something.”

Jonah and I glanced at each other briefly before silently deciding to follow him into the motel room. I peeked over my shoulder to my car down in the lot once more before stepping over the threshold.

Jack seemed to sense my hesitation as he closed the door behind us, “I won’t keep you long. A nice car like that won’t last long around here unsupervised.”

I swallowed thickly, watching him walk across the messy motel room to the closet. Jonah and I stood just inside the door and the first thing I noticed was the bright teal wallpaper that even covered the ceiling, so bright and neon it was nearly blinding and it did not match the dark red floral print carpet at all. The bed had red bedsheets and a dark mahogany headboard that was more 1960s mirror panel than wood and beside it sat a single small round table with a fold out chair and a rotary phone on top. The bathroom sink and light oak vanity was outside of the bathroom in the main room which right away was another turn off to this already run-down place. I was no decorator, dear reader, but the sight of this motel room was nearly nauseating. And that’s said by someone who had a dead body stashed in their car trunk.

As Jack shuffled through the bi-fold closet for whatever he was looking for, I took a moment to take in my surroundings for more than just the initial shock of colour and pattern vomit that filled the place. The neon 80s themed picture above the bed was of the New York skyline which was strange since we were in Los Angeles, and the fact that there were two more mahogany framed mirrors along the other walls was unsettling. I tried not to meet my own reflection.

Jack had a suitcase laid out beside the mahogany dresser and it was tossed open and clothes were haphazardly thrown about it but the suitcase wasn’t the only spot for fabrics as every other available surface – including the small table in the corner – housed various piles of fabric scraps and scissors and pins and needles. The worst of it was the few bare mannequins laying under the window adjacent to the door.

“So…” I started slowly, turning back to Jack whose back was still turned to us, “How did you know my wife?”

“My business.” Jack answered. He pulled a jacket on a hanger from the back of the closet and dropped it on the table right on top of all the scraps and pins and mess. He grabbed one of the many pairs of scissors that were scattered around and snipped a few things that I couldn’t see from where we stood.

His dry answers to our questions had Jonah and I more suspicious as the time went past but we waited to give the guy the benefit of the doubt.

Jack finally turned around with a small smile and picked up the hanger to turn and face the black denim jacket towards us, “I’m a bit of a fashion designer I guess you can say and Avalon found my page on Instagram a few months back and she got in touch with me about making you a custom jacket.”

I didn’t know what to say. In all the words I could use, perfect was the only one that came to my mind as I stared at the jacket in his hand. Someone might see it as a mess of things but it was just my taste; chaos enough to pass as designer even. It housed red x’s painted over the right shoulder and a single white stripe down the left side that matched my surname on the bottom right front panel. He made sure to show each of the denim sleeves, cuffed at the bottom in black and red plaid and the left wrist had ‘honey’ printed in small white font – the nickname I always called her. The other sleeve had matching vertical white font spelling out ‘Only the Beginning’ which was the name of Jonah and my very own record company; the company that always caused the most hostility between Avalon and me. Jack finally turned the jacket around to show the back, the shoulder section sewn over with a lace that looked a hell of a lot like Avalon’s wedding dress and I found myself stunned into shocked silence. It was incredible.

I walked into that motel with no hopes of any sort but what I seemed to find amidst those disgusting teal walls was better than I ever could have expected.

I took a step forward to take the jacket from him, grazing the sleeve ever so gently with my fingers as if it were going to break under my touch. Jack passed it over and helped me slide it on to make sure it fit. He brushed his hands over my shoulders and down my back to smooth it out and directed me to one of the many mirrors that were glued to the motel wall.

“That jacket is fresh.” Jonah said.

“It’s…gorgeous.” I agreed softly, turning slightly to see the back in the mirror.

Jack spoke next as he watched me admire his work, “She worked me into the ground for this one. I kept having to restart because she kept saying it wasn’t perfect enough…I lost a fuck ton of materials and money through that…ended up getting evicted from my place because I wasn’t earning money to pay rent which is why I’m living in this shithole now but…she was adamant. Said it had to be perfect for you. We were going to meet up one last time once you two got back from your trip but…” he faded out with a sigh.

I turned to him, “You were evicted?”

“Oh,” Jack shrugged as if it was no big deal and sat down on the end of the bed, “Yeah. She said she couldn’t pay me right away and I assured her it was no big deal but then when money got tight I felt badly to ask for an advance. She was my only client, ya know? She worked me hard enough anyway to pass as my only customer but…with no pay…landlord ended up kicking me out and this was the cheapest place in the whole county. It’s such an absolute fucking dump here that my daughter isn’t allowed to come visit me until I get back on my feet…court said something about unfit living situations or some bullshit. Not like my ex needs anymore reasons to talk shit.”

“Shit…bro…I’m sorry.” I breathed.

“What can ya do?” Jack shrugged, sucking his teeth with a shake of his head. He stood up from the end of the bed, offering a dry, “She’s dead now anyway so…”

I turned to Jonah who gave me a look as if to just get out of there but I looked back in the mirror at the jacket I wore.

Goddammit.

I spoke to Jack through the mirror, “Do you take PayPal?”

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @tempus-ut-luceant @br4nd1s @xkelsev @hiya-its-amber @sexyseavey15

#🔪#daniel seavey #why dont we #jonah marais #jack avery #zach herron #daniel seavey fanfic #why dont we fanfic

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justanotherlifeff · 4 years

Note

may i request todoroki shouto with a breeding kink? maybe endeavour kept forcing shoto to marry someone else then he just goes down on her after the argument?

Marry me

Warning:NSFW, Smut, breeding kink, kinky stuff

"I'm not marrying her and that's my final answer. This discussion is over." Shouto stated to his fuming father with a stoic expression while his eyes gave away his wrath. Shouto had been dating you for the last few years ever since you joined as a manager at his agency. Your quirk, memory, which allowed you to remember every single detail on every single thing you've witnessed in your entire life, was not suited for hero work. Instead, you were in the business department at UA, an year after Shouto graduated. Shouto was getting close to his thirties and Endeavour was planning to get Shouto to his old classmate and friend, Yaoyorozu Momo. Her quirk was strong and she was from a powerful family which, in Endeavour's opinion made her a good match for Shouto. Which is why, when Shouto mentioned that he was planning to propose to you, Endeavour tried to convince him to marry Momo and obviously, that ended with Shouto walking out on him, rejecting his plans.

To Shouto, you were the embodiment of perfection. Before you came into his life, he had no idea on how to deal with people or emotions in general. He was a confused young man thrown into a world where everyone expected him to act a certain way which he didn't understand. Why did he have to smile at the women who somehow fainted after seeing him? Shouldn’t he be away from them instead if they were getting sick because of him? Why can't he be completely honest about exactly how he felt about random heroes during interview? Was it too wrong to call someone out on being rude when they are rude? Why did Bakugou reject the idea of them being friends? Didn't they spend three years together in UA? In conclusion, Todoroki Shouto was in desperate need of a manager when he first started his hero career. And hell it was difficult to manage him. He had no basic idea on how human emotions work and took everything in an extremely straight forward manner which led to his managers getting tired of him and resigning. That was until you arrived into his office and changed everything. You taught him how people feel things and never lost patience. He finally knows why Bakugou doesn't see him as a friend.

Anyway, the point was that you were always there for him. At one point, he fell in love with you and now that he wanted to marry you, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let his father ruin this for him. Your small apartment was like a safe haven to him whenever he wanted to be away from his family home. Sure, he owned a penthouse of his own but he prefered not to live alone. Now that his mother finally moved back in the family home, he was partially content with living there as well. You already rejected his invitation on moving in with him in his penthouse because you didn't want to feel like a gold digger which meant that the family home was a better option for him anyway with the exception of his rare fights with his father. However, you never pushed him away whenever these fights happened and he just wanted to be at your arms. Which is why, he found himself on your doorstep, pushing the calling bell, waiting for you to open the door.

Just as you opened the door, he lost all control. Could you blame him though? Your messy hair, oversized T shirt which you stole from him, bare legs, it all enticed him so bad that he couldn't help it. As usual, you let him do his thing. Whenever he showed up without a warning, it always meant that something went wrong and he wanted to take his mind off things. Who were you to deny him of some peace? Like always, he explained everything inbetween kisses while you messily closed the door to your apartment, not willing to give the neighbours a show. "The old man wanted to get me married to Yaoyorozu... Can you fucking believe it? As if I'm gonna marry anyone but you..." Shouto growled angrily. He rarely ever used swear words and even more rarely ever got angry. However, you understood why he felt this way. You were angry as well. No one gets to take him away from you, not even his dad.

"Sho..." you muttered between the kisses, trying to find words to comfort him, however, he stopped you, looked into your eyes and stated, "Marry me, (Y/N). I wanted to ask you in a better setting but I don't want to wait anymore.". Your eyes widened at his sudden proposal but you pulled yourself together and whispered, "Yes Shouto... We can do it whenever you want..." as happy tears left your eyes. A small smile formed on Shouto's face as he pressed his lips against yours once more, picking you up and walking towards your bedroom. He already had your home memorized like the back of his hand, which is why, you found yourself on your bed in a matter of moments. Your clothes were expertly taken off before he took his own clothes off. He was being hastier than usual but you wanted him all over you as soon as possible. "You look as beautiful as usual, (Y/N). I can't explain how you make me feel but I really want to let the world that you're mine as soon as possible." he whispered to you as he cupped your cheek as he pinned you to the bed before moving downwards to face your groins. Using one of his hands to spread your pussy, he took some time to admire the pinkness of your dripping pussy before pressing his lips on you, eating you out like a starved man.

Needy moans escaped your mouth as you fisted his mismatched hair while he let his tongue dive into you working magic, making you crave for more. When he went up to suck your clit, using his tongue to massage it, you couldn’t control your orgasm any longer. A strangled moan escaped your mouth as you came on his face, making him smirk at the way you came undone. Deciding that he was done eating you out, he pressed his lips against yours once again as he pinned you to the bed, all while entering your quivering cunt without any warning. The sudden invasion made you yelp against his lips. After giving you some time to adjust to his massive length, Shouto started pumping into you, starting slow and steady and picking up his pace with time. Your hands latched itself to his shoulder, your nails scratching him, leaving marks. He never minded, however since the little marks that you left on him was a symbol to the fact that he brought you to heaven and back every day.

"So beautiful... So perfect.... All mine..." Shouto panted as he was getting closer to his orgasm while he pounded into you. Your moans echoed in the bedroom and surprising him, you moaned out, "C-cum in me Sho! Make me yours! Wanna make you a dad pleeease...!". His eyes widened at your lewd words and suddenly, he wanted to fill you up. He could picture your stomach round with his kids. Damn that would make you so much more perfect. Endeavour can go to hell cause you're gonna have his kids and it's fucking decided already. "Fuck... I'll fill you up baby... I need to see your stomach bulge with my kids... You'll look so beautiful... So perfect... All mine... Shit!!!" Shouto hissed as he buried his head to the crook of your neck, chasing his orgasm. His deadly pace made you come undone around him for the second time as you moaned uncontrollably and he filled you up with his release as promised not too long after.

Now that you were panting and lying down while your boyfriend, now fiance, went to the washroom to get a washcloth to clean the mess he left inside you out, you were still trying to process everything that happened. Shouto, the number 3 hero wants to marry you and somehow, he probably wants to have kids with you too. He wasn’t the one to say random things due to being horny. No, he always meant everything that got out of his mouth. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as he wiped the cum oozing from between your legs. While the sight of you made him want to fuck you into oblivion yet again, thanks to his newfound desire to fill you with his cum, he knew that he needed to have a serious conversation with you.

"(Y/N), let's get married tommorow."

"SHOUTO YOU CAN'T MARRY SOMEONE A DAY AFTER ASKING THEM TO!"

"Why not? I want to get you pregnant."

"... Fine... You gotta invite our friends right now and buy me a wedding dress cause I'm broke.."

"I'll use Endeavour's credit card."

[Author's note: Alright so I'm kinda back? I still have quite a lot of personal issues to deal with but yeah I'll try to get my asks done asap.]

#todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #todoroki × reader #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto smut #mha shouto #shouto × reader #shouto x reader

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syms-things-5 · 3 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Seventeen

Previous Chapter Here

Warnings: Strong language and an air of discomfort.

Notes: I hope this reads OK as it’s quite dialogue-heavy.

Tags: @kelbabyblue @jennmurawski13

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The night shifts weren’t all bad. From time to time, they were even as good as “pretty straight forward”. They proved especially useful when trying to finish patient notes and random admin that always got left to the very end of the shift. Perhaps they’d endure a tidy-out of the stock cupboards if the crew was feeling generous. Since O’Brien had taken up his post at the hospital years earlier, he had insisted upon mandatory training updates for the ER units every three to four months (the national average was about once a year) so the team were regularly reminded not to set fire to their computers and not to leave boxes in places people could trip over. You’d be surprised how often both those things happened in an emerging crisis.

“I swear he thinks we’re idiots half the time.” Complained Jack, his head now glued to the palm of his hand. Jack was hurtling towards an early retirement thanks to an ever-increasing distrust of the corporate environment ER departments found themselves in. We trained to save lives, he’d say, not file stat reports. He was so right, it hurt.

The crew was sat round the reception desk. The ER was empty except for a local homeless man the team allowed in from time to time to sleep off his latest drunken adventures.

“Who doesn’t know how to bend their knees when lifting something heavy?” Jack asked again.

“Ryan for one.” Sarah joked, pointing her cold cup of tea towards the fellow nurse in question. Ryan was a tall and skinny guy, not dissimilar to Alexander Skarsgard in the right light but with less charm although he had left a few of the interns swooning of late. Shanna quite liked him, too.

“One time, Sarah. One time and I suffered for it greatly.” Ryan remarked, spinning a full 360 in his swivel chair. “Did you tick ‘agree’ or ‘strongly agree’ for question eleven?”

“Oh, if you don’t tick ‘strongly agree’ even if you only ‘agree’, they mark you down a couple of percentage points.” Entered Audrey, slamming down a pile of files on the desk beside Sarah. Their nightly routine just got more interesting. “Just get it over with. It’s not worth the effort. It’s just O’Brien being obsessed with stats again. He turns everything into a competition. I swear it’s unhealthy.”

Ryan looked momentarily confused before returning to face his computer screen. He re-read the question for the fifth time and rubbed his eyes in resignation. Something about 3am made this far too complicated.

“When did you even find time to do this, Aud?” Jack asked, turning back to Sarah and Audrey in time to witness their shared look self-satisfaction. “I’ve been sat here for half an hour and am still only part way through the first section.”

“I logged in at home earlier.” she responded before catching Sarah’s quizzical look. “Well, Michael did most of it for me.”

“Fucking hell!” exclaimed Jack, chucking his pen on the table, giving up. “Got no chance then, have I? Michael’s a bloody genius. Hey, how much for him to do mine?”

“Normally I’d say $100 but he’s pretty cheap these days.” shrugged Audrey. “Probably a fancy cigar would do.”

“He still grumpy about the you-know-what?” whispered Sarah to her friend when the guys started joshing between themselves.

Audrey leaned back on the desk beside her and took the mug from Sarah’s hands to take a sip, grimacing slightly at the sweetness. For some reason, Sarah had to have at least three sugars in her tea if she was drinking it post-midnight. It helped to keep her more alert apparently. She didn’t drink it like that at any other time of the day. “No more than usual. Seems like we’re both unlucky in that department at the moment.”

Sarah smiled at her in acknowledgement, lips thin before biting the inside of her cheek.

Following their last meet-up, Chris had been decidedly quiet. Too quiet almost. It was weird. He hadn’t messaged her. He hadn’t called or visited their apartment except to collect a parcel he had left. Sarah has been out for a run at the time and had felt silently glad to have missed him. He hadn’t updated his twitter and there had been multiple sports events occurring that would have guaranteed a humblebrag or five. Shanna had pledged to buy rib-eye steaks for a Saturday night meal during a Celtics game and he had cancelled at the last minute citing an interview he had conveniently forgotten. Even Audrey thought it was weird. If anything was guaranteed to get his attention and bring him out of whatever funk he was in, it was the promise of sports and a ‘Grade A’ barbeque.

Shanna merely put it down to his laziness or him having something better turn up. Scott had started replacing Chris around their apartment, wanting to get some of his own distance from the tricky Zach situation and it helped her feel better knowing he was at least in touch with him if Shanna wasn’t. He was evidently still alive.

Sarah decided to swap a couple of daytime stints to partner up with Audrey for the nights. She needed the comfort of working with a good friend to calm her down from whatever ledge her anxiety had placed her on.

“You know that he’ll come back, right?” Audrey interrupted her thoughts. Maybe Sarah spoke too soon. “Haven’t you got that birthday thing for Lisa coming up?”

That trip was a couple of weeks away yet. She was trying to bank some reasonable excuses but everything sounded lame in the cold light of day and Lisa was never going to accept her not coming as well. Surely things would have smoothed themselves out by then?

“This won’t just fix itself, hun, you’ll need to speak to him eventually. And the sooner the better.”

It was like Audrey had a hotline straight into Sarah’s psyche. It was unnerving at the best of times. Sarah knew she was right of course. It’s just, a little bit of distance would be a good thing, right? Even Chris himself had offered that advice from time to time, and stressing herself out at this point almost seemed counterintuitive.

“I reckon you could go in an hour or so if you wanted.” Audrey offered, nudging her friend with her elbow to bring her back into the room. “It’s dead out there.”

“I hope not.” Sarah joked, trying to lighten the mood. “We’d be shit at our jobs if that was the case.”

Audrey laughed for the first time since Sarah could remember that day. It was moments like this that reminded her of why she enjoyed working alongside her so much, and why she didn’t mind if it resulted in overtime.

“You wanna take patient referrals while I take the EPRs?”

“How can I refuse an offer like that?” Sarah picked up the dozen or so documents sat in front of her and grabbed the nearest chair. Audrey told her she’d put the kettle on and nudged the guys still glued to their screens. Ryan had pretty much given up logical thinking and was now ticking random boxes. Jack was cursing under his breath. O’Brien was going to be in for a real treat when he could finally tabulate the responses.

It was nearing 6.20am when Sarah and Audrey finally packed up to go. Matt and Stephanie had just arrived to take over for the morning, bringing a fresh perspective for the day. There wasn’t much for them to catch up on so it should be a smooth few hours at least. Sarah even ran a mop through the staff locker room as an added gift – Steph was a notorious clean freak – nearly tripping Greg up in the process.

He’d been on leave for the past fortnight and his hair was a little longer than she remembered. A five o’clock shadow graced the lower part of his face and it suited him more than she thought it would. He had kept up with the informal tie-less attire and he seemed to be, dare she it, enjoying himself.

“God, I’m so sorry.” She held her hands up in a mock mea culpa. “I was just gonna put it away before heading out. It was a stupid place to leave it.”

“Did you not take the Health and Safety refresher?” he joked, rebalancing himself and trying to play down the redness creeping into his cheeks from the embarrassment of temporarily losing his footing in front of her.

“You gonna rat me out to O’Brien? ‘Cos you know as well as I do that he doesn’t need yet another reason to know he’s right.” She shifted the mop and bucket and placed them back in the supply closet before reaching for her bag again.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He moved passed her before turning to face her again. “Tell you the truth, I ghosted the last couple of tabs myself. Who knew there were so many ways to ask questions about standing in elevators?”

Sarah rolled her eyes in acknowledgement. “Yeh. I can’t wait to have the team meeting when he realises we’ve all pretty much done the same thing. That’s gonna be fun. I might finally take some of my holiday.”

“Yeh, good plan. Hey listen,” His words stopped her in her tracks, feet from the exit. “Um, I know it’s been a while but I was wondering if you might want to reschedule that tennis match some time? Or if not, we could get some dinner or something? There’s that new sushi place on Reagan Street. It’s meant to be really good if you fancy it?”

She was indeed familiar with that very restaurant thanks to the glowing reviews she had been unable to avoid since it opened. Audrey had only mentioned it a mere thousand times in her presence. Word was that bookings were now months in advance so she wasn’t sure how Greg was hoping to find a table unless he wanted to make plans with her in November. Given the number of commitments he always appeared to have going on, it wouldn’t be completely outside the realm of possibility.

“Wow, I thought that place was fully booked?”

“Yeh, it is, but I went to college with one of the investors and he’s promised me a one-off.”

Of course he did. Sarah bit her bottom lip to stop herself from chuckling out loud, imagining Audrey’s face when she would inevitably find out. To be honest, she was genuinely surprised he was still showing a minor interest in her. When she finally made eye contact with him, his earnestness was practically shining. Had he always had perfect skin?

“Um…” That was a good start, she thought.

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal if you’d rather not.” He helpfully pre-empted her awkward rejection but she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “I’ve been meaning to go is all and I knew you liked sushi and figured it might be fun? They have live Jazz on Sunday nights.”

When did he find out she liked sushi? And live Jazz? Just how much had Audrey told him about her?

Realising she probably looked perplexed, she shuffled her shoulder strap back up onto her shoulder and tried to relax the awkwardness setting in between them. It was still quiet and no one was within earshot that she could figure out of her peripheral vision.

“It’s not you, Greg, I promise. It’s just, I’m not really looking to get into anything right now. With anyone. Plus, we work together and…I’m sorry. I hope that’s OK?”

“Hey, look, I promise it won’t be awkward. There’s absolutely no expectations from me and if you change your mind, just let me know, yeh? I literally know no one else who likes Sashimi so I can’t waste my only chance to get a table.” He chuckled and she felt more at ease.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m a pretty crap date.” She smiled at him as she edged herself down the hall, putting space between them both literally and figuratively. “You wouldn’t be missing out.”

“Oh, I doubt that somehow.” He returned her smile. “I’m serious, though. Just let me know. Anytime. No expiration date.”

And with that, she had been left dumbfounded by two men in the space of a single week.

It would have been easier to get the early morning bus home at this time, as tired as she was starting to feel. She hadn’t slept well in the last few days and she had a creeping nausea from the lack of proper rest. The walk and crisp, fresh air might do her some good. It was practically full daylight even at this hour, and it was sometimes fun to watch people on their own way to work, huffing along, trying not to drop their coffees.

The out-of-town school bus passed her a few minutes out from her apartment and as she rounded the corner, she got this weird sense that someone was watching her. Another corner turned and she could see her building in the near distance. Still, she couldn’t shake it. She stopped, pretending to fumble for her phone in her pocket and turned around swiftly to see a sweaty Chris stop a few steps behind her.

It took her a moment to register it was in fact him, his beard fuller and a Red Sox cap pulled down low over his eyes. He had sweats and sneakers on and looked like he was on a run. Honestly, if someone else had spotted him from this distance, they would have worried he was going to attack her.

“Hey,” she said, turning to fully face him. “What are you doing out at this time?”

He didn’t respond at first. He shuffled from one foot to the other before grounding himself and taking a couple of steps towards her. Again, he shuffled back a step like he was rethinking his move. She didn’t appreciate seeing him like this, so unsure of himself.

“Five months out from filming some pre-shoots so figured I’d make a start.” He finally spoke. Not a really a smile but he at least sounded OK.

“Cool.” She said, nodding back at him. “Um, I’m not sure if Shanna is awake yet but do you want to come inside for some water or coffee?”

“Yeh, that’d be great. Thanks.”

She turned to continue walking on. For a few long moments, he stayed walking slightly behind her. A couple more strides and he had decided to catch up. The last time it had taken this long to walk this same street, she had been so drunk she had narrowly avoided falling into her neighbour’s front garden.

“Five months? You’re not that out of shape.” She tried to make a joke. It was the only thing she could think of. Audrey would be eye-rolling like a champ if she could see them now.

Chris knew she was trying to make small talk now so he decided to indulge her. It was a fair response, he thought - he was doing OK - as he followed her up the stairs deliberately keeping two or three behind her in an effort to keep it casual.

“Oh, y’know. I fluctuate pretty easily. A few pizzas here and there and it’s game over.”

They walked into her kitchen and she had been right in assuming Shanna was still asleep. Unless she had awoken really early but that was highly unlikely, unless there was a sale at Ted Baker she didn’t know about.

He lingered in the doorway while she searched the fridge for a bottle of water. Grabbing one from the back, she turned to hand it to him expecting him to be within an arm’s reach from her but he had been distracted by something down the hall before turning back to her. Gratefully, he accepted it and walked into the kitchen to take up his usual spot leaning against the counter.

“Sorry, did you say you wanted a coffee?” She offered.

“Nah, I’m good. Can’t really take caffeine until this afternoon.”

“Sorry. I always forget how strict it is.” She apologised, offering him a sympathetic smile.

He took a long swig from the bottle, not breaking eye contact from her. “No need to apologise. You OK? Night shift?”

“Yeh. Pretty quiet, thankfully.”

“I’ve always meant to ask but what is it like, a night shift? I can’t work out if it would be worse or not.”

She understood what he meant and laughed. “It can go either way to be honest but it’s been quiet the last few nights. Nothing crazy. I caught up with some paperwork, so…” She shrugged again, acutely aware of how boring she must sound.

He nodded at her. “Aren’t people supposed to be crazier in the summertime?”

“Well, kids are around more and families tend to spend more time together, so…”

The apartment was unnervingly quiet now which was weird. She could hear the uptake in traffic outside which provided some relief that perhaps he couldn’t hear her heart beating out of her chest. She could make out some small sweat patches on his hoodie and it did something to her that she wasn’t expecting. Shaking the thought from her head, she turned to switch the kettle off.

“What?” He asked.

She jerked her head back around to face him. “Huh?”

“You were thinking of something. Your neck just went red.” He smiled, tilting his head at her and relishing the look of surprise making its way over her features, knowing he’d caught her out.

That was news to her. She knew she had “tells” but a red neck was not usually one of them. How come no one had ever told her about this?

“I can’t tell if you’re joking with me or not.” She inquired, playfully narrowing her eyes at him in an effort to lighten the mood.

He shrugged a shoulder at her, a smirk starting to cross his fine features. Joshing with her was good. She’d take that. A small step in the right direction.

“Sometimes, it’s really obvious. You get it when you’re embarrassed about something, or when you try to lie. I’d never really noticed it before, but...” He paused. His expression started to turn more thoughtful and she wished he’d just continue to make fun of her instead.

“Guess I won’t be playing poker anytime soon.” She finished the thought for him.

“Yeh, no, you’d be rubbish at that. Just terrible.” He took another swig from his bottle and waited for her to throw something at him.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The room went quiet again. She stirred her mug of coffee and offered him another chance at one which he politely refused although his discipline was waning slightly now he could smell it.

“So this is fine.” He said after a couple of minutes, nodding in a slightly exaggerated manner. He looked out of the kitchen window. “We can do this, right? No awkwardness. No embarrassment. Just normal, everyday conversation.”

“’Course,” she nodded in agreement.

“Start as we mean to go on, right?”

She nodded again. This felt like a trap and she couldn’t put her finger on why. Chris had a knack for saying and doing two different things at the same time, an intimidating ability that often put people on edge if he thought it would serve his purpose, whatever that may be. Probably the actor in him. When you called him out, he would aggressively defend himself which only served to prove the point you were making in the first place.

Scott was the only one, truly, who knew when it was happening. It had taken Sarah years to get to a similar position but now, she wasn’t sure she was remotely close to it.

“It’s as good a starting point as any, I guess.” She shrugged again, sipping from her cup.

“So there’s no need to ignore me then.”

“I haven’t been ignoring you, have I?”

“You tell me. I’m just pre-empting it is all. I’m just saying we can still interact, you and me, if we need to. Like, it doesn’t always have to be in social settings with other people around.” He took a final drink from his bottle and turned to locate the recycling pot stashed away in the corner. Even with a mundane task, he always looked cool doing it.

“So don’t worry about it.”

“Alright then. That’s good to know.” She shot him a raised eyebrow which he caught and returned with a sly smirk. “I’m just trying to be sensible. We have to get this right or else there’s no point.”

“I know, I get that, too.” If he wasn’t attempting to be serious before, he was now. He had a hand on his hip and seemed to have grown a few inches in height. “What do you think I’m trying to say?”

“I…think I’m on the backfoot again and it’s weird.” She held a hand up in defence.

“Hey, I’m just doing what we agreed, OK? I’m just following your rules.”

“They’re not rules.” She struggled to regulate the volume in her voice in case she disturbed Shanna. “And you’re making it sound like I’m controlling the situation when I’m not. We both agreed on this. There’s no point being difficult about it.”

Was he being difficult? Yes. Obviously, he was. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling but happy definitely wasn’t it. Things were out of sorts and he hadn’t been able to eat carbs or sugar for four days so the withdrawal symptoms certainly weren’t helping. He should go easier on her. She was doing the thinking for the both of them. He should learn to be more grateful for that.

He scratched the back of his head and let out an audible sigh in frustration. “I’ll try harder, I promise. We’ve got that cabin thing coming up with Mom, so…I promise I’ll be good.”

He imitated the scout salute and she smiled at him, a smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Another night shift and Audrey and was starting to get suspicious. No one willingly switched for a night shift. For one thing, there was a disproportionate amount of recovery time. A couple of night shifts often took in excess of a week to recover from; a week that a nurse definitely did not have to spare.

“He been buggin’ you?” she asked, finally growing tired of the silence.

“Who?” Sarah looked up from the cabinet. “No, not really. We haven’t really spoken.”

“So why are you ignoring him?”

“I’m not ignoring him! Why does everyone think that?”

“Who’s everyone?”

Crap. Audrey had her there. Sarah open and closed her mouth without a sound coming out. She took a breath. “He’s not bugging me. He’s not. I’m just trying to limit the times we’re in the same place at the same time.”

“Huh, you’d think he would at least allow you to have peace in your own home.”

“Well, to be fair, he hasn’t been around all that much, but…at least I don’t have to worry about him showing up unannounced. It’s stupid but I feel way more awkward about him than I thought I would. It’s like I can’t even stand to be under his gaze.”

Audrey glanced at her friend, wishing she could offer some words of comfort. Even for someone as verbose as she normally was, she was finding it a struggle. Sarah wasn’t much looking for words of comfort at the given time either. She was all too aware of the predicament she was in and how much responsibility laid at her feet. In her mind, waiting it out was the only logical solution she could come up with. The only logical solution that didn’t require more conversations with someone who could feasibly run rings around her “theory” that if they just stayed apart for a little while, they would suddenly and magically forget about the past couple of months.

They stayed filing documents in silence again, the air seemingly getting thicker.

“You ever spoken with someone and it’s like they’re thinking the complete opposite of what’s coming out of their mouth?” Sarah huffed while shoving the cabinet drawer closed.

“Not really. That person’s usually me.”

“But why?” she asked. “Why can’t you just be normal?”

“I mean, it’s not my go-to response of course. It’s normally reserved for occasions when I am trying to indulge someone because I know they’re talking bullshit. Like, when I know Mike has been gambling but he tries to deny it? It’s just easier to figure him out that way.”

Sarah froze to the spot, looking at her friend. She breathed a heavy sigh and turned to lean back on the table behind her and crossed her arms. She stared at her shoes for a second.

“Chris is a smart guy. I’ll give him that.” Audrey muttered loudly so she was sure Sarah could hear.

“Give me something! I’m your friend here.” She implored her before chuckling to herself at Audrey’s face and her own apparent lack of self-awareness.

“You know what I think? You’ve probably got withdrawal symptoms from the all the amazing sex you’ve had and now you’re sulking. I think you should get back on that horse and let him fuck you again. That’s what this is.”

Sarah eyed her friend again. For once, she would love to hear someone tell her that she was right. “That’s really not helping, y’know.”

“And this is?!” Audrey’s shriller tone cut through the dry air, smacking Sarah right in the face. “Honey, this isn’t healthy. You hiding out in the hospital and treating it like your own solace is not healthy at all. I love you but you are your own worst enemy.”

“Alright, thank you. Thank you very much. Thank you for your unswerving efforts to be honest with me at all times and not, like a normal pal, be comforting in any way.” Sarah comically bowed to her friend before considering leaving the office. She would have followed through with the idea as well if it wasn’t for the cosy warmth of O’Brien’s office versus the coldness of the ER department thanks to a leaking pipe. “It’s difficult. I’m sorry. I don’t wanna fall out with you, Audrey.”

Audrey just smiled at her. “I don’t know why you think you have to be the beacon of morality all the time, Sarah. Take a look around. No one else is. We all out here just trying to live our lives as best we can and a part of that is taking advantage of moments of happiness when we find them.”

Something about what Audrey was saying did resonate with her but comparing two months of happiness with Chris to ten years with Shanna was not something she could in good conscience do. Shanna was her security blanket. She provided a comfort of living with someone with shared life experience, of knowing how little you thought about yourself because you were given up as a baby. Honestly, from the very first day they had met, Sarah felt lucky to know her.

Yes, Shanna could be immature at times. Maybe a little selfish. She would often get carried away with trivial things and wasn’t the most reliable person, but what Sarah got in return was worth that and more. Her family enjoyed highlighting the maternal care Sarah would have to provide to someone who was seven months older than she was, but honestly it didn’t matter.

Maybe this was one of the rare occasions where Audrey was wrong.

Chris was a fling at best, Sarah told herself, when she was lying in bed struggling to fall asleep. When she was cold and missing his arms around her. They were both having shitty times and they both got something out of it. That was what Chris had said himself at the very beginning.

Chris 08.15am: You home? Shanna said you were working late again

It was like he knew she would be thinking about him.

Chris 08.17am: I really dont want u ignoring me all the time. This is hard for me right now as well

Fuck.

Sarah 08.21am: I kno. I’m so sorry I made you feel like that :(

He didn’t respond. She thought she saw the tell-tale three dots of him writing something but nothing appeared. Giving up on sleep, she got up and headed into the kitchen. Shanna had left her some bacon in the fridge and a fresh bread bun on the side so she turned on the grill and set about making some coffee.

She felt strangely awake for this time and the apartment was nice and warm from the bright sunshine streaming in from all corners. Maybe a run would help. Or a cold shower.

Chris 08.44am: I wanna be honest with u but I dont think u want that

Chris 08.45am: so what do i do??

Fuck knows.

Chris 08.51am: Can I come over?

Sarah 08.54am: that’s not a good idea

Chris 08.55am: cos you know what will happen?

Chris 08.56am: what does that tell you??

She was sure he was nursing some kind of hangover or, quite possibly, he was still a little bit drunk. There were two responses she could give, she figured. The first would be her usual denial and perhaps an excuse that she was busy or working later than planned. The second, and ultimately the one she opted for, was to agree with him.

Sarah 09.05am: I know what it tells me. That’s why I’m saying you shouldn’t come over

Another three dots followed. There was only so many times they could go around and around in circles and as much as Audrey’s words made sense to her, it felt like she had to make the effort to regain some normality.

He didn’t respond. She stared at her phone for an age but nothing came through. Maybe he got the message? Maybe he had fallen asleep. She was both relieved and suspicious; Chris wasn’t someone who backed down from an argument when he thought he was right. He had said as much himself.

She turned the grill off, having lost her appetite. A run might make more sense and could help clear her head.

She couldn’t sit around waiting for Chris to make his next move.

#Chris evans #chris evans fic #evans fic #fanfiction #clear the area #sarah bernette #chris evans x original female character

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caitlinsfandomthoughts · 3 years

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Watching Star Trek TOS For the First Time! Season 1 Reaction

I’ve been a TNG, DS9 and Voyager fan for maybe 10 years but had never watched TOS until I decided that I would. And then I realised I couldn’t live with the possibility of the internet not being able to know my incoherent rambling reactions if it so desired. Most of these were written the day after I saw them but with the early ones it was later so sorry if I don’t remember your favourite.

Season 1:

The Cage: Be still my beating heart why must number 1 leave the show? Why?! Imagine a world in which Majel Barrett got to continue to be her in the Star Trek universe instead of Lwuxana (sorry I don’t love her) and Nurse Chapel. She’s so beautiful I love her. And she gets to where pants and be the second in command. While the episode for sure has sexist moments it does seem like there was more of an actual effort to present to future as having gender equality. When you compare this to the ultra mini skirted version of the actual show, it does feel like executives went through it to make it more marketable. It’s been noted by others that she is quite similar to what Spock’s character became: the cold, logical one, while Spock smiles in this episode. While I ended up loving Spock I still would’ve loved to see a woman in that kind of role, especially in the 60s. Although I’m not sure she would’ve been treated that well.

So Vina can’t like, get medical treatment from Starfleet doctors who know how to put a human body together? No? We’re just gonna leave her there? She’s too ugly? She’s better off living in a fantasy world where she’s pretty? Ok then…

The Man Trap: I don’t even really remember this one so I’d have to rewatch it.

Charlie X: Charlie sees women and becomes an incel, Kirk has to try and teach him not to be. This is a decent goal that somehow culminates in a space boxing match. Kirk loses his shirt. Sexual tension is presumably resolved. Uhura sings.

Where No Man Has Gone Before: The pants are back. Man becomes some kind of god and Kirk beats him up if I remember correctly.

The Naked Time: This is where The Naked Now comes from. This one was less sexual, which is probably a good thing, and less drunk, which is too bad cause I love drunk Crusher and Picard trying to focus on work while their brains won’t brain. Highly relatable mood. This one is where the immortal line “sorry, neither” comes from, spoken by Uhura in response to Sulu calling her a “fair maiden.” According to the internet that was an ad lib and I so hope that’s true cause it’s amazing. Also according to Spock Sulu is a “swashbuckler at heart” which is cool and all but I wish we got to find that out by him actually being a character that we know the personality of rather than a background diversity guy who gets to say a couple of lines sometimes. Also each to their own but shirtless Sulu is infinitely more attractive than shirtless Kirk.

The Enemy Within: Bad. Women at Warp podcast said it best, it’s bad because they say the evil Kirk is still Kirk and is needed for him to be a good captain/person. This could’ve been ok if he didn’t do something so irredeemable, or they could’ve not had him be defined as a true and necessary part of Kirk, but you can’t have both and sell it as an ok message. Rand not being able to look at ‘good’ Kirk after really makes it feel real, her acting in general makes it feel too real.

Mudd’s Women: Women take beauty pills that make them have makeup on and men find them too ugly to marry without them even though they are still beautiful. Also said women were kinda slaves but don’t worry about it! *hand waves*

What Are Little Girls Made Off: I don’t know what the title has to do with the episode. This is the episode where Nurse Chapel is introduced even though she was in a previous episode. And she’s taken more seriously than I thought she would be. Kirk gets an android version of himself made by a guy who he already doesn’t trust and doesn’t predict that maybe that’s not a good idea. Apparently to make an android all you need to do is put one person and one dummy on a giant plate and spin them around real fast. If only the guy who wanted to take apart Data in Measure of a Man knew.

Miri: Problematic. I think the crush angle could’ve worked if it was one sided, but Kirk played into it and it was creepy, and you know, also manipulative, assuming Kirk doesn’t actually feel the same way and is using it to get her to help them. That’s my more charitable interpretation anyway. Also McCoy doesn’t know how vaccines work. Also this episode doesn’t know what puberty is, or rather when it starts. If the virus is supposed to get to you then, that starts round the preteen age. Miri is older than that even though she’s not an adult.

Dagger of the Mind: This was the first one where I was starting to quite like it and it was feeling a little more like Star Trek to me (I know this is the first Star Trek but there’s a certain way 80s/90s era Star Trek feels to me). I really liked the beginning where it was setting up this whole maybe prisoners become violent because of how the prison treats them thing and that it was challenging the viewpoints of some of the main characters, although McCoy was already team prisons are bad and I love him for that. It then went more into the lobotomising asylum type story which was still ok. The guy turned out to be a doctor rather than a prisoner which I didn’t like cause I wanted the prisoners to be humanised. Although you could’ve done a “see anyone, even ‘innocent’ non criminals can be turned violent with this treatment” but they didn’t really emphasise that.

The Corbomite Maneuver: I don’t remember this. Kirk playing poker with some alien I think. Edit: I’m been informed this is the one where the alien turns out to be a lollypop guild kid lip-syncing to an adult’s voice, which I do remember, and probably thought it was some kind of sleep-deprived fever dream.

The Menagerie Part 1 & 2: I laughed so much when they wheeled Pike out and I finally got the Futurama reference in Where No Fan Has Gone Before. I mean I obviously knew the whole thing was a Star Trek Reference, but I had never seen that specific imagery before and now the joke makes sense! Also Pike wanting to go back there seems kinda wrong. I mean they say he’s a vegetable mentally I think but he doesn’t seem to be? I can kinda get that he’s got more incentive to be there than Vina who could probably be helped by Federation doctors but also, he hated that place and spent the whole episode trying to get out of it and it doesn’t feel like a fitting ending for him.

The Conscious of the King: And here begins Star Trek’s love affair with Shakespeare. The only thing I have to say really is, if I didn’t mishear something… a father and daughter played Macbeth and Lady Macbeth? A married couple. And no-one thought that was weird? She was the daughter of a dictator though so there was an Ivanka Trump vibe.

Balance of Terror: Romulans. Spock wasn’t sure that they were related to Vulcans till this ep, though he suspected it. How far back did they split for it to be unknown? I like that the Romulans were sympathetic and we had scenes with them just in their ship from their perspective, and they had some conflicting views with each other. And I really like how Spock was suspected as a spy cause racism and of course he wasn’t and saved that guy cause he’s the better person. That said I found this episode pretty boring and I don’t know why. I kinda wish it turned into a witchhunt situation and was more about the racism on the Enterprise, kinda like The Drumhead from TNG.

Shore leave: Wtf was this episode?! And I don’t ask that because the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland showed up, or that it was a random holodeck planet episode, that’s fine. When the White Rabbit appeared I was just like, ok it’s going to be one of those episodes, that’s fine. Holodeck episodes are fun, I don’t even mind a random magic alien or two appearing for no reason to wreak havoc, say by making everyone larp as Robin Hood, that’s all Star Trek, that’s Star Trek doing a Star Trek, what I didn’t like is this episode goes nowhere! McCoy sees the White Rabbit, we’re off to a good start, Sulu “Swashbuckler at Heart” sees an old gun that he geeks out on, cool. Kirk sees some woman of course. Also there’s some guy fending off a tiger. Random female guest star of the week rather than letting Uhura be part of the story gets her uniform torn by some guy. Then she imagines a princess dress and if that were me as soon as I realised I could think things into existence I would just imagine all my dream clothes. Kirk imagines an old student friend who is attempting very hard to be Irish (thank you Colm Meany for saving us from this).

Anyway so the planets a holodeck cool. And I’m like, Spock should beam down, I wanna know what he’ll see, this is where the episode could get interesting. And then it happens, but nothing happens, they don’t even make much of a deal of him not seeing anything. But then I thought what if! What if Spock didn’t beam down and this was another imagination?! What if he was some alien with some ulterior motive OR better than that we get to see Spock as imagined by whoever was thinking of him. You could go down a very fanfic road if it were Kirk’s imagined or desired view of him, or maybe you could show different people’s perceptions and then they still suspect he’s not acting like himself even though it’s how they see him, but its not quite right, cause it’s not actually how he is. Or at least I thought they were going to find out what was going on. But NOPE none of that happens. Instead leprechaun guy shows up again and Kirk just wonders off to fight him for the next fucking millennium! The uniforms they wore at the academy seem like they were made out of better quality material than that of a Starfleet captain’s. Poor Kirk must be having to replicate new uniforms every other day. Then they laugh I think, and sexual tension is presumably resolved. Then the aliens show up and are like yeah this planet is a holodeck we thought you’d like it also McCoy died but he didn’t and I’m like THEY DIDN’T CONSENT TO THIS. But then they decide to party.

It reminded me of a Red Dwarf episode called Better Than Life where they knowingly go into a virtual reality game which is basically the same as this planet. But over time Rimmer keeps sabotaging what he imagines cause he hates himself so much his brain won’t let him have nice things. And it’s still a comedy, but there’s an opportunity for exploring the character’s psyche with this setup that wasn’t done here and that made it boring.

The Galileo Seven: This episode was good!! In contrast to the last one it delivered on promises it made, it had a satisfying ending, it’s probably my favourite so far. The whole time I was like this should be about how Spock can be wrong and logic isn’t everything to be a good commander. But given the quality of the previous episodes wasn’t that great and Spock was always right about everything I didn’t trust them to do that. BUT I WAS WRONG. I thought it would be about how just because you don’t have emotions doesn’t mean you can disregard those of the crew. But instead it was about how he couldn’t predict their enemy wouldn’t act based on emotion rather than logic. And then he admitted he was wrong and helped the guy bury the other guy, and then they were about to die and McCoy was like at least I’ve lived to hear Spock say he fucked up. And then Spock jettisoned the fuel so that it might act like a flare but it gave them less time and I was like no you’ve learned nothing! Don’t just do things that severe without asking your crew. But then after they were saved it was described as an act of desperation rather than anything logical and Kirk was like that’s an emotion isn’t it? You acted on emotion? And Spock was like well yes but I’m not gonna say it like that.

I like that emotion was good actually. I think it’s a fine balance between the message of its ok to be different and using Spock as an analogy for racism, and inadvertently neurodiversity, but also not buying into the idea that emotions = weakness and lack of emotion, or emotional repression = objectivity. Even if you don’t factor emotion into your decisions (which would be impossible unless you don’t experience emotions at all) it doesn’t mean that you don’t have personal biases in your perspective. So I’m glad Spock was wrong for once.

The Squire of Gothos: This is Q this is Proto-Q. He does all the same things that Q does; he shows up in clothes that are way out of date (and he thinks they’re from 900 years ago when they’re clearly early 19th century) and he flirts with the captain. Oh and he has powers, maybe they were computer powers, but not all? And he goes on about humans being brutal, warmongering people but he’s kinda into it. He fights Kirk but there was actual tension so it wasn’t annoying like the one with the Irish guy. And then it turns out he was just a kid exactly like the Futurama episode, except he is a kid not 35. I think him being a kid makes the flirting seem weird though.

Arena: Kirk and the Gorn at Tanagra. Kirk fights a lizard because aliens wanted to encourage them to not fight by telling them to fight. I thought maybe these lizards could be proto Cardassians but then I thought they can’t be they don’t talk, but then he spoke so I thought they could be, but then he was the one who was invaded and was only defending his people so I thought they couldn’t be, unless that was actually just lies and justifications in which case they definitely would be, but then that would undermine the message of the episode so I guess not. I wonder how many leaders have killed each other before these alien’s negotiation tactic actually worked.

Tomorrow is Yesterday: This was fun. There were a lot of twists and turns. I wonder if it was before or after the moonlanding. Every plan just makes it worse and more and more people keep getting exposed to the future. Kirk could’ve easily just closed the door and beamed back at the end but instead opts to punch like six people. (I think this is where “a woman?” “Crewman.” Comes from).

Court Martial: What if Kirk actually did it though? Would that be more interesting? Maybe. At least here he has an age appropriate love interest. She’s prosecuting against him which is surely a conflict of interest. AND she has a uniform with a longer skirt! And it actually looks good, like it looks like an actual dress that she can sit down in and it still looks like a dress and not a crumpled up shirt. It’s elegant but it’s still short. I could see this being an option (for any gender) as a dress uniform but it would still make no sense when they’re serving on a ship.

Return of the Archons: I am LIVING for Spock in a medieval style hood. It’s giving me Peter Cook in a Mother Superior’s wimple in Bedazzled vibe, it’s not quite on that level of beauty, but it’s close. For some reason Sulu returned from the planet in 18th century gear but then everyone else is dressed like it’s the 19th century, with some medieval robes thrown in, and this annoys me more than it should. Maybe it’s because he’s a swashbuckler at heart. Apparently they had a completely peaceful society except for the nightly purge they seemed to have going on that is never mentioned again.

Space Seed: KHHANN! I liked this a lot until the end. I want to know the lore behind Data’s Dad having his middle and last name. Edit: Actually only the middle name is the same and the last name is just similar. I still think there’s lore there (excuse the pun), probably he’s a descendent of his cult followers or something. The story seemed to be eugenics bad and also the type of guy to basically be a eugenics cult leader would be super manipulative and abusive but just charming enough in a relationship. It does a pretty good job of showing the abuse in his relationship with the historian woman, how he switches between being loving and I guess charming, and flattering to being abusive and degrading. I wish that the historian woman could find someone that she can explore domination and submission with consensually cause that seems like it would be what she really wants. Anyway but in the end they just let him go? Like he tried to take over the ship but they were like here have a colony. They compared the place to Australia when the colonists arrived at Botany Bay and that it could be... I forget what the word was but basically ‘civilised’ and No NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO STOP RIGHT THERE NO Australia was already populated and didn’t need eugenicist cult leaders who were demonstrably bad to show up make it ‘better.’ AND THEN the historian is given the choice to go with them and she does and its framed like it’s good? Or at least ok? When they just did a pretty decent job of showing how abusive and manipulative he was and she had redeemed herself by turning against him? So I get that they probably wanted to bring him back although they’re probably not gonna bring her back, but they could’ve easily had him escape instead.

A Taste of Armageddon: Suicide machines. I forget the rest.

This Side of Paradise: SEX POLLEN! Well it’s more fall in love pollen, I guess, for one character. There’s a woman and there’s the music and the soft focus and BUT WAIT then the camera cuts to Spock not Kirk! Because she has taste. It’s about this point that I think the ‘Spock’s the most popular but Shatner wants to remain the star so we’ll emphasise their character’s relationship thus inadvertently inventing slash fic’ might’ve started. It’s time for a love triangle! She makes Spock get the sex pollen, which is not getting consent, and then he falls in love with her and is climbing trees and is all happy. Kirk can’t get a text back from Spock. Then Kirk and two others get the pollen except Kirk didn’t, but he did, but anyway I thought everyone would be horny but they weren’t they were just brainwashed. Soon Kirk is all alone on the bridge, then he gets the pollen and is happy to live as a poly triad but then he gets angry and it’s gone. Then he calls Spock to the ship and approaches the situation in the only way Kirk knows how: Homoerotic punching! So they fight for not long enough and then Spock is cured but he’s a little sad, there’s sadness in his voice, it’s not quite so matter of fact. Then Spock’s gf gets sad and the sex pollen is gone too, Spock might still have feelings for her but he has responsibilities to the ship and “to that man on the bridge” which if he was saying to just mean once again the whole ship, and its mission and the captain in a professional sense, seems a little redundant, which would surely be illogical.

The colonists get sad that they haven’t done anything for years because the sex pollen made them unambitious but I would argue maybe the sex pollen was right and you were better off just vibing. This episode was more interesting and less silly than I thought the creator of sex pollen would be. At the end Spock says that for the first time in his life he was happy. While every other character could still easily become addicted to a thing like that they could at least know they would experience happiness or any feelings again in their life, for Spock it was going back to nothingness.

Devil in the Dark: Spock calls Kirk Jim which I don’t think he has before, when he’s talking over the communicator and he’s worried he’s in danger, there’s some actual fear or urgency in his voice. Also the moment that got me was when Kirk wanted to send Spock back the ship cause he didn’t trust him to kill the creature and Spock was like “but… I’m not really as useful there I am here… so…” If I was writing it I would’ve played that up more but anyway, I like that they didn’t kill the creature. I like that McCoy said the thing. And also said “I’m starting to think I can cure a rainy day.” He’s my favourite.

Errand of Mercy: It’s kinda becoming the Kirk Spock show now, I like the ship but I miss McCoy. I like that the passive pacifists who Kirk was so angry with were actually more powerful. And KLINGONS! Oh yeah the orientalism, the yellow peril, it’s… it’s there all right. They were played a lot colder here, a little Cardassian maybe, still bloodthirsty but I don’t believe this guy has to do it himself to feel honourable, he can kill for sure but he’s fine ordering someone else to do it and being a chessmaster too.

The Alternative Factor: God this one was boring. But it does have a man with the worst beard wig I’ve ever seen. Now he’s stuck fighting the bad version of himself or something to save the universe. So remember that when you’re watching later Trek series, all of this could suddenly be destroyed if one of them gets tired.

The City on the Edge of Forever: UHURA GETS TO GO ON AN AWAY MISSION! Aaaand she doesn’t get to do anything :/ The usual three go back in time! To the 60s again! Oh wait… that’s meant to be the 30s? Oh. That’s some tall hair that lady has for the 30s. But at least said lady is a character, she’s a little perfect but she does things, she has strong beliefs, she might be written a little idealised, but she is still written like a person compared to almost every other Kirk love interest. “He says it (captain) even when he doesn’t say it” is an interesting line. So she has to die, I still think they could’ve just convinced her that you don’t make friends with fascists but ok. They never say what the Clark Gable movie is.

Operation Annihilate! Kirk’s brother dies, and so does his sister in law, leaving his nephew without parents. This is never resolved and the episode ends with them laughing about how Spock got his eyesight back.

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coinofstone · 4 years

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3x12 The Coming of Arthur pt 1

The title is such low hanging fruit I feel bad cracking a joke about it.

It's a quest episode! I love a quest episode. Srsly feel free to send me any and all Merthur quest fics. I can't get enough 😂

This is the episode responsible for the lovely Leon fanon headcanon that he's immortal. Always handy in an Arthur Returns fic.

Uther: you must go on this mission alone

Arthur: *brings Merlin*

I do love Merlin being being a smart alec and nagging Arthur while packing. Excellent banter.

Arthur said

Arthur threatening a young boy like this is such an ugly and uncharacteristic action it makes me angry.

Merlin tending to Arthur while he's sick and injured 🥺

Also I'm sorry but Merlin shows fuckin Gilli his magic but he's hiding it from fuckin Gwaine while Arthur is suffering? Silly.

Cenred's massive army makes me wonder if it's a result of his tolerance of magic or lower standards than the knights of Camelot, or some combination of both.

Poor Leon, though. He's just got back from near death in that forest and Uther sends him right fuckin back in 😂

Looks like they snuck in to Camelot via the dragon's cave. I doubt that was the intention but I still approve 😂

Knowing he's on a suicide mission, Arthur gives Merlin an out, knowing he'll never take it, knowing he doesn't even want him to: he still presents him with the choice.

How come literally everyone else gets a crown that fits them but Arthur walks around looking like he's wearing hand-me-downs?

Morgana might be evil but she looks damn good on a throne.

3x13 The Coming of Arthur pt 2

There's a post going around Twitter about ppl who nitpick at TV shows... this comment falls into exactly that category 100% but I'm sorry, I cannot just ignore the fact that Morgana's got these massive banners and an entire army's worth of uniforms, I mean look:

Every guard with the sigil on his uniform and half a dozen banners in the council chambers alone. That's to say nothing of the ones outside. I mean look at the sheer fuckin size of these things:

Look how tiny the ppl are next to em! They've gotta be at least 15 feet long, at least. Where did they come from? Were they all magicked into existence? Who designed that sigil? What does it represent? Is it Gorlois' banner? I HAVE QUESTIONS.

Leon isn't someone I've ever been particularly attracted to, personally, but his defiant shout of "Long Live the King" in the face of Morgana's threats, is sexy as hell.

Depressed Arthur is such a mood.

So. Gwen. Originally in 3x12 when Morgana essentially invited Gwen into the fold (insofar as a Queen's servant can be), it seems to be a set up, because Morgana has been treating Gwen like shit for ages, why would she suddenly want her friend back? Especially since Morgana knows something is going on between Gwen and Arthur - there's no way she believes that they were actually under the spell of some random sorcerer, that just doesn't make any sense. So you kind of assume - or at least I did - that Morgana is keeping Gwen close knowing that she'll be useful as bait or a hostage, just essentially as a person of value to Arthur. She's known Gwen for too long to actually believe she'd cross Arthur, there's just no way someone as machiavellian as Morgana doesn't see Gwen's 'loyalty' as a simple survival tactic. All of this is to say, when Morgana and Morgause eavesdrop on Gwen's conversation with Sir Leon, Morgana is just like, 'welp, she's betrayed me. Guess I'll kill her in the morning.' as though she was actually expecting Gwen to do anything else?!?! Like, why? It would've made so much more sense to just cut that line entirely and go straight to something like

Morgana: it's as we suspected, she's betrayed me

Morgause: yes, now she can lead us straight to Arthur

And it would've made so much more sense than the weird sort of purgatory they've implied where Morgana changed her mind about Gwen very suddenly the night before she took the throne. It's not a super important detail in the overarching story but it's another example of how carelessly their story has been handled.

Me rn:

I do love that they made Freya the Lady of the Lake, and that she kept her promise by telling Merlin how to defeat the army of the dead.

How Merlin really sees Kilgharrah:

Gwen really is the smartest of all of them.

I do love that Merlin's first undead kill with excalibur is entirely an accident lol

The subtext between Morgana and Morgause is really gross. I haven't said anything before because I generally don't approve of ship shaming but the not so subtle subtext gives me the heebies.

This is such a great shot

Everything about it, his woman at his left and his man at his right, his romantic rival opposite him on his wife's side, as directly opposite her as possible at a round table with an uneven number of placements. It's a really beautiful shot, fitting for an equally beautiful scene. It's a very moving scene, the music really adds the exact emotion you'd expect for this moment we all recognize... and I feel like the knights' oaths are very well matched. The snarky part of me wanted to make a 'call me maybe' joke about Percival, but he's so sincere I just can't do it. The moment of levity added by Merlin's banter with Arthur is really, really well paced. Honestly I think it's probably the next perfect, iconic scene since Gwen and Arthur's first kiss. Hats off to this crew.

(Don't worry dear reader, I'm sure I'll get back to complaining shortly)

Santiago is so dreamy. I'd share his bedroll any day.

I like that despite all the talk of equality and doing the thing Uther wouldn't approve of, Gwen still worries about the company seeing her and Arthur kiss. Like, he's planning an insurrection with a bunch of commoners and two dudes who've been officially banished from Camelot, but she's internalized the classism and the rules of royalty so deeply that even amongst friends she instinctively keeps their relationship hidden. I'm not sure how intentional that was but it's brilliant.

The fight big fight scene with Merlin just barely missing the cup while the knights are cornered, and Gaius showing up like the brilliant deus ex machina that he is, honestly makes the previous budget-slashed episodes more bearable. Because this really is great, even knowing it's great at the expense of those others.

Morgana's screeching is eerily similar to Aithusa's.

I wonder if they knew they were getting renewed for a fourth season when they wrote this. Because you know, it really could've worked as a series finale as well. An open-ended series finale, but a series finale all the same.

As a Queens kid, I cannot explain to you the joy it gives me to watch Arthur and Merlin just chillin on the steps to the castle as tho it were a stoop, which I suppose, in a sense... it kind of is. Ahhh youthful days.

Commentary is Jeremy Webb and Julian Murphy.

And this kids, is why we're watching with commentary! They've just explained that Morgana's sigil is supposed to symbolize the Rowan tree that's supposed to be at the heart of the Isle of the Blessed. That suggests she designed it herself, so there's at least one of my earlier questions answered.

They talk a lot about how Emila Fox was very pregnant when they were filming her in this season, and they shot entirely around it - and I can't help but feel anger toward Joss Whedon and his 'handling' of Charisma Carpenter's pregnancy during S4 of Angel.

One of them called the round table scene 'curiously moving' and I think that is really fitting. They'd had this in mind for about two years, which is probably why it's so extraordinary. That's a great gestation period for a scene as iconic as this.

One final tidbit: the sword in the stone was filmed in France, and made it back to Wales intact. I guess nobody wanted to take it out. That's kind of an interesting thought, like a little set superstition or something. It's kind of cute.

The DVD extras/special features will get a separate post if I feel I have comments worth sharing.

#bbc merlin #bbc merlin spoilers #merlin #merlin spoilers #merthur #3x12 #bbc merlin 3x12 #merlin 3x12 #3x13 #bbc merlin 3x13 #merlin 3x13 #the coming of Arthur #the coming of Arthur part one #the coming of Arthur part two #the coming of Arthur pt 1 #the coming of Arthur pt 2 #i cannot believe that's the actual title of this episode #onceandfuturerewatch

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winterhawkwonderland · 4 years

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FAQs 2020 Edition

Hey there, Wonderland Participants! As promised, here is your 2020 edition of Questions We Have Received. Some of these are repeats from blog asks or that we have previously answered, but this way it’s all in once place!

First though, a quick review of the dates and rules:

Dates: (as you can see, we are right on schedule!)

Monday 05 October: Signups open

Sunday 01 November: Signups close

Sunday 08 November: Assignments will be emailed - these will arrive in the email inbox you provided when you signed up so if you did not receive a confirmation email from us we do not have a means to contact you with your assignment - please message the blog ASAP

Sunday 22 November: Check-In #1

Sunday 06 December Check-In #2; Posting Date Signups

December 15-25: Gifts Posted

Friday 15 Jan: Round-Up Posted

Rules:

This exchange is for good-hearted fun! Remember that you’re getting a gift, not ordering a commission.

Don’t be a dick.

Works submitted for this event have to be original works that haven’t yet been posted elsewhere in the fandom. Everybody deserves a new, unique gift!

Remember to keep your recipient a secret until your gift is posted.

This event doesn’t allow any works involving the Big AO3 Four (Character Death, Underage, Rape/Non-con, Extreme Violence). Just… this isn’t the place for it.

This event is open to all ages — with the caveat that participants under the age of 18 will not be allowed to create or receive sexual content.

This year we are allowing art and writing.

Fanart: Final pieces should be digitally consumable. This can include fanart, moodboards, and the like.

Fanfic: Absolute minimum 1000 words; no maximum; expectation between 1K-3K.

All works need to be complete before posting — this includes multi-chapter work.

Now, onto the questions we’ve received so far!

If we write a story best formatted as multiple chapters and finished by the deadline, can we post just chapter one on the day the story is due and each chapter on a new day thereafter or does an entire multi-chaptered work have to go up all at once?

The multi-chapter work must be complete by your posting date and must be completely posted by the end of posting. Basically, posting runs December 15-25th (dates overlap both Christmas and Hanukkah) - dates will be assigned on a first-come, first-served basis by google form sign-up, and your entire work must be completely posted by December 25th. If you have many chapters, we recommend that you choose an earlier posting date so that you can post a chapter each day until complete and still be done by final posting date.

Will I get assigned to make either art or fic or do I get the prompts and choose which to make?

You will receive three prompts from your gift recipient and you may fulfill the request in whatever fashion you like as long as it respects the recipients DNWs. If you can make all three prompts into one art piece or one fic, go for it. You can focus on only one prompt. You can mash up two of the three! Whatever inspires you, we encourage you to get creative!

Are we allowed to combine our gift with a bingo fill if we can fit a bingo event prompt into the gift exchange prompt?

We are okay with this as long as the following conditions are met:

The work produced must prioritize the recipient’s request. If you can make werewolf den mothering and canon-compliant mission AU match up in a way that makes sense and that meets the recipient’s requests and DNWs, go for it.

The Bingo event is okay with prompts doing double-duty for our event and theirs.

The work created must meet the cumulative requirement for BOTH events. For example we are asking for 1-3k at minimum. If the Bingo requires 500 words, you would need to produce at least 1500 words to meet the guidelines for both events. It is hard to give an example of how that would apply to art, but the general idea is that you are creating a body of work which cumulatively meets the requirements for both events. Mood boards might need 6-8 images instead of 4, for example, or art might have a detailed background or full shading rather than a black and white sketch.Please use your good judgment with the idea that you are creating a gift for someone to enjoy in addition to filling a Bingo prompt rather than filling a Bingo prompt that you happen to gift someone.

Are threesome ships allowed for the exchange? As long as Clint and Bucky are prominently included? Can we put that as a request?

You can request an OT3 as part of your requests, but as this is a Winterhawk event your creator is under no obligation to fulfill any poly ships that are not Winterhawk. Additionally, the focus should definitely be on the Winterhawk aspect of the relationship.

When we will receive our matches?

On or before November 8th, depending on whether the mods can dig themselves out of the emotional black hole we’re all currently in to get it done early. We are working on matches every day!

How are matches made?

Matches are made through a very sophisticated system of: first we match up sensitive topic requests, such as ace/aro, trans, etc. with creators who are comfortable with those subjects and will treat them respectfully. Then we ensure that unusual DNWs (things that don't fall under the Big 4 or that aren't what most would consider 'common' DNWs such as abuse) are not matched with people who might accidentally include that DNW in a gift. For example, if you put werewolves on your DNW list, we aren't going to match you with someone who has submitted three werewolf prompts. That person likes werewolves, and you don't! It's not a good match! Finally, we pray over the spreadsheet to the Random Number Generator Gods, and they spit out divinely reveal Random Numbers for us to match. Entry number 1 gets matched to holy Russian Roulette entry number 25! Unless one of those already has been matched, that's the pairing that gets emailed out! This is the fairest way we have come up with to do the matchmaking, but if you receive a prompt you absolutely feel you cannot create for, please reach out to us and we will see what we can do about resolving the situation, whether that means we make a matching change, or we ask the gift recipient for new prompts.

How do posting dates work?

After the second check in, a Google Form will be emailed out to all participants - you will be able to choose a date on the form that you would like to post on, running the entire length of the posting period (December 15-25th). There will be a limited number of slots per day (4-5 spots) and they will be filled on a first-come, first-served basis. Again, we recommend that if you have a multi-chapter work and would like to post a chapter per day/every other day that you sign up for an early posting date so that your work is completely posted before the event ends December 25.

What are the Check-Ins?

Just a way for the Mod Team to check in with participants to ensure things are running smoothly. We will ask you how your gift is coming along, if you’re having any trouble we can help with, and if you have any concerns you would like to voice.

The second check-in is going to ask you to be a little more specific about your progress towards completion, and it will give us as mods an opportunity to offer you help if you need it - cheerleading, beta readers, etc.

What if I need to drop out?

Please, please, please let us know as soon as possible. We have pinch-hitters on standby, very willing to step in if needed - we understand that things happen! We will not even ask you why you need to drop out, we will just say thank you for letting us know and then we will pass your recipients prompts on to a pinch hitter. No drama at all, and nothing to feel anxious about. No one will even know that you dropped out unless you tell them. Gifts are kept anonymous until posting day, and your recipient will still receive a gift regardless of whether you are able to provide it or not.

#winterhawk #winterhawk wonderland #FAQs

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

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BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (5)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters: Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START / RREV / NEXT

Ms Iroi always tries to engage him in conversation whenever she comes in, asking questions and chatting to herself in a fruitless attempt at helping him recover his 'lost' memories. Most of the time, Kakashi is indifferent to her presence and always has a magazine handy as an excuse not to talk.

Today, Iroi is in a particularly good mood, humming to herself, greeting him with an energetic, “How are you doing today!”

Kakashi grunts a noncommittal response which doesn’t do much to discourage the woman’s good mood as she runs through a check-up routine.

“You should try watching U.A’s sports festival tomorrow. I hear it’s going to be particularly spectacular this year,” she says as she pulls the blinds on Kakashi's window, blocking out the distant city lights.

U.A? he recognises the name. Kakashi glances up over the pages of HERO!! MONTHLY BREAKDOWN. It is the third time he has read this issue.

“You know, since you like reading those hero magazines, I figured you would be interested in watching the ‘next generation of heroes’ debut,” she continues, noting his attention, “U.A always puts on a good show.”

Kakashi frowns. The problem with his amnesia cover story is that he is still trying to figure out what he can get away with not remembering. So far the doctor’s seem content to chalk up the disappearance of his long term memories to a ‘quirk’ accident but were always more concerned when he failed to recall basic factual information. Something to do with different parts of the brain being responsible for different types of information.

“Watch how?” He settles on asking. U.A. was supposed to be a hero-training academy so whatever this ‘sports festival’ was was worth checking out.

“Oh,” Iori pauses to think, “I, ah, think channel 2 with be covering it?” she hesitates, “You know what. I’ll look it up and let you know later. Sorry, I can’t carry my phone around with me while on shift.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and makes a show of returning to his magazine to dissuade further conversation.

Later the same evening, just before the end of the evening shift, Iori pokes her head into his room again. She is out of uniform, long hair untired, waving to catch his attention.

“The coverage is on channel 2 and starts at 11am,” She holds up her portable communication devise like it means something. It probably did mean something. The frequency by which people checked them suggested it had a function beyond basic communication. He has held off attempting to steal one because, unlike pens, people would notice and care if one went missing.

“Have fun watching! Oh… also, I forgot to ask…”

Kakashi raises a brow.

“I have a bunch of old gossip magazines. Mum used to read them all the time and there are a few hero-themed ones in the mix. I can bring them in if you want more stuff to read.”

“If you want.” Iori must have noticed him re-reading the magazines.

"I'll bring them on Friday!"

Iori had been unsubtly hinting that Kakashi might have had a history in heroics. It definitely wasn’t because reading information on a page just made sense when compared to the barrage of conflicting reports the television gave him. A few weeks with only the television as his information source has him writing off most of its information as useless or propaganda.

…

...

“HEELLLOOOOO, LISTENERS!”

Kakashi stares dully as the video footage, which had been giving him a bird’s eye view of a positively massive stadium, changes to a sweeping shot of what must be thousands of people crammed into seats. It almost makes him claustrophobic just watching it.

“WELLCOME TO OUR ANNUAL U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! THE HIGH SCHOOL ADOLESCENT RODEO YOU ALL LOVE TO WATCH. CAN A GET A ‘OH YEAH!’”

As if of one mind, thousands of people leap to their feet screaming. The camera angle changes again to show a grinning blond-haired man, seated at a desk and pointing enthusiastically at the camera. All these shot changes are going to give him a headache. Kakashi is already having reservations watching this and its only10 minutes.

“Thank you! You’re an AMAZING audience!”

It almost reminds him of the final Chunin Exam stages -if the Chunin exams had had three times the audience - which always involved some sort of combat display. There hadn’t been any public Chunin Exams recently for reasons such as a large portion of Konoha being flattened by Pein.

“FIRST UP ARE OUR FIRST-YEAR EVENTS! And what an exciting round of events they are, perfect for debuting our newest students! Give us a shout so they can feel your support!”

Another loud shot as thousands of people yelled in unison.

“Come on! Louder than that! These are your future Heroes I’m talking about! SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!”

More yelling. Kakashi turns down the volume.

“But! Wait just a minute!! We're not only here for our Hero students! As I'm sure you all know, behind every great hero is a hardworking support team! GIVE IT UP FOR our Support, Management and General departments who are also competing for a chance to face off in the finals!”

Kakashi sighs. He is getting the sense that this might be more for entertainment than utility purposes, conforming to the general trend of Hero-related stuff being flashy. Different from the Chunin exam which had deadly consequences if not taken seriously.

“Hey. Hey! HERE THEY COME NOW! OUR STUDENTS PARTICIPATING IN THE FIRST YEAR STAGE!”

What follows is an overly dramatized race where the only thing of interest to him are the obstacle types, including robots, - mobile mechanical weapons of some sort that produced a lot of environmental damage but were taken down fairly easily- and explosive devices that acted a lot like explosive tags. Then there was a team elimination round and one-on-one tournament fights after which the coverage shifts to the second year and third year stages.

He uncovers the sharingun only to discover that, while its memorisation function worked fine, the part that translated the movements into muscle memory felt off. Perhaps, the replication and copying component of the eye didn’t work when viewing a technique through a screen rather than in person. Interesting. As there wasn't anything particularly impressive technique-wise during the events he counts the new information as a net gain.

The student-heroes – he is not sure if there is an official term for a hero in training – barely match Konoha’s academy standard in their taijutsu and physical conditioning though there was marked improvement between first, second and third-year groups. These students were what...between 14-18 years old...and yet most had the skill level of an academy students and fresh genuin with only a few notable exceptions?

Sure, there were - honestly ridiculous- versatile and powerful bloodline abilities being thrown around like nothing, but ninjutsu techniques only took a shinobi so far without a strong base to work from. He shakes his head, reminding himself that these kids - because what else did you call combatants who hadn’t graduated yet- weren’t shinobi in training and would be policing civilians and engaging ‘Villains’ of similar skill levels. It was obvious that the students favoured non-lethal takedown methods and put little to no thought into stealth and misdirection during fights.

Different words…different priorities.

As Kakashi has yet to see any evidence that the country, Japan, was at war with another he thinks the skill level displayed might be serviceable. There were also no major conflicts between the country’s large cities over farmland, water sources and the like. Obviously, this place had sorted out the resource and distribution issues usually encountered when supporting such large populations. Or, who knows, maybe everything on the television was a carefully constructed lie to lull people into complacency.

Now he has seen an example of hero-students, he better understands the low combat ability demonstrated by the police. It also gives incite into the blurry recordings of Hero/Villain confrontations which played on repeat across the various ‘news’ reports. They all tended to hover around Chunin or maybe Special Jounin in terms of skill. He knows generalisations are dangerous so, until he saw the combat in person, he would exercise his usual level of caution. There were bound to be outliers after all-the impressive brute strength of the number one hero comes to mind- and there was no telling what advantages a bloodline ability might provide. Absently, he makes testing the susceptibly of people without chakra to genjustu as something to figure out sooner rather than later.

He sighs. This is why he hated the television. Whenever he watched it, he came away increasingly confused, with more questions than he had answers. Not to mention anything useful being constantly interrupted with information detailing one of the many products that he could apparently buy here. It irritated him to no end.

...

The chakra collecting seal is ready before the week is out. Mostly ready...it was ready enough.

Kakashi returns to the roof. Sitting cross-legged, back against the stairway entrance, he works his way through the 100 or so pens, cracking them open and tapping out ink into a large bowl, stolen -like the pens -from hospital staff.

The mix of black, blue and red ink is gluggy, forcing him to add water to thin the solution out. Once satisfied he pulls out an appropriated scalpel – one of a growing collection hidden alongside his pens because having a stash of weapons is never a bad thing- pricking his middle finger, watching the blood drip and curdle with the mixture. The blood would be absorbed into the ink, allowing it to conduct chakra. He mixes everything with pair of disposable chopsticks, taking care not to spill it on the ground or stain his hands.

The whole process reminds him of other insistences where he had improvised fuinjutsu ink in the field. The last time being during his final Anbu missions where he had created a body storage scroll from scratch after unexpectedly losing a squad mate on what should have been a simple intel retrieval mission. Not a particularly fond memory but a memory he was stuck with.

Since his demotion to Jonin-sensei there had been fewer of those sorts of missions. Not that being a Jonin-sensei had been easy – considering all his students had gone off to find other teachers he didn't even think he had been particularly good at it - bringing with it its own special brand of stress, culminating in a stint as Hokage, a fourth war and him stuck here. He is pretty sure his experiences aren't universal. Team 7 was just cursed to fail in increasingly spectacular ways.

He lets out a heavy sigh, leaving his airways open to a sudden gust of cold wind which carries the scent of cleaning chemicals from the hospital and oil from the road straight up his nose. He exhales forcefully and mentally bumps finding a face mask up his list of priorities. It would be good for hiding his features and dulling the artificial smells of a city housing over a million people.

The sound of wind whistling around the building almost blocks out the echo of feet in the stairway, approaching his location. In one smooth motion, Kakashi stands pushing the remaining broken pen back into the vent, nudging the cover back in place with his foot. Carefully he holds the bowl of ink in his injured arm and a scalpel in the other. Kakashi steps back against the entrance so the outward opening door would hide him from whoever came out.

A crying kid comes barrelling through the door.

Well, not completely crying, more like sniffing loudly, eyes all shiny. He even recognises the kid from the U.A combat demonstration, as improbable as that was. It is the first year hero student with the speed-enhancing ability which, seeing him up close, probably had something to do with the strange growths coming out of his caff muscles. High speed movement put enormous strain on the body so he could reasonably conclude that the kid was physically resilient to acceleration stress and similar forces. Not resilient to stabbing though....

Kakashi forces himself to relax, his scalpel lowering ever so slightly. Lucky he had heard the kid coming or he might have accidentally hurt him. A few weeks of reduced sleep coupled with a lot of time to ruminate on past missions and failures has put him on edge. This was exactly why he disliked taking extended breaks.

Maybe, Kakashi should start relocking the stairway if he was planning to make regular trips up here because the young male probably hadn’t had the roof in mind as a destination. Kakashi knows from experience that, unless you were injured or a member of staff, there were few good reasons to wander around a hospital at odd hours.

With the hero-student distracted sniffling into his arm, Kakashi slips around the door and back down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on applying the seal on the roof anyway. Too exposed to the elements and the concrete was too rough for the delicate line work.

He continues mixing while he walks, having mentally mapped the hospital well enough to know which hallways to use and which to avoid. There is a surgeon with some sort of heat-sensing vision who works late most nights that he must be careful around and a nurse with a weak proximity based empathic ability working in paediatrics. Both obstacles force him to take a meandering detour on his way to the ground floor and the larger shower blocks which housed cubicles the size of small rooms. Enough smooth floorspace for the expanded seal design and easy to clean afterwards. He supposes he is lucky, some complicated fuinjutsu required several meters worth of floor space. The containment on Saskue’s cursed seal comes to mind and he is glad that this seal is infinity smaller.

Not one to waste time knowing that nurses and patients regularly used the space even this late in the evening, he immediately slips into a cubicle upon arrival. Flopping onto the floor he pulls out the paintbrush he had had scour the hospital for and eventually to steal from the children’s ward. Carefully, he begins the slow process of application.

…

The final seal design is circular, about the size of his splayed hand, positioned on his uninjured shoulder just above where his Anbu seal had previously sat. The sleepwear provided by the hospital had sleeves that extend just past his bicep. It hid the design, for the most part. The final visible seal is a bit bigger than he had predicted or planned for. If this were a proper infiltration mission, where blowing his cover came at the price of death, he would be in big trouble. If this were a proper mission, he would have waited before applying this. An unnecessary risk. He itches the back of his head, turning from where he is craning his neck to see the seal, gathering up his supplies to be thrown in one of the hospital’s many rubbish bins. Kakashi lets out a breath. Maybe, this whole ‘trapped in a different world’ thing is affecting him more than he was willing to admit and making him sloppy.

He pulls down the sleeve so it mostly hides the design. Not like the doctors here would recognise the significance of fuinjutsu, he reminds himself, even if their questions would be annoying to deflect.

He pumps chakra into the seal and a jolt akin to lightning runs down his limb. It activates without issue and Kakashi grimaces as his chakra is slowly drained and collected. The rate of the drain is pathetically slow. Three years too slow. But, between this and his sharingan - which was always active and draining chakra- he can’t risk making it quicker. Despite the relatively low-level threats around him, Kakashi is, first and foremost, a Jonin in an unknown territory who is already taking risks simply making and applying the seal. He can’t afford to impair himself with poor chakra management on top of everything else.

Kakashi pops his head out of the cubical, scanning the shower block. Nothing of note has changed and he darts out, intent on returning to his room. He is tired and it would be a long, tiresome week as his body adjusted to the strain as well.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #naruto #CrossOver #dimension travel AU #hatake kakashi #kakashi headcanons #cultural shock #Iida makes a breif cameo #fanfiction #my hero academia #plot continues to move at a glacial pace

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t100ficrecsblog · 4 years

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an interview with @changingthefairy-tale

What are you working on right now? Right now, I’m focused on BellarkeFic-for-BLM (I just got an amazing canon prompt I’m really excited to finish). I’ve also been participating in this round of the Chopped Challenge, which has been fun and challenging. In between prompts, I’ve got two WIPs that I’m slowly cranking through. Shoutout to every single reader who’s been incredibly patient while I’ve been so slow on those updates — though, reminder that you can donate to a BLM organization (even a $3 donation works) and request an update to get those higher on my prio list while I’m focused on that initiative.

What’s something you’d like to write one day? My absolute dream job and the ultimate goal is to become a showrunner for a prime time TV show. I love TV shows — I love the way actors and directors and crew take a script and breath life into it, I love how you take a general idea for a story and mold it into something amazing as you go, I love how a series gives a story more time to be fleshed out and explored, I love the concept of a writers room and collaborating on a story. It’s a different ballgame from fic writing (which I do for fun) and travel writing (which I do for a living), but I’m determined to make it happen. JRoth, I’m coming for your job, babe. 😉

What is the fanwork you’re most proud of? I’m still really new to fic writing, especially compared to some of the powerhouse writers in this fandom. And I’m sure one of my WIPs (when finished) will probably supersede this. BUT, my one-shot about Madi calling Bellamy on The Ring (She called you for 2,199 days) is something I’m really proud of. I’m a long-winded writer, so one-shots have never come naturally to me. This one just…clicked. It’s got some good lines in there that I’m proud of, and based on the feedback I’ve gotten, it really made readers feel something and connect to the story. It’s not my longest story or my most thought-out. But it shows my growth as a writer these past few months, and I’m proud of that.

Why did you first start writing fic? I started writing fic as a creative outlet for my writing. My day job is writing about travel and credit cards. And while I enjoy that, it’s just not as creative. My dream is to write for a TV show though, and I was craving a way to flex my creative writing muscles in a low-stress way. I started watching The 100 when it first came out, but I didn’t really get into the fandom until I came back to the show during the S5/6 hiatus. That’s when I started reading fics and reblogging stuff about the show on Tumblr. During the S6/7 hiatus, I had this idea for a Greys Anatomy AU, and my sister (who is also a major fan of the show) was like, “You literally write things for a living. If you want to write a Grey’s AU for t100, there is absolutely nothing stopping you.” I published my first chapter on that The Choices We Make in Dec. 2019, and the rest is history.

What frustrates you most about fic writing? For me, I think that the most frustrating thing isn’t even about fic writing itself; it’s the fact that it’s a side-hobby and not something I can dedicate my full attention to. When you write all day for your day job, then do some for your freelance gig, and then turn around and try to write for a few hours every night for fic… that gets hard sometimes — especially since starting quarantine where I’m not traveling, going out with friends, getting a break from it, etc. Fic writing is a creative release for me, and I absolutely love crafting and writing these stories that involve some of my favorite fictional characters. And I love interacting with other writers and fic readers, I love talking about ideas and exchanging headcanons and fangirling over my favorite writers’ works. But (because there’s always a but), sometimes I just don’t have the mental energy or capacity to write at the end of the day when I’ve turned in 3 deadlines for work. I’ve got all these ideas floating in my head, but only so much time and mental energy I can dedicate to it.

What are your top five songs right now? Oh boy. So I live alone, which means I’ve got either music or Netflix on in the background 24/7 because ya girl doesn’t like silence. I have a different playlist for different moods. I’ll share my fav song from each of those playlists. Lol Fvck Somebody by The Wrecks (On my “Summer state of mind” playlist for when I wanna dance it out in my kitchen like an idiot)

Don Quixote by Drapht (On @talistheintrovert’s “My Good Bitch Murphy” playlist for when I’m feeling *edgy*)

that way by Tate McRae (On my “Pandemic Jams” playlist bc I like angsty music and this song is a Bellarke MOOD)

Washington on Your Side from Hamilton (On my “Feeding my Broadway Obsession” playlist for when I wanna sing show tunes and plot overthrowing the government)

Tea by Noah Davis (Shameless plug for Noah bc it’s a bop and I literally dated Noah’s older brother in junior high — so proud of this kid for making his dreams a reality)

What are your inspirations (books, songs, other fic, really good cake)? All of the above, except I like pie more than cake. lol But really, I kind of use everything around me for inspiration. “The Choices We Make” is inspired by my love of Grey’s Anatomy. “Intertwining your soul (with somebody else)” is inspired my the first draft of my YA novel (though the setting was adapted to a grounder canonverse AU). “The Day He Shut That Rocket Door” and “She called you for 2,199 days” were inspired by @historyofbellarke‘s headcanons that were brought up in S7 speccing conversations (shoutout to her for enabling my angsty ass). My most recent WIP “There are some things written in the stars” that I started as part of Chopped (but will continue because I’m obsessed with the idea) is inspired by my love of Timeless. And I have an entire Notion database filled with fic ideas — some one-shots and some multi-chapter fics — that are inspired by quotes, songs, conversations with friends, books I love, shows I adore, random HCs that pop into my head while I watch, my own life experiences, etc. I take inspiration in any form it decides to come in. 💕

What first attracted you to Bellarke? What attracts you now? I’m a ho for enemies to lovers — the idea that you can put your worst foot forward and show someone all the ugly parts of you… and that they’ll see that and somehow look past it to see the good stuff too, falling in love with your whole self instead of just the pretty parts. Yeah, it’s my favorite romance trope. And that tension is what originally drew me to Bellarke. Now, it’s a combination of things. I love each of these characters in their own right. I relate to Clarke in a lot of ways, and I aspire to be her level of badass. I straight adore Bellamy Blake (flaws, stupid decisions, and all) and would marry him in a heartbeat if he were real — I’m not even kidding. lol But I also love their dynamic. They are partners, best friends, perfect compliments to the other. They see each other in a way no one else does, and they are the one person the other constantly risks everything for. They are both so driven by their responsibilities to their people, yet that all typically goes out the window the moment the other is at risk. I don’t believe in soulmates in real life, but it’s nice to get to believe in this fictional world that they are just made for each other.

BESIDES Bellarke, what character or pairing do you like best on t100? My favorite character besides Bellarke is John Murphy. His arc has been BY FAR the best on this show, going from that little shit in S1 to this “asshole we love” in the middle to now a true hero in this final season. And through it all Richard Harmon has been amazing to watch on screen.

My favorite pairing besides Bellarke is Linctavia. Yes, that ship is problematic in a lot of ways, but I still loved their dynamic. Lincoln helped Octavia navigate this new world that she was so desperate to be apart of while being mindful of her safety. And I thought they were a good match — he helped tame her fire without putting it out, and she helped challenge the way he was raised. Given time, I think they could have become one of the most stable and loving relationships on t100. Of course, that couldn’t happen because Jason needed Bell’s actions in 3A to have heartbreaking consequences, O to spiral for her own character journey, and whatever mess happened off-screen between Ricky and him. But they still remain my favorite ship aside from Bellarke.

Why did you decide to start writing for bellarkefic-for-blm? The second I saw that Sam was planning on doing this, I reached out to ask how I could help/write/be involved. The BLM movement is so important, and this is an amazing way for me to contribute while pursuing my passions. It’s a way for the fandom to get involved and do something good. And ultimately, this helps organizations that need donations. Shameless plug for everyone to please go check out the Bellarke Fic for BLM page — check out the many amazing writers and artists we have participating, and send in prompts. Most of us are allowing WIP chapter update requests, and there are a number of us (myself included) who are matching donations made! No donation is too small, and you’ll be supporting a movement that is a necessity in the U.S. and beyond.

What’s your writing process like? My mind is literal chaos, so I plan and outline like hell in order to make sense of everything. When I get an idea for a fic, it goes on my Notion database. Within Notion, I write down my inspiration for the idea, and a pretty in-depth summary of where I want the fic to go — dialogue ideas, any feelings/emotions I want to invoke, literally just a brain dump of all my ideas. From there, I’ll arrange that brain dumb into an outline. If it’s a one-shot, I’ll generally write the whole thing in the Notion doc. But multi-chapter fics will get a checklist within Notion for me to keep track of progress, and I’ll actually write the fic in Google Docs. I generally start writing from the beginning of a story, but if I get stuck or have an idea for a later scene, the fact that I’ve outlined heavily allows me to jump around as ideas come to me. I’ll read each one-shot or chapter after I’m done to make sure it flows before publishing. I post chapters for my WIPs as I write them, which I should really stop doing. lol For my readers’ sakes, I should work ahead and publish on a schedule rather than making them wait for my slow ass to finish chapter to chapter. But right now, that’s my process!

What are some things you’d like to recommend? Oh goodness, too many fics to possibly name. Instead, I’ll link to my AO3 rec bookmarks (which isn’t all-inclusive of the amazing fics I’ve read in this fandom, but it’s got some good favs in there) and shout out all of our awesome Bellarke Fic for BLM writers. Y’all should check out their work (and send in prompts)!

Where’s the best place to find you (twitter? tumblr?) I’m @changingthefairy-tale on Tumblr and @changingthefairy_tale on AO3! My ask box is always open for anyone who wants to scream about the show, ask about specs, talk about my fics, etc. Come say hey!

#bellarkefic for blm #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #john murphy #bellarke #bellarkefic for blm interviews

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queensparklekitten · 4 years

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An Incomplete List Of Things I Did In Quarantine Before We Went To The Cottage

-stayed up past 2am every single night

-spent entire class periods watching precure

-drank vanilla and instantly regretted it

-randomly wore the fanciest clothes i had

-found a cylinder of mesh fabric and wore it on my arm

-cut my nails into sharp claws which i have not done since i was 11

-tried to recreate aikatsu outfits using things like scarves, hair accessories not worn in my hair, long necklaces not worn as necklaces, extra shirts, washable marker tattoos, pieces of ribbon, etc.

-made SCP Foundation jokes constantly

-written this on the whiteboard calendar

-scared the hell out of my parents by playing minecraft ambient noises at night starting on minimum volume and getting gradually louder

-put a circle belt on my boobs (which resulted in this image)

-found out that free books online websites exist and impulse reread all of dear dumb diary

-woken up with my hand hurting and no clue why (happened again today)

-spent what probably amounts to weeks on end refusing to leave my room with all the lights out and curtains closed

-impulsively stabbed a cereal box with a serrated knife and then cut out a chunk of the box while there was still cereal in it

-imagined up very graphic scenarios and thought “wow my mind can go to fucked-up places”

-used a zoom call as a makeup mirror

-had a dream that ended with me curled up alone trapped in an empty cold leaky concrete room trying to sleep and hoping someone wound find me, and then been woken up by the neighbours’ toddler crying, and when i went back to sleep the dream continued like i was waking up still alone in that room, and after a few rounds of this, i caught on in the dream that i was dreaming, and while semi-conscious i intentionally kept myself in the dream and asked if, since this was a dream, could it have a better ending than me trapped alone in this cold, empty, leaky concrete room with nothing but my clothes and hoping someone would find me. then i gained control of the dream, and i changed the setting completely. now there was cookies and fluffy white something and hanging out with people and i wasn’t cold and it was much less hopeless. however, i lost the cute magical girl dress i had been wearing in the dream, and after i changed the setting, i lost the awareness and control i had previously had. it stayed that way until i woke up.

-sunbathed on the roof for over an hour in heart-shaped sunglasses and my moms made no attempt to get me off the roof because this was the first sun and fresh air i’d had in weeks

-started a spontaneous performance of Revenge in a zoom call

-stayed up all night writing a 7000+ word story without taking breaks or sleeping

-talked to my containers of mixed glitter as if they were my children

-drew the eye of providence on my hand in sharpie 3 times

-when my mom was leaving for the grocery store i said “it’s dangerous to go alone! take this” and handed her my toy sword

-wrote a song parody at 1am and made myself cry while writing the lyrics (posted an audio recording, link here)

-FINALLY showed my family Atlantis: The Lost Empire which i’ve wanted to do for years

-me and my brother threatened to knife fight each other and only stopped upon realizing neither of us knows a thing about knife fighting

-wore a slinky on my arm

-slept in past 9 every day and skipped breakfast every day as a result because it was closer to lunch, which became such a habit that recently i got woken up by accident before 9 and didn’t have breakfast

-there was a few instances where i stabbed myself with a safety pin in the middle of the night and kept it up until there was blood

-rewatched all of Willcraft Animations Monster School at 1:35am on a school night

-converted my favourite mobile game which shut down into a version with physical cutouts of the powerups, custom roulette wheels and dice which were substituted with random number generators and randomcolour.org because i did not have access to custom roulette wheels or dice, a lot of Keeping Track Of Things, and the villains becoming playable characters as it goes from match-3 to a full-on multiplayer VS battle. Can I just say it was fun as hell to come up with stats, skills, and star ratings for the ridiculous-looking CurePuz enemies.

-refused to participate in family movie nights and later watched that same movie by myself, several times

-freaked out my parents by standing there in a white dress in the dark holding a glowing book (the glow came from my phone hidden behind the book displaying the lyrics to Sis Puella Magica) and singing in Kaijuran

-went weeks without seeing the sun and when i first saw a sunny patch through the window it hurt my eyes (like, actually painful) because i was spending so much time in the dark in my room

-my mom spent a while thinking i was becoming a vampire

#quarantine compilation

7 notes · View notes

howlingday · 4 years

Text

REAPING OF ATLAS 2/3

RWBY Characters Are Created And Owned By Rooster Teeth And Monty Oum.

Team REAPS And All Original Characters In It's Universe Are Created And Owned By @dark-chocolate-fudge-sweetracer

"Are you sure they're okay? Acacia may have recovered physically, but emotionally and mentally-"

"They're fine, Professor Goodwitch," Arishna said in an irritable tone, "I know you love those kids, but I honestly think you're spoiling them too much. If you need someone to spoil-"

"Enough!" Glynda barked. Arishna loved it when she got stern and professional. It made her feel... What's the word? "I will not put those children into harm's way while they are still recovering. As for you, I suggest you take a cold shower every morning if you're going to be speaking so casually on the phone while in Atlas Academy. James may be strict, but he's even more so with inappropriate behavior under his guidance."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. It might be fun."

"Arishna..."

"Glynda, listen, if something does happen to those kids, you will be the first to hear it from me. I promise." A sigh on the other end was all Glynda could muster. "I love you."

"...I love you, too, Arishna. And if you need to tell someone before me, I understand. But I refuse to hear it from anyone else. Good day, Professor Dawn."

"And good night, Glynda." Arishna blew a kiss into the screen and hung up. She then heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm really sorry, Glyndie."

Arishna dialed another number into her scroll, and when it was answered, she spoke first. "Hey, it's me."

Prism took a deep breath as she entered the arena. It reminded her of Beacon, but with a few slight differences. Instead of Professor Goodwitch monitoring the sparring matches, it was a tall cyborg with a beard. Instead of numerous random classmates in the bleachers, it was her friends. Instead of Yang Xiao Long taunting and teasing her as she stood at side of the arena, it was an excessively boasting dog-faunus.

"Feel free to drop out at any time. I know I can be a handful from what my opponents tell me." Martow gloated with a sneer.

"What? The training dummies?" Marrow growled at her remark. Okay, scratch that. This will be the exact same as fighting Xiao Long.

"Are you ready?" Headmaster Ironwood called from above. When he saw neither competitor raise their hand, he nodded. "Begin!"

Marrow made the first move, throwing his boomerang, Fetch, at Prism. Prism reached into her bag and pulled out a few spheres. Once she had them in hand, she summoned a hardlight shield with her free hand. The boomerang bounced back into Marrow's hands, but the specialist had already closed the gap. He began swinging Fetch at the barrier, hoping his sword could cut through.

Prism ran around the barrier and threw a sphere at Marrow. Marrow blocked the ball with Fetch, but found himself soaked in water.

"What? Did you think it was a stink-bomb?" Prism asked. "How childish do you think I am?"

Marrow responded by shifting Fetch into a rifle and began firing on Prism. She dove to the side, summoning a hardlight barrier, then rolled another sphere towards Marrow. The specialist jumped away as it rolled towards him, and blasted it with Fetch. He then gripped his nose at the foul odor exploding from the globe.

"Yeah, that's right! I do have a stink-bomb!" Prism gloated as she closed the gap between them. She began swinging at him with her chakram, and he was forced to go on the defensive with Fetch in it's rifle form, as he needed both hands to shift it into a boomerang and one hand was preoccupied covering his nose.

Marrow kicked Prism away and pointed at her with Fetch. "Stay!"

Prism was stuck in place as Marrow lowered his weapon and walked over and snatched the remaining orb from her hand. "Too bad, kid! I warned you guys I was on another level, but you didn't listen." He tossed the ball into the air and caught it. "You got some fancy tech, but it won't always save you. Maybe if spent less time hiding behind these toys, you might learn that-!"

"Unidentified print has been detected and scanned for 1-0 seconds."

Marrow looked around confused. "Who said that?"

"Initiating self-destruct sequence of cryo-core."

The little orb in Marrow's palm hissed as it released a super cold gas into the air, freezing itself to his palm. As Marrow shook it around, Prism slowly regained her movement. His clothes, soaked from the splash of her first device, iced over until he was trapped in his own clothing.

Prism reached over and pressed a finger to the globe. "Prometheus." The gas ceased and the orb shut itself once more.

"Self-destruct sequence deactivated."

"Next time," Prism reeled back and allowed her gauntlet to build up power, "don't touch my things!" She launched her fist forward and punched Marrow in his mouth. The dog was sent crashing to the ground.

Headmaster Ironwood raised his hand. "I've seen enough. I declare Prism Asagiri the victor in this bout. However, don't let Marrow's advice fall on deaf ears. You may one day find yourself in a position where your technology may fail you."

"Says the guy whose pet Paladin almost killed us." Prism scoffed and muttered under her breath.

"And Marrow, once again, your boastful attitude and underestimation of your opponent led to your loss in this round. Perhaps I should have Specialist Bree take you under her wing in how a specialist should act?"

"Damn it, Wags!" Harriet cursed, "Once again, you lost and I have to pay for it!"

Prism climbed the steps and found her seat next to Acacia. As Sandy passed her on her way down, they high-fived and Prism wished her good luck. Prism decided now was a good time to gloat.

"Did you see my babies and I out there? We kicked some serious butt!"

A chuckle behind her caught her off-guard. Specialist Bree sat behind her with her arms crossed. "Don't get so cocky, kid. Marrow may be a specialist, but he only just joined us. He's more bark than bite. Honestly, I should be thanking you for knocking him down a peg. He's been getting too big for his britches, if you ask me."

"And if you ask me, you should treat your teammates with a little more respect." Elm scolded. "Especially someone more junior than yourself!"

"Besides, if I remember correctly, there was a rather skittish Harriet Bree once who was so excited for her first day, she forgot to wear pants to her briefing!" Clover laughed with Elm as Harriet blushed and avoided looking at her teammates. "But enough about that. Besides, it looks like Vine's match is about to begin.

Vine stood perfectly still with his eyes closed and his palms touching in meditation. Sandy didn't know how to wake him up, or whatever it is you do to get someone out of meditation. Was he waiting for Ironwood? What was she supposed to do?

"So-"

"You are quick to act and quite impatient." Sandy nearly jumped as her opponent finally spoke. "The outcome of a battle can be determined by only the first move. If you move first, you declare your strategy to your opponent, making it easy to counter. But if you choose to counter, your opponent may be too fast for you to react."

"Uh, I guess." Sandy replied. Did he want to chat before the fight started? Why?

"And what do you think will happen if you win?"

"Well, I guess I just go back to my seat and wait for everyone to be done."

"What if that's not the case? What if you only manage to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat? What if you must be sent to the medical wing?" When Sandy had no answer, Vine continued. "Tell me," Vine offered his hand as he spoke, "what is the purpose of Huntsmen and Huntresses?"

"Uh, to kill Grimm, right?"

"Why is that?"

"Uh, well, if we don't, the Grimm will kill everyone and destroy everything."

"And if we kill the Grimm, and eradicate them for good, what then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are we no longer Huntsmen? Do we disband now that the threat of Grimm is eradicated?"

"Well, no-" Sandy paused. "I mean-" She paused again. As she pondered, Vine turned around and walked back up the steps. "Hey!" Sandy chased after him. "Where are you going?!"

"I see no reason for us to fight." Vine explained. "Therefore, I forfeit."

"But-"

"Vine Zeki has forfeited the match. Therefore, Sandy Mithril is the victor!" Headmaster Ironwood boomed from above. "All contestants, please return to your seats!"

Sandy was left standing dumbstruck, then slunked her way back up to her seat, where she slumped into her chair.

"Hey, you okay?" Reizo asked. No response.

"Look on the bright side," Echidna smiled, "at least you won without breaking a sweat!" Unfortunately, her words of encouragement only yielded a groan of disapproval.

"Don't beat yourself up, kid." Elm said "Vine isn't the kind of guy to fight for the sake of fighting. He'd rather talk things out than duke it out." Her gaze shifted from Sandy to Acacia. "Don't go thinking I'm the same, though. You'll actually be giving it your all against me!" She then made her way down the stairs toward the arena.

Acacia gulped.

Acacia made her way down the steps to the arena. She stopped on the final step and took a deep breath to calm herself down. "You're gonna be fine," she told herself, "it's just a practice round. They just want to see where you are in your training. It's not going to be like last time with the Paladin." After one last calming breath, Acacia stepped into the arena.

"There you are!" Elm exclaimed. "I was worried you got cold feet. You good to fight?"

Acacia gave a cocky smile as she scoffed. "You kidding? I'm good as good gets!"

Elm smiled at that. "That's great to hear! Now let's see you back it up!"

"Are you ready?" General Ironwood called from above.

"Always ready, sir!" Elm called back, tightening her grip on Timber.

"Then let us..." General Ironwood kept the long pause for dramatic effect, then exclaimed, "Begin!"

Acacia rushed forward with her tonfas and swung at Elm, who blocked with Timber's shaft. Acacia swung three more times, then ducked and weaved to Elm's side, getting in a good few hits, before jumping back to avoid a retaliating swing.

Acacia jumped forward to continue her assault, but Elm was dodging this time, instead of blocking. Was she trying to put space between them? Acacia didn't let up on her swings, but was so focused on Elm's front that she wasn't paying attention to behind her, as Elm moved Timber to her other hand behind her back. Elm swung low and tripped Acacia, causing her to fall on her back.

Acacia was a little dazed, but still too slow to recover. Elm planted a boot on Acacia's stomach and used Roots to pin her down. Elm shifted Timber to it's rocket launcher mode and pointed down at the trapped girl. She'd probably struggle a little before giving up and calling the match.

But she didn't.

When Elm looked down, she was shocked by what she saw. Acacia was struggling, yes, but less like, "Oh no, I'm pinned," and more like a rabbit caught in a rope trap. Acacia was scrambling, tears flowing out of her eyes and down her cheeks like a river. She began punching Elm's as hard as she could, grunting in desperation. She was helpless.

"Hey, kid?" Acacia looked up to see her opponent wearing a look of concern on her face. "You good?"

Acacia calmed down a little bit, realizing the boot wasn't as heavy as the Paladin's. Her breathing became less rapid, and finally gave a calming breath. She then chuckled. "I guess I lose, huh?"

Elm chuckled with her. "Yeah, I guess so!" Elm removed Roots and stepped off of Acacia and offered her a hand. "You wanna try again?"

Acacia sighed. "No. Not yet." She walked back towards the steps, up to her seat. "You win."

"Acacia Evergreen has forfeited the match! The victor is Elm Ederne!" General Ironwood roared from above. "Both contestants, please return to your seats."

Acacia sighed as she sat next to Prism. That was disappointing. Nothing quite like a panic attack during a sparring match to kill your shot at graduating early.

"Hey, you okay?" Acacia opened her eyes to see her entire team swarmed around her. Echidna was holding her left hand, while Prism held her right, with Sandy standing in front of her and Reizo kneeling next to her. Acacia's face flushed at all this attention she was getting.

"Uh, I-!"

"Children, please! Give Acacia some space!" Everyone stepped away as Reizo's mother glared at her new students. Acacia shivered. She hadn't seen a glare like hers since Professor Goodwitch. This professor, however, softened her expression to one fitting for a mother such as hers as she spoke gently. "Are you okay, dear?"

"Uh, yeah, I just-"

"Oh, will you quit coddling them!" Acacia almost got whiplash after turning her head so quickly. Specialist Ederne sat down next to Acacia where Echidna once was. When did that happen? "The kid's fine; just had a little scare, that's all. Right, kid?" She finished with a wink towards her.

"Yeah, I'm, uh... I'm good."

"See? She's fine. Besides, if she wasn't, Vine would be more than happy to do some meditating with her after her classes. Ain't that right, Vine?" Vine wasn't paying attention. In fact, he looked like he was meditating just so he didn't have to respond. "See?"

Acacia cleared her throat. "Yeah. I'll, uh, I'll hold you guys to it."

"Great! Now it's time for Harriet's match! You're gonna love this. She might be the most hot-headed, but she's also the most talented of us, too." Specialist Ederne leaned down to whisper. "Uh, but don't tell her I said that."

Echidna and Harriet made it to their places in the arena at the same time. They didn't take their eyes off of each other once they saw their opponent at the bottom of their stairs.

"Feel free to drop out at any time, princess." Specialist Bree teased. Echidna knew her foe wouldn't hold anything back, so neither should she. "I can tell you're scared. I bet your heart is thumping in that dainty little chest of yours."

Echidna scoffed at the claim. Talking back to her would just distract her. She simply took her stance with her staff in front of her.

"Not gonna talk, huh? Alright! I can respect that." Specialist Bree donned Fast Knuckles and took a boxing stance, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I'm ready when you are!"

Ironwood waited a moment, seeing the combatants were already taking stances. "Begin!"

Specialist Bree launched herself at Echidna, and kicked at her staff. Echidna gripped her staff tightly and used the force of the kick to spin herself, using her momentum to swing her staff as she spun and attempted to strike her opponent's head. Specialist Bree ducked with a cocky smirk, however, and swung her legs out to catch Echidna in the legs. Echidna jumped, however, with a cocky smirk of her own, as a wave of water crashed into Specialist Bree, sending her rolling along the floor.

"Where the hell-?!" Specialist Bree saw Echidna removing her gloves to reveal fins.

"I can use my aura to create water and manipulate it." Echidna explained as water rolled off her fins in small droplets. "I was waiting for a chance to show this off to my team before starting school, so I guess now is as good a time as any." Echidna then put her hand up to her lips. "Oh! But I'm getting ahead of myself! Do you need a towel?"

Specialist Bree growled and punched the floor, cracking it a little. "No, but you're gonna need an ice pack when I'm done with you!"

Echidna split her staff in two as she readied herself for another frontal assault. She must have blinked because Specialist Bree was suddenly gone!

"Heads up, kid!" Echidna jumped back and looked up as Specialist Bree came down like a comet, shattering the flooring of the arena. But there was no time for her to rest as Specialist Bree disappeared again. A blur out of the corner of her left eye forced her to spin to left, just in time to catch Specialist Bree launching at her again. Echidna tried to dodge, but was caught in the shoulder by a foot from the specialist. This victory for the specialist was short lived as Echidna was able to grip her ankle with a claw from one end on her baton.

Echidna yanked on the chain attached and forced Specialist Bree to the ground with a splash. She looked around and noticed the space they were fighting in had become a large puddle of water. Echidna held out her hands in front of her and flattened her palms upwards, then slowly raised her hands up.

Specialist Bree kicked her leg back, but found there was enough slack in the chain to not bother Echidna. "Damn it!"

"Enough!" Ironwood barked from above. "Harriet Bree is the victor of this bout." With those words, Echidna gasped as she fell to her knees. "I feel I don't need to explain the importance of aura conservation, do I, Miss Bluewaters?" Echidna breathed heavily, feeling drained from her trick. Her plan was sound, she thought, but she had no idea how much aura it required.

"Hey, you need a hand?" Echidna looked up to see Specialist Bree offering her hand. She took it, but found it uneasy to stand. "Woah! Easy now!" Specialist Bree moved Echidna's hand over her shoulders as they walked up the steps. "Not bad, kid! But try not to burn yourself out next time."

Echidna sighed. "Thanks."

Echidna yawned as she settled into her seat. She hadn't expended that much aura since that Beringel mission. She looked to her left and saw Reizo's mother watching the arena with intensity. It made sense to Echidna, since her son (currently daughter) was now up to bat. Reizo was their leader, and for good reason as she understood. He wasn't as smart as Prism, nor as spirited as Sandy, or as tough as Acacia, and certainly wasn't as socially graceful as herself, but Reizo had something that made him different from the others.

"Up next is Clover. Ten Lien says the kid won't last a minute!" Specialist Amin boasted.

"I'll take you on that bet!" Specialist Bree exclaimed. "No way Clover will lose against someone so green!"

"50 Lien that the kid makes it to 10 minutes." Specialist Ederne pitched in.

"I'm certain Clover wouldn't approve of wanton gambling." Specialist Zeku opined.

"Come on, Reizo," Echidna wearily thought as she closed her eyes, "prove them wrong."

"It's not too late to back out, you know." Specialist Ebi reasoned. "We can just have you start all over again. There's no shame in going back to square one."

"Will my friends be with me?" Reizo asked as she gripped her katana's pommel.

"Well, we can't guarantee anything. I've seen at least one of them ready for the next level."

"Then my answer is no." Reizo drew her sword from it's sheath. "It's either all of us, or none of us."

"Okay, but I tried." Specialist Ebi submitted with a shrug. He then waved to above them. "Hey, we're ready down here!"

General Ironwood nodded. "Then let the final battle begin!"

Reizo wasted no time as she charged with her blade up and at her side. She swung with one hand, but missed entirely as Specialist Ebi leaned back. Reizo recovered by swinging back the other way at a diagonal angle, but the specialist leader simply stepped back. Reizo decided on a new approach and thrusted her katana into her opponent.

Her mother gasped at the direct hit to his chest. Reizo pressed forward and pushed him back. Specialist Ebi laughed as he flicked his badge.

"Not bad, kid," he exclaimed, "if I weren't so lucky, I'd have to get an early retirement!" He then reached for his weapon at his side. "But now that I know you're going for the kill," Specialist Ebi extended Kingfisher, "I don't need to hold back, do I?"

Reizo began her charge again, but the specialist leader launched the hook from Kingfisher out and snagged her sleeve. He reeled in the hook with a tug, forcing Reizo into a spin. After steadying herself, Reizo looked forward in time to see Specialist Ebi throwing a punch at her. She twisted her body to avoid him and swung up at his exposed arm, but Kingfisher's rod had caught the blow and knocked the sword to the side.

'Time for a new plan.' Reizo thought as she sheathed her katana, inserting a lightning and a fire dust coin into the blade's coin slots before it was fully in. She then attempted to goad her opponent closer with a taunting of her free hand. He just smiled and obliged by walking forward, unafraid of her. When he was within feet of her, Reizo drew her blade as quickly as she could, catching Kingfisher in her path. Flames roared and electricity crackled as she pressed forward into her foe. Specialist Ebi simply pushed her back and tugged on his reel. Was it upside down?

Reizo was sent to the ground on her back. She tried to get up, but the specialist leader was already on top of her, with a boot on her wrist and forcing her to let go of her katana.

"You done?" Specialist Ebi asked. Reizo blew her hair out of her face.

"Yeah. I'm done."

"You have all performed admirably. You have proven that your skills have not diminished since the Fall." Ironwood paced before the students with the Ace-Ops standing behind him. "However, it should be noted that you all still have a ways to go before you can become fully licensed Huntsmen. As such, I have decided, if you will allow me, to enroll all of you into Atlas Academy as third year students."

The five glanced at each other, each taking their time to silently judge the expressions of the other. Once Reizo recieved a nod from the other girls, she stood up and cleared her throat. "All of us, headmaster?"

"Yes." Ironwood answered immediately. "I feel you children have more that proved yourselves beyond the capabilities of first year students of Beacon, and with only one more year of proper education, I see no issue with you five becoming Huntsmen."

Reizo looked back to her team, whom all smiled back at her. Reizo nodded and faced the Headmaster once more. "Yes, Headmaster Ironwood. We'll do you proud!"

"Excellent!" Ironwood smiled. "Then allow me to once again welcome you to Atlas." He then turned to speak with Reizo's mother. "Professor Yamato. If you would be so kind, please escort our new students to their dorms."

"Of course, Headmaster." Reizo's mother extended her arm towards the exit as she spoke to her new students. "If you will follow me, I will escort you to your dorm rooms, where you can all get settled in."

Ironwood smiled as he watched his new students leave, taking their first steps towards serving their community, and making humanity better as a whole. A buzz on his scroll interrupted his thoughts. He reached down and looked at the screen, sighing as he read the contact. What did Cordovin want this time?

"Ah! Sweet comfort!" Prism sighed as she sunk into the bliss of her new mattress, sighing contentedly after a three hour "detour" to the dorm room, in which Reizo's mother took the liberty of explaining not only the hundreds of different rooms and their uses, but the history of Atlas Academy as well. This heaven was interrupted by Echidna grabbing her leg.

"Hey! We were going to vote on who slept in what bed!"

"And I vote for this bed. All in favor? Aye! All oppose?"

"Nay!" Echidna shouted.

"The motion remains unchanged. It's my bed." Prism heaved a sigh of delight. "I love democracy."

As the two argued, Acacia and Sandy looked over the new uniforms, already in their closets. Acacia felt the interior, the wool scratching against her palm, and then the surface, which felt like cotton. Acacia smiled, glad to know Atlas was mindful of both it's freezing temperatures and high altitude, neither of which made the pit viper poltergeist feel comfortable. Damn her reptilian traits!

"Ugh! Do they only have steel gray?" Sandy complained. "At least Beacon's uniforms had style."

"I'm sure they have smoke gray in stock if you'd like," Acacia joked, "or if you'd prefer, I'm sure they can get you a very, very, very light black, or a very, very, very, very, very, very dark white." Sandy and Acacia giggled at the jest.

Reizo steeped out of the bathroom, wearing a towel around her torso. She stood for a moment, watching her team. Prism was annoying Echidna, Acacia and Sandy were laughing and making jokes, and she felt left out. It really was just like Beacon.

Reizo walked to her bag, which she assumed were brought up by Atlas staff while she was fighting for the amusement of her new, stoic overlord. She hummed in thought as she got dressed. Third year students, but not graduates?

Was he not entertained?

A knock on the door broke her thoughts. "Just a second!" Reizo called as she put on her new uniform. Wool? What kind of sadist makes a scratchy wool uniform?!

Another knock followed. Once Reizo was dressed, Acacia answered the door, as she was the closest. Behind the door was Professor Yamato stood in the doorway, smiling and waving.

"Good afternoon, everyone! I hope you have all settled in now." The in-fighting over one of the bunks informed her of the contrary. "Ah, I see. Is there a problem I can resolve?"

Before Reizo could speak, a new, yet familiar voice spoke on her behalf.

"Ah, it's fine, Mrs. Y! These kids are just that close, y'know?" The infighting stopped as all five students rushed into the hallway to meet the voice of their former professor, Arishna Dawn. "Yo! Remember me?"

"It's Professor Goodwitch's girlfriend!" Sandy cried. An icy chill ran through Professor Dawn as her fellow professor gave her a wary glance.

"Oh, really?" Professor Mom inquired. "So you had faculty romantically involved with one another at Beacon, eh?"

"Well, I mean, it started before-"

"No, she was a Teacher's Assistant when we started." Echidna explained. "She only became a professor just before the Vytal Festival."

"Oh, so not only was it a romantic relationship, but a case of fraternization as well?" Professor Dawn scrambled for an explanation as she squirmed in place under the judging eyes of her superior. "My, my! The things Beacon got away with when I'm not watching."

"No, you got it all wrong!" Professor Dawn shouted with eyes shut. It became silent. That wasn't a good sign. She opened an eye and was petrified by the steely gaze of her senior.

"Oh? Then please, do explain how your relationship with a supervisory faculty member began."

"Well,not now, here, in front of the students!" Professor Dawn excused.

"Very well." Professor Dawn sighed in relief at her senior's decision. "Students, please excuse us. I must speak with Professor Dawn in private. Reizo, I expect to see your team in class at 7 AM tomorrow!"

"Yes, mom! Er, I mean, Ma'am!"

"Just Professor is fine." She then turned and walked away, dragging Professor Dawn by the collar. "Now, about this fraternization..."

"Help me!" Professor Dawn cried.

Reizo almost felt bad for her. Almost, but not enough to save her from her mother.

A week had passed for Team REAPS much like Beacon. The first two days crawled, but by the third day, they finally got the hang of it. The fourth day couldn't have ended fast enough because it was Friday.

Prism practically blasted from one class to the other like she was shot out of a cannon (and in one class, she did), and she inhaled her lunch. Literally. She had a vacuum device connected between her mouth and her plate, and she had the blades pull her food into them and sent the slush and mush of food products into her mouth.

Acacia and Sandy said it was the most amazing thing they'd ever seen.

Echidna held back the urge to vomit by a hair.

Reizo just sat there.

The day winded down from there, and at the final bell, Prism ran to her room and packed her bag for an overnight trip. Juice, snacks, a change of clothes, a spare lug nut and wrench set, oil. Y'know, the essentials.

"You have your scroll?" Acacia asked.

"Yup!" Prism answered.

"Is it charged?" Sandy inquired.

"Mhm!"

"Did you call ahead to the... Polyester guy?" Reizo asked, half for comfort, half for clarity.

"Doctor Pietro Polendina, and yes!" Prism huffed. "He sent me his address and told me he would be expecting me."

"You aren't going to cause trouble?" Echidna interrogated.

"Guys, I said I would be fine! You're just being worrywarts for nothing!" Prism whined, then followed up with a hug. "But thanks, guys. I appreciate it."

"Call us when you're on your way back, okay?" Reizo said.

"Or if you get into trouble." Echidna added.

Prism smiled. "I will. Don't be a stranger!" Prism left, shaking at the thought of meeting a brilliant mind like Doctor Polendina. How lucky was she?

'What a dump!' Prism thought as she stood before a run-down building. She checked her scroll again to make sure this was indeed the right place. Yeah, it matched. It also matched a public service amount she watched at Beginner school about walking home alone.

Prism cautiously approached the door and rapped her knuckle against it twice, then jumped a few feet back. A television screen flared to life, but the feed was scrambled and all Prism could see was static.

"Yes?" A voice inquired. It didn't sound like the doctor, but then again, the screen has a bad case of static. Was it age or weather? Since Mantle relied on subterranean dust lines running under buildings and street curbs, Prism thought the former was more likely. "And you are?"

Prism cleared her throat. "Prism Asagiri, from Atlas? I spoke earlier this week to Doctor Polendina and I was told to come to this address by him. Is he there?"

"Oh, yes. Give me a moment." The screen went dead and Prism took another step back. If it was a creep, she'd run. If it was some Grim in disguise, she'd kill it, then run. She made more plans in her head as the door unlocked. The doors opened, revealing a silhouette of something large, but not tall, standing on four, inhuman legs. "Ms. Asagiri?" A familiar voice called.

Prism gulped. "Yes?" The creature stepped out of the doors, the street lights revealing not a Grimm, but a dark-skinned, heavy-set, elderly man with a gray, bushy beard in a green sweater-vest. He was sitting in a large, iron seat with spider legs. "Doctor Polendina?"

"Please, call me Pietro." He said. "Come in, I don't want you catching your death of cold out here!"

Never judge a book by it's cover. That was a lesson Prism was taught time and time again. What's that; a shiny ball? Nope, it's a sub-sonic shotgun! Let me guess; a Grimm with fins? Nope, they're glider wings! Okay, I got it, it's an abandoned building with deviants of every variety inside, right? Three strikes, bud, because this is actually a super-science lab!

Prism walked around in awe as Doct- Pietro gave her a tour of his lab. Well, not so much a tour as him trying to explain things like funding, research grants, and doctoral dissertations, only for Prism to interrupt by gasping shouting, "What's that?!" every ten minutes. She would then apologize and ask that he continue.

But a new voice interrupted them this time.

"Doctor? Are you well? Sporadic gasping is often a symptom of illnesses such as-"

"Whoa!" Prism jumped. "What was that?!"

"Oh, that's that little passion project I was telling you about." Pietro answered. "You remember the Fall of Beacon, correct?"

"I tend to have recurring nightmares of it now and then, yes." Prism said plainly.

Pietro was silent for a moment. "...Yes. Er, apologies for bringing up bad memories."

"Oh, it's no problem! Go on!"

"Well, of the many casualties, including civilians, Huntsmen, students, White Fang, and so on, one of my creations was also grievously damaged."

"Which one was it? Was it the Atlesian flagship? The Knights? The Paladins?"

"No, no. Nothing so violent. In fact, quite the contrary: she was my greatest creation because of her learning ability, not her combat capabilities."

"Wait, you don't mean-" Pietro pressed a button a nearby shelf, and a prototype for a new car seat belt, and the counter it was sitting on, spun into the wall, and out came a red-haired girl's head, surrounded by other body parts. "Penny?!"

"Sal-u-tations, Friend Prism!" Penny cheered. "I hope you are finding Atlas well!"

"Oh, good! You know each other." Pietro sighed in relief. "That will save some time."

"But, how?! I saw-! We all saw-!" With each failed sentence, Prism gestured wildly with her arms at Penny. Pietro chuckled.

"Allow me to explain."

"So, that's it, huh? Penny is stuck as a head until she gets a new source of aura?" Prism summed up. "Not surprising, since she barely had aura left from her pieces."

"Not exactly. It's not a new source she needs, but a conduit and a new body to contain it. Unfortunately, Ironwood and his researchers need all the funding they can get, and I can forget about asking the SDC. Too may questions and too few morals to understand my answers."

"So she needs a new body, huh?" Prism asked with a smile. "Say, I never got to show you my babies, huh?"

"Your babies?" Pietro eyed her warily as he asked.

"Yup, like this!" Prism proceeded to pull out six massive, in-tact blueprints for her new weapon designs. She then pulled out two, massive swords, then an obscenely large hammer. "Uh, do you get it, or should I stop and actually explain?"

"Uh, I feel an explanation would suffice. Is this your semblance?"

"Oh, no! This is my semblance!" Prism clapped her hands together, then pulled them apart, creating and expanding a small barrier of hard-light between her palms. "I can create flat, hard-light structures with my semblance. Once I started developing my semblance, I decided to figure out the physics of it and started inventing devices powered by it."

"I see. So, you intend to create a conduit and body using hard-light technology?"

"Something like that, but first, I have to ask you something." Prism shot him a smile. "Do you mind if I build something in here? Just to make it easier for us to work together."

Pietro smiled. That was all the answer she needed.

Reizo laid back in her bed, reading over the new strategies she came up with. Her match against the Specialist Leader was sobering, to say the least. She had bested opponents without Copy before, but never one of this caliber. She needed to get stronger.

She closed her eyes and thought back to the day before, and the lesson the professor was giving. "A chain is only as strong as it's weakest link." Who was the weakest link? She felt like garbage for even thinking it, but it was a thought every leader had. Or, that's the excuse she gave herself.

Prism was the first fight, and the best result yet. But, like the General Headmaster said, it was less her own skill and more so the incompetence of her opponent. Either way, Prism still performed admirably.

Sandy's "fight" was also an interesting event. Sandy "fought" without lifting a finger. She "fought" an opponent with more combat experience. In the end, she lost her "fight". One thing that was clear, though, was that a Huntsman was more than just a warrior. A Huntsman was also a negotiator and, at times, a political tool, an ideal or standard to be upheld, idolized, and viewed by non-Huntsmen. Reizo sighed.

She hated politics.

Speaking of politics, though, Echidna, the daughter of "the better White Fang" (her words), crossed her mind. Her fight was incredible. An excellent use of her semblance and weapon. She really gave Specialist Bree a run for her money. But she still lost because of her using too much aura. Aura training was important, as well as physical training. If only there were a way to use her semblance without expending so much aura. Maybe if she already had water around her, instead of creating it from her body?

Reizo then thought of her final teammate, Acacia. She fought hard, but the battle was over the second she was pinned. Acacia was still recovering, it seems. Not surprising, since you don't just get over almost dying under six tons of heavy metal in a single night. It still presented a problem, since being pinned is not an anomaly in a fight.

Reizo sighed and shook her head. She got up and walked into the bathroom. She shut the door and made her way to do her business. Business? Ha! That was a good one. Like this would fly in an office job. She chuckled at the idea.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, really." Reizo answered. "I was just thinking about-" Reizo's words died on her lips. Standing in front of her, just ten feet away, was Prism, with grease on her face and a smile on her lips. She looked up to see the teleporter attached to the ceiling.

"About what?" Prism asked, walking over to the sink to wash her hands of the grime accumulated on them.

"How did you get in here?!" Reizo screeched.

"Teleporter. Duh! Remember?" Prism answered as she turned towards the towels.

"Why in the bathroom?!" Reizo was red in the face earlier before, but now it felt like it was on fire with rage.

"Because," Prism began, turning towards her throne-bound leader, "there wasn't any... room... in our..." Prism's face became red, and she turned away covering her eyes. "Damn it, not again!"

Reizo looked down and saw she, or now he, had changed once again. He sighed as he stood up, pulled up his skirt, flushed, and made his way to wash his hands. "Feel free to leave when ever you'd like."

Prism didn't need to be told twice as she bolted from the room. Reizo dried his hands and stepped out next, seeing Echidna, Sandy, and Acacia staring at him wide-eyed.

"What?"

Acacia whistled. "Nice legs!"

#rwby #rwby oc #reizo yamato #echidna bluewaters #acacia evergreen #prism asagiri #sandy mithril #james ironwood #evangeline yamato #arishna dawn #clover ebi #harriet bree #elm ederne #vine zeki #marrow amin

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 4 years

Text

‘All that’s best of dark and bright’ - a Draco x Hermione x Theo story - Chapter Five

Again, for the 0.2 people following on here as well as Ao3...

Chapter One here: Tumblr | Ao3

Chapter Two here: Tumblr | Ao3

Chapter Three here: Tumblr | Ao3

Chapter Four here: Tumblr | Ao3

Summary:

Hermione makes up with Ginny again, and is then given plenty to think about after a few revelations during and after a double potions class partnered with Theo. Draco remains distant and wary, but Theo seems determined to haul him into the limelight regardless.

Hermione drew back the curtain of her four-poster, shattering the silencing charm she habitually placed around it, to find that Ginny was also just getting up, her hair a tangled, tousled mess on one side, and her cheek lined with pillow creases. Gentle morning light filtered in through the warped glass of the leaded window beside her, making the vibrant red of her hair stand out all the more in the Gryffindor-red dormitory.

The moment she spotted Hermione stirring too, Ginny opened her mouth, but before she could say whatever it was, Hermione barrelled over the top of her with an apology. “Ginny, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I was insensitive, and —”

“Godric, Hermione,” Ginny laughed, rolling her eyes, “I’m the one who nearly bit your head off at the table!”

“You had every right,” Hermione countered quietly, running her fingers through her hair in a vain attempt to tame it. “I understand why you were upset.”

Ginny came over and plonked herself down on Hermione’s bed, drawing her legs up and hugging her knees. She swallowed thickly and then shot her friend a sidelong look and sighed heavily. “I spoke to George yesterday morning while everyone was at breakfast,” she said and Hermione’s stomach dropped. “He… He wasn’t doing so well, and it brought it all back.”

Hermione put her arm around Ginny’s shoulders and hugged her close. With everything freshly dredged up again, it was no wonder she’d reacted the way she had to Hermione’s growing closeness to a Slytherin, and her thoughts on attempting to move on. They’d only lost Fred four months ago, right here in the castle.

“I miss him so much,” she choked. “It still doesn’t feel real. I keep expecting him to come round a corner with George or something…”

“I know.”

Neither of them moved for a little while, but Ginny finally snuffled a bit and Hermione drew back. “So…” Ginny said sceptically. “Nott really isn't a complete arsehole?”

She shook her head, curls bouncing everywhere. “He doesn't seem to be, no.”

“Huh.” Her mind was clearly still on the topic of the company the Slytherin kept, because a moment later she raised an eyebrow and asked, “I suppose not all Slytherins are terrible. Astoria Greengrass is actually quite nice. She’s in Charms with me.” After a moment she added, “What about… Malfoy?”

Hermione hadn’t had the time - or quite frankly the inclination - to think about anything from his point of view before his trial, but now that she was back here and only really had her classes to focus on, she had found herself studying her fellow ‘eighth years’ a little more closely. There were only a handful of them, and only three in Slytherin had deigned to return for their N.E.W.T.s. Of Hermione’s own already limited circle of friends, there was just Neville and Luna. Beyond that, only Padma Patil, Ernie Macmillian, Anthony Goldstein, Hannah Abbott, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, and Draco Malfoy had returned to finish off their studies formally. Everyone else was out there living their lives already, rebuilding, and trying to move on however they could.

Realising she’d been quiet for a bit too long, Hermione shrugged. “I actually haven’t had much to do with Malfoy this term, beyond the occasional partnering with him in class. He’s definitely different though.” She recalled how sickly she’d thought Malfoy in her sixth year, how gaunt he’d been and thought again about the immense pressure he must have been under on all sides… “He never volunteers any information in class now, and I don’t think I’ve seen him speak to anyone other than Theo… and perhaps Daphne Greengrass once or twice, though I’m not taking any of the same classes as her.” After another pause, she ventured, “Hagrid said he actually went to apologise to him.”

“You’re shitting me?”

“Nope.”

Ginny looked like she’d been slapped. “Huh. Too bad he hasn’t extended the same courtesy to us yet…”

Hermione shrugged. “Maybe he’s working up to it,” she said with knowingly generous optimism, and Ginny snorted. “We Gryffindors can be rather intimidating, you know?” she added playfully and Ginny grinned at her. The warmth and genuine amusement in that smile went some way to reassuring Hermione that, fundamentally, Ginny would be alright in the end. Behind the weight of grief, she was still the same playful, fierce, loyal, loving friend she had come to know. Their friendship was mostly through their mutual connections to Ron and Harry rather than in its own right, but recently they’d become a little closer.

“Too bloody right we’re intimidating,” Ginny agreed. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go down to breakfast,” she said as she pushed herself off Hermione’s bed. She paused and looked back at her. “You might want to… uh… fix your hair a bit,” she said, eyeing Hermione’s bed-head of frizzy curls.

“Likewise,” she snorted, reaching for a bottle of Sleakeasy’s on her bedside table. “You want some?”

Down in the Great Hall, their respective manes just about tamed, Ginny slid a plate of chocolate croissants Hermione’s way and asked, “You sure you won’t come to tryouts on Saturday?”

Halfheartedly sliding one off the platter and plucking it gently into pieces, she shook her head. “I think I’ll probably just use the time to get ahead with some homework.”

“But it’s your birthday!” Ginny blurted, horrified. “You can’t do homework on your birthday! Plus it’s a weekend! If I didn’t have tryouts, I’d be throwing you a huge all-day party…”

“Yes, because I really love big parties, Ginny,” she said with affectionate sarcasm.

“A small three hour party?” Ginny asked hopefully, pouring Hermione some more tea before topping up her own mug.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll come down to the common room at three. Don’t do anything embarrassing.”

Ginny grinned and it went absolutely nowhere towards reassuring her. She was a Weasley after all, and they were all prone to shenanigans, if not pranks. “Better make it four. The Slytherin team is holding their tryouts in the morning, and Gryffindor’s up after lunch, but I should be done by half three.”

With another gentle eye roll, she nodded. “Fine.”

“Great. I’ve got a plan…”

In double Potions later that morning, Hermione found herself paired with Theo for the brewing of a volubilis potion. It seemed that after their playful patrol the night before, the two had inched a little closer towards something that might be called friendship, and although he rarely strayed from polite remarks and the vaguest hint of teasing banter, she got the distinct impression he wanted to open up a little more.

Malfoy was the only one in the class without a partner, sitting at a bench on his own since there was an odd number that day, and he wasn’t exactly anyone’s first choice. Besides, he was good enough at potions that he probably didn’t need a partner anyway. Except, he was usually Theo’s first choice of course, but something wordless had passed between them as they’d entered the Potions dungeon together and their gazes - one sapphire, the other mercury - had sought her out at the same time. Apparently as a result, Theo had returned Malfoy’s little nod and made a beeline for her table, while Malfoy had seated himself at the bench on the end without comment. She didn’t ask, and the potion they were focusing on that day was a complicated one. Done correctly, it would change the way a person’s voice sounded, but any mistakes and it could leave the vocal cords permanently damaged at best; completely corroded away at worst.

“Now,” Slughorn chirped as they neared the end of the intricate brewing process an hour and a half later. “If you wish to alter your voice to that of someone specific, remember that the volubilis potion will work in much the same way as a polyjuice potion once it’s reached this stage. It’ll still function as it is without any additions, but the effects will be somewhat more random. Go ahead and try it out. I’m satisfied that all of you have produced the correct formula, though some of them might taste a little funny,” he added with a sceptical glance into Padma and her partner Emma’s cauldron. “And don’t worry - I have the antidote here so that you don’t have to go into lunch sounding like your Potions partner, or perhaps a surprised doxy.” He chortled to himself at that and let them continue.

Hermione looked up at Theo across the gold-tinged fumes rising from their finished potion, and he grinned a slow-dawning, feral smile at her. “Granger,” he purred.

“Nott…” she smiled back warily, mirroring his tone. He clearly wanted to switch voices with her and she found that she actually wasn’t averse to the notion.

“Come on,” he said, raising the sharp, delicate scissors to his forelock and snipping off a single hair as she ladled a tiny amount of the syrupy potion into the two cups in front of her.

He dropped the hair into her cup and they watched it dissolve completely while he stirred it with a glass rod. He had purple ink on his knuckles that day, she tried not to note. To distract herself, she cut a few inches off the end of a single hair of her own and placed it into his potion.

They chinked cups as if they were celebrating at the Three Broomsticks after a quidditch match, and then downed it.

It had a slightly minty taste, sweet from the honeywater and with a bitter aftertaste from the mandrake root. She looked at Theo and waited for him to unleash whatever delightful torment he had planned. It never even struck her as odd that she trusted him not to humiliate her, but she did expect a fairly decent ribbing, almost the way she’d got used to from Harry and Ron.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” Theo cooed a moment later in her voice, bringing his fingers dramatically to his collarbone and flouncing his imaginary hair about with the other. “And I’m smart and beautiful and there’s literally nothing in the world I don’t know.”

She flushed hot and looked down at her notebook on the table.

“What?” Theo-with-Hermione’s-voice asked innocently. “Are you suggesting that we shouldn’t all be on our knees before you? Oh Gryffindor goddess? Oh Golden Girl of the legendary —”

She had to shut him up. Of all the things he could have said, she hadn’t expected him to embarrass her with praise and flattery. “That’s not —” she snorted, but she stopped abruptly as Theo’s own voice sounded from her throat. “Well,” she said, touching her fingers to her neck. “That’s interesting.”

Theo paused and offered her a crooked smile, one dimple pinching his cheek. “Having fun there, Granger?” he said. “Discovering all the joys of my sultry tones…? Oh the things my voice can do, Hermione… If only you knew the power you held right now…” and to his surprise, he shot a look sideways at Malfoy.

She followed his gaze and her eyebrows rose. The apples of Malfoy’s cheeks had flushed an unexpected pink and he was glowering into his potion as if it were a draft of living death. “Just because I’ve currently got the silky voice of a well-spoken prat,” she grumbled, “Doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it.”

Theo leaned in close, the golden fumes of the potion illuminating the coppery highlights in his curly hair like fairy dust, and he said in a stage whisper that carried perfectly across the room and over the bubble of all six cauldrons, “Anything filthy you want to say, love, I suggest you say it now.”

“Before you go ahead and say it in my voice instead, you mean?” she smirked, still feeling very strange about speaking in Theo’s husky baritone.

Theo’s eyes rolled slightly but he didn’t exactly look exasperated. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Malfoy’s eye, opening his mouth, but before Theo could say anything, Malfoy raised the long, pale index finger of his left hand and pointed it threateningly at Theo before carefully drawling, “Do. Not.”

All three of them froze.

The low voice that came pouring out of Malfoy’s lips like liquid silk was so eerily similar to Severus Snape’s that it chilled her blood.

Even Malfoy seemed shaken, and whatever Theo had been going to say in jest died on his tongue. Instead, he left Hermione at their bench and went over to Malfoy’s while Slughorn was occupied in trying to stop some Hufflepuff seventh year from hyperventilating with laughter in the corner. She and her partner both sounded like hysterical chipmunks, and the laughter was only making it worse.

What the two boys whispered together, she couldn’t be sure, but Malfoy finally offered Theo a heartbreakingly gentle smile and her insides writhed almost painfully at the tenderness of the exchange. She suddenly got the striking impression that there was more between them than mere friendship, her gaze snagging on the lingering way their fingertips brushed against each other’s on the desk, and Theo even swiped a lock of Malfoy’s white hair off his forehead and out of his glassy grey eyes.

She knew that Malfoy had known Theo since they were children, but that seemed to run deeper than just long-term familiarity. The whole exchange was so achingly gentle, so intimately private despite the location, and so completely at odds with the sharp edges of Draco Malfoy with which she was familiar by now, that she felt like an intruder, standing there gaping openly at them, as further proof of his naturally tactile nature played out before her astonished eyes. This was the second time she’d witnessed him quieting like a skittish horse under Theo's touch.

Immediately, she busied herself in tidying up, bustling about and clinking jars and bottles noisily.

Professor Slughorn came round with volubilis antidotes a minute or two later, and she chugged hers down the second he gave it to her. “That’s better,” she said as her own warm alto sounded in her ears.

“Missing me already?” Theo said, still in her own voice, though he held a glass of antidote ready in one hand.

She hadn’t noticed him return to their bench, and she jumped a bit as he spoke. She just shook her head mutely.

He downed his own antidote and then cleared his throat. “You alright?”

She nodded. “Quite alright.”

She wasn’t quite alright. Seeing Draco Malfoy being downright affectionate with someone was… unnerving. His long fingers had trailed over Theo’s knuckles like… well, like a lover’s touch.

“You look —” Theo began, but whatever she looked like, he didn’t get the chance to tell her, because the contents of Padma’s cauldron were suddenly spilling all over her and her partner’s bench in a tidal wave of sweet-smelling potion, covering the Ravenclaws’ notes and drowning everything in volubilis potion. The upended cauldron rolled on the desk and potion began to drip onto the floor and seep towards Theo’s smart, black shoes in a glistening, viscous tide.

“Careful, careful!” Slughorn scolded, scuttling over and vanishing the remnants of the potion with a flick of his wand. “No harm done, no harm done, but be grateful that wasn’t an erumpment potion!” he added. “Right, well, that’s it for today. Finish tidying up and I’ll let you go a few minutes early. Don’t forget that I want that calculations sheet by next Monday.”

“You headed to lunch, Granger?” Theo asked as he stashed his books into his leather shoulder bag and hefted its weight so that it sat more comfortably.

She nodded.

“May we accompany you?” he asked with a playful tone that somehow didn’t feel in the least bit mocking.

“Sure,” she smiled, and her eyes drifted over to Malfoy who had drifted over to stand like a silent, pale spectre beside him, gaze locked on the flagstone floor. “You don’t mind?” she asked him.

Malfoy swallowed thickly, looking reticent about using his voice despite having had the antidote. “‘Mind’, Granger?” he asked with an affected drawl that lacked all its usual sting.

She shrugged. “You don’t exactly seem all that keen to hang around with me,” she said, trying not to sound sniffy. She didn’t want to pressure him to be near her if it made him uncomfortable after all.

Malfoy’s shoulders dropped an inch or so, and he suddenly looked extremely tired. “It’s not that I mind, Granger. I really don’t. Let’s go before Slughorn turns us into potions ingredients, or ropes us all into some dire new club of his.”

Being made to endure another Slug Club dinner was about as appealing as being pickled and put in a jar, so she nodded and scurried out of the room with Theo and Malfoy behind her.

Outside in the corridor, Theo walked beside her, and Malfoy on Theo's other side. He had folded his arms across his body, clutching two textbooks so tightly to his chest that his knuckles bleached white from the strain. His jaw was set and a tendon stood out in his neck.

Theo shot him a look too and jabbed him with his elbow. “Lighten up, Drake, or she’ll think you’ve still got a wand up your arse about everything.”

“I do not need to think about what may or may not be up Malfoy’s arse,” she joked lightly, and the laughter in her voice made Theo snort and then guffaw with laughter.

“Told you she’s not as much of a prude as you’d think,” he said conversationally to Malfoy when he’d recovered. Malfoy had turned crimson. “Plus, she practically admitted to me on patrol last night that she’s been caught in flagrante delicto in the corridors by a prefect.”

“I’ll try not to take that first bit the wrong way. And you admitted as much - if not more - to me, Nott” she said curtly, and watched Malfoy’s mouth part with horror and his eyes widen while the deep, scarlet flush in his cheeks spread down his neck. She nearly fell up the stairs from the dungeons in shock. Surely Malfoy hadn’t been the one… Well.

Theo tipped his head back and crowed another laugh that echoed off the vaulted ceiling and made several portraits hiss at him to keep it down. He did nothing of the sort.

He leaned over and whispered in Hermione’s ear as they hit the top of the staircase and headed for the great hall, “That’ll give that brilliant mind of yours something to think about, eh, Granger?”

Malfoy thumped him hard on the upper arm and they parted ways before she could formulate a response, each heading for their respective tables, while Malfoy still sported a vibrant blush and Hermione pursed her lips.

Yes. Yes it most certainly would.

___

To be continued.

If you enjoyed, please reblog and share! I’m new to the fandom on here and appreciate all the help I can get!

___

writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #draco x hermione #draco x theo #draco x theo x hermione #hp poly story #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy #hermione granger #theodore nott #i'm still working out how to tag this so that people can find it

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