#but I’d be shocked if we get through this month without a major incident | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch.6

Warnings: major gaslighting, Lucifer being a horrible older brother, controlling behaviour, manipulation

if you want to be tagged please let me know or if you're already tagged and want me to stop tagging you let me know as well

taglist: @mediocredetective @it-hurts-when-i-blink

A/N: I don’t think I ever mentioned or implied it, but I wrote this with the intention of it being an AU.

The end of the work day was one of Arella’s favorite parts of the day- not because she didn’t like her job. It was quite the opposite actually. No, the reason the end of her shift was her favorite part of her day was getting to go home to Mammon and the home they had made together. And today she had special news for her beloved demon.

“Mam, I’m home!” The human calls as she rushes through the door, hanging her purse on the coat rack next to the door and her keys on the key rack next to that. “Mammon...?” When she gets no response to her calls, she sets about the house looking for the white-haired demon. It was odd for him not to meet her at the door.

She thought maybe he was just taking a nap so her first stop was their bedroom but when she didn’t find him there, or any place else she looked for that matter, she grew confused. Maybe he had just gone out for something- she did leave him money during the day in case he thought of something they needed from the store or anything of that nature, but his human world cell phone he had in place of the D.D.D. that he’d left at the House of Lamentation was sitting on their bedside table. Had he just forgotten it at home? Arella half expected Mammon to come walking through the door any minute now.

When there was a knock at the door, she went to go investigate it. She opened the door and to her surprise, Solomon standing there.

“Solomon? Well, this is a surprise.” She looks at him wide-eyed. “You didn’t say anything about coming to visit.”

“Sorry, I know it’s spur of the moment. Is Mammon home?” The sorcerer looks almost worried- like he’d been rushing to get here. “I text you earlier to warn you but you must’ve still been at work.”

“N.. No. I think he went out to get something- wait did you say warn?”

“Lucifer found you two a couple months ago. He’s been watching ever since. If Mammon’s not here then he must’ve made his move while you were away...”

Arella’s jaw dropped. He had found them? How? She’d been so careful but it just wasn’t enough apparently. She turned on her heels and marched in the house proper.

“Arella, what are you doing?” the silver-haired male follows after her.

“What do you think? I’m going to the Devildom to get my boyfriend back and give Lucifer a piece of my mind.”

“Arella wait. You can’t.”

“I think I can. It’s not like he can actually kill me- not when I hold a pact over him.”

“No, Arella, I mean you literally cannot. You’ve been banned from the Devildom for the foreseeable future.”

“I’ve what now?”

--------------------------------------------

It's only been a few hours since Lucifer forced Mammon to come home and he was miserable every minute of it. His brothers save for the eldest were all at school for the time being. He figured once they came home, they would laugh at him- at the way he thought he could leave them behind for his own selfish happiness. He plans on hiding away in his room for the rest of the night in silent protest. He’d stay here in this room forever if that would mean that his older brother would see how unhappy he was- but really, when has Lucifer ever cared about what made him happy. He wondered if any of his brothers would come looking for him when they got home.

--------------------------------------------

As dinnertime came around, the brothers had gathered around the table. It had been Beel’s turn for dinner duty so he got to decide their meal tonight. It was home-made ramen- Mammon's favorite- as a sort of show of good will. They all knew that the reason their brother had taken so long to come back from the human world that he had to be escorted back by force was because he was genuinely happier with the human than he was with them, but as a few minutes turned into thirty, a couple of them exchanged worried looks. Asmo placed napkin over the top of Mammon’s bowl so the food wouldn’t get cold when even more time passed and Mammon still hadn’t shown his face.

The Avatar of Greed wouldn’t join them until it was Lucifer who escorted him to the table, tugging Mammon by the arm like a father dragging his unruly child off for a scolding.

“Everyone, welcome our precious brother back.” He gave their brother a pat on the shoulder before going to take his seat. “Make sure he remembers how much we value his place in this family. How much we love him. He seems to be a little confused.”

The others looked between each other before looking toward the Avatar of Greed.

“’m not confused. I wanna go home... back ta where I belong.” The white-haired demon’s voice is quiet.

“Of course you are. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re already at home and in the one and only place you belong.” Lucifer picked up his chop sticks as he began to eat. He didn’t need to say it but the look he shot Mammon relayed it perfectly: ‘under my thumb,’

And it’s at this point the rest of the brothers turn to their own bowls, realizing that this is why none of them dared to step a foot out the line Lucifer had so meticulously constructed for them. This was the worst kind of punishment.

--------------------------------------------

The following three months were just as horrible for Mammon as that first day back. While his brothers hadn’t been particularly nasty to him, their presence was beginning to feel suffocating. One of them was always in his room trying to get him to do something with them- at least they were trying to be better. The only one he really took up the offer on was Satan who offered to study with him to get his grades back up because it was a necessity.

What was worse, Mammon couldn’t leave the house without constant monitoring from Lucifer. If he was at RAD, Lucifer was never out of ear shot. If he went out for a walk just to get some fresh air, Lucifer’s familiars were there to follow him until he returned back to the House of Lamentation. Mammon couldn’t even spend time in the Aviary with his crows- the only creatures that brought him some semblance of happiness- without the Avatar of Pride being more than a few yards off. He couldn’t go on like this much longer and still expect to remain sound of mind. It was overbearing, to put it mildly.

He had seen Solomon a few times in the halls at school. He wanted to talk to him- to see how Arella was doing, to relay the message that he was doing alright but he missed her. And the sorcerer looked like he wanted to give him something, often pulling out a white envelope for him, but each time the pair was interrupted by none other than the Avatar of Pride. He would confiscate the envelope from the silver-haired human and go as far as to burn it in front of Mammon with the coldest look in his eyes before escorting him to their next class together.

“Lucifer, please, jus’ let me read one letter. Just one, please?” Mammon pleads as they walked together after the latest letter burning incident. “I just wanna know how she’s doin’. Is that too much to ask?”

“No.” His voice is stern. “Mammon, can’t you see how bad she is for you? Look how unhappy you are now as opposed to before Arella came into your life. Back then you knew we loved you. She’s the one who put those outlandish ideas in your head so she could separate you from us. Arella played tricks on you. She didn’t take you away from us because she loved you, she wanted to use you- take advantage of you and your abilities.”

“No...” He takes a step back from his older brother, “No, ‘Rella wouldn’t do that. She loves me.”

“Does she though?”

“What?”

“Well, you yourself said her primary sin was greed, didn’t you? One of the benefits of keeping herself in your good graces is boundless wealth- we all know that. If you were in that position isn’t that what you would do?”

“Not that. I’d never mess with a person’s feelin’s for my own gain.”

“Mammon,” Lucifer’s voice is soft and firm as he placed a comforting hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Have I ever lied to you unless it was to protect you?”

“No...” the white-haired demon says quietly. “Ya haven’t.”

“Then why would I choose to lie to you- my precious little brother- now?” He asks.

“I don’t know...”

“I wouldn’t. Look at you now. You’re so worked up over one insignificant, greedy human. Forget about her so you’ll feel better. I know this is a lot to realize so suddenly, would you like to go home and lie down for a bit?”

Mammon only nods as the eldest smiles softly and ruffles his hair just like he did when Mammon was small back when they were angels in the Celestial Realm.

“It hurts now, but you’ll be alright, Mams. You have your brothers. That’s all you need.”

Watching from behind the corner, Asmodeus’ eyes widened in horror. They’d heard the entirety of that exchange between their older brothers and they were in shock. As soon as the pair had gone, the strawberry-blonde-haired demon took off to demand an audience with Diavolo. Lucifer, in his attempt to keep Mammon under his control, was going far off the deep end.

--------------------------------------------

find more on my masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me angst #obey me mammon #mammon angst #obey me oc #arella #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer

61 notes · View notes

topsytervy · 3 years

Text

All mine ~ Rafe Cameron

Blurb: After you pick up Rafe from a party, he gets slightly jealous in his drunken state and reveals his feelings.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, poorly written and edited, probably spelling mistakes,

Word Count: 1,364 (little more than that cause I added a couple of words after checking the word count)

This is non-canon Rafe by the way.

~~~~~~

You woke up to your phone ringing.

"Hello?" You yawned, not bothering to check who the caller was.

"Hey, Y/N/N. Wanna come pick up Rafe? He got into a drinking match with Connor and- Rafe, that's not alcohol!"

You recognized the voice as Bradley, one of Rafe’s friends and a guy in one of your classes, and knew that Rafe was definitely on the tipsy scale, closer to the shitfaced end of the said scale from the sounds of it.

"Yeah. Sure. Text me the address and I’ll be there soon." You answered, sitting up and stretching.

You and Rafe were roommates while you two were in college for your respective majors.

You don't really know how it came to be considering you two barely talked at all during high school but, according to your memory it went a little something like:

"Hey Y/N, You're going to Chapel Hill, right?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. Wanna rent an apartment together?"

"Sure."

But hey. Better than a dorm with some random ass person who probably wouldn't respect your boundaries. Instead, you got a person you kind of knew who didn’t respect your boundaries.

You and Rafe didn’t really talk a lot during the first few months, often keeping to yourselves, until Rafe came in and practically begged you to go on a date with one of his buddies who, in turn, would bring his cousin for Rafe to go out with.

When you two got home that night, Rafe started rambling off apologies for his friend.

"I did not know he could or would be such an asshole." He told you.

You shrugged, not really caring at this point.

What exactly did that guy say to you? Well, you can’t remember all the details but it was something about how you must be getting a MRS degree.

Most people would've probably just shrugged it off and told him to shut the hell up cause they were getting a degree in whatever they were getting a degree in, but not you. You had a look of surprise on your face and looked at Rafe, who looked just as shocked.

"Dude, it's the 21st century," Rafe said.

Before his friend could open his mouth, you stood up.

"I gotta go to the bathroom. I'll be back."

When you came back after gathering your thoughts, Rafe met your eyes and held up his phone.

"We gotta head out. The landlord said something about a busted pipe or something. I don’t know but we should probably leave."

You bid your dates adieu and left, the car ride completely silent.

He didn’t speak until you both were in the elevator heading up to the apartment. “I lied, by the way. The landlord didn’t call. I texted my sister to call and make it seem like it was the landlord.” Rafe admitted.

“Thanks for getting us out of there.” You smiled.

Later that night you two got drunk and talked about how unbearable your families were and shared some childhood stories. A mess of a night, really.

Something about that night really stayed with not only you but also Rafe unbeknownst to you. Naturally.

It definitely brought you two closer and unlocked feelings but, of course, they were kept to yourselves.

You drove to the address Bradley sent you parked your car before getting out, making your way through the crowd of sweaty people. You saw Bradley in the corner and waved, flagging him down. He waved to you, grabbed Rafe, who was propped against the wall next to him, and made his way over to you.

"Y/N!" Rafe hollered, grinning like an idiot.

"Hey, Rafe." You greeted him, returning the smile.

"I’ll carry him out to the car," Bradley said into your ear so you could hear him and you nodded.

Rafe rolled his eyes, pulling himself away from his friend. "I can walk myself." He slurred slightly.

Bradley let go of him and Rafe walked himself to the door, stumbling a little.

"I’ll still come with to make sure he doesn’t eat pavement."

You smiled at Bradley. "Thanks cause I don’t think I’d be able to stop him from smacking his head off of it and I don’t feel like taking someone to the hospital."

You managed to get Rafe into the car without any incident and reached over him so you could buckle him in, giving Rafe the key to hold onto.

You closed the door and began talking with Bradley about one of the assignments you had and an upcoming test.

Rafe, feeling jealous about you and Bradley talking, put the key in the ignition and turned it just enough so he could open the window enough to listen in.

"So tomorrow at the café?" Bradley asked, walking backward as he made his way back towards the party.

"Sounds great. See you then!" You called, sending him a wave before opening your car door and getting in.

Rafe sat there, staring at you as you started the car before turning his attention out the window.

"Alright, Rafe. Ready to get to bed?" You asked, beginning your drive back home.

He grunted in response, crossing his arms over his chest.

You glanced at him. "What’s your issue? You were absolutely fine when I showed up, and now you’re acting all moody."

"Nothing. 'M just tired." He mumbled.

You snuck another glance as you turned on your blinker. Rafe continued staring out the window, looking upset. You decided not to ask him what was on his mind, he'd tell you when he wanted to.

You hoped he’d tell you at least. He kind of had a thing for bottling up his feelings.

You arrived home 15 minutes later, getting out of the car after Rafe did. You guided your tipsy roommate towards the elevator, holding onto his arm the entire time, as you made your way to your apartment.

You took out your key and unlocked the door, pulling him inside and towards his room.

"Didn’t know you and Bradley liked each other?" Rafe finally said, breaking the silence that had been dragging on.

You looked at Rafe. "What are you talking about?"

"Your date tomorrow."

You raised an eyebrow. "You mean me meeting up with him so we can copy each other’s notes so we don’t fail the test."

Rafe stared at you before averting his gaze to the floor as you entered his bedroom. "Well, now I feel silly for acting like a toddler."

You pulled the covers of his bed back so he could lay down, shaking your head lightly as you smiled. "You always act like a toddler when you're drunk. I'm used to it by now."

Rafe crawled into bed and laid down on his side. You leaned over to tuck him in, but he grabbed you, pulling you into his chest qs his face nuzzled into your neck.

"I’m sorry for acting like a jealous toddler then." He mumbled.

You shrugged. "It’s fine."

"No, it’s not. I guess I was just upset over the fact that some dude had the balls to ask you out before me, only to find out that I was wrong and now I just look like a prick."

"Rafe Cameron, do you mean to tell me that you were moody because you thought Bradley asked me out before you could?"

You felt Rafe nod.

"Would you like to ask me out?" You asked him, dragging your fingers through his hair.

Rafe nodded again. "Do I have to sit up and make it all professional or can I do it from the comfort of your neck?"

"Whatever you want to do Rafe."

You felt him take a deep breath. "Y/N, will you go out on a date with me?"

"Of course." You answered.

"Y/N?"

"Mhm."

"Will you also stay with me in here tonight? Keep me warm or something?"

"Yes, Rafe. I will stay in here tonight to keep you warm or something." You smiled.

"That’s nice. I don’t actually need you to stay warm. I just want you to stay with me." He admitted.

You swallowed a giggle. "Yes, Rafe. I figured that out."

“Does this mean you’re mine now?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“All mine.”

“All yours.”

~~~~~~~~

#rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #drew starkey

227 notes · View notes

prorevenge · 4 years

Text

Veteran Mechanic taking advantage of active duty military and retirees messes with the wrong person and his buddy goes down with him.

When this started all I was trying to do was get out of paying for something I didn’t need and never asked for. By the end I was going for blood as someone else enacted their revenge.

This happened back in 2002 on Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego. I was stationed down the way at 32nd Street Naval Base for my MIlitary Occupation Specialty school and was a new Lance Corporal (E3) at the time. I had a 1994 Dodge Spirit with 180K miles or so and I’d just driven it across the country. I bought it a few days before leaving KS at an Auto auction. A couple weeks into my school it died, at the gate, next to the sentry.

After an initial freak out that I was a suicide bomber and the subsequent search of me and my car everyone calms down and they help push my car to the top of the hill so I can coast down the other side and into the auto repair shop parking lot which thankfully went without incident.

Before I go in I call my dad and then his cousin. My dad knows a ton about cars and his cousin is a mechanic with his own very successful shop (like a dozen work bays and they handle everything from regular cars to farm equipment to semis). I know a fair bit about cars on my own but he knows everything. Between us we decide it looks like the distributor or the distributor cap is the issue. My dad’s cousin says it’s a common issue on Spirits from this time and recommends I get it fixed here by a real mechanic. Now at this point it’s important to note his shop did a very thorough once over for me after I bought the car and gave me good notes on the condition of the car in writing, from his shop.

I go in and talk to the guy at the counter. They’re not too busy and pull it into a bay and run their diagnostics, same thing. Distributor cap. Cool. I get the services agreement saying they’ll replace it and call me if they find anything else. I hear nothing until the end of the week when they call and say my car is ready. When I get there they present me with a bill for like $1400!

Wow. Just wow. Now my heart has stopped beating and I say something about that being a lot for a distributor cap. The guy who owns the place (I find out he’s a veteran from way back) breaks off talking to a Master Sergeant (MSgt - E8) and comes over to talk to me. He starts telling me about how it was much worse than they originally thought and they ended up having to replace my radiator (plus hoses) and my timing belt and a head gasket. I’m still in shock and say something like the head gasket was fine two weeks ago and so was the radiator and the timing. He puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me I don’t know what I’m talking about bc they’ve been waiting to fail for a long time now.

I’m confused now and say that’s not possible. I bought it two weeks ago and... He cuts me off and says I was sold a complete lemon and I should have had it checked. He says he felt bad for me and this should have cost over $2000 but he cut me a deal and he can work with me in an installment plan but will have to charge me interest. Now I’m suspicious and starting to get pissed and I say the only repair I authorized was a distributor cap and they should have called me before doing anything else and I start to explain I’ve got paperwork from the inspection I had done that said those other things were fine. I’m going to get it from the car and the MSgt grabs me by the arm and starts telling me I’m being ungrateful and disrespectful to a respected mechanic and business owner and asks me if I’m implying he’s cheating me. Every time I try to open my mouth he cuts me off and keeps telling the owner not to worry, he’ll make sure this young pup pays what is owed. He’s threatening to take me over to admin and have my pay docked.

Now I’m angry and a bit scared. Another Marine intervenes and says that’s a little extreme and to let me say my piece. I get permission to get into my car to get my maintenance history which includes an oil change, the inspection documentation and the original quote for the distributor cap work. At this point there’s a crowd of customers and some other passers by. The owner of the garage and MSgt are in full theater mode talking about how I’m not appreciating the huge help they’ve been and I’m trying to get out of paying for work I asked for. Now I’m mostly just pissed.

I come in and the MSgt cuts me off and tells me to be careful how I talk to his friend. I ask the MSgt if he’s going to let me speak or keep interrupting me while I’m in a private conversation with a business owner. I ask him if he owns part of the shop (no) and ask why he’s so interested in not hearing a Marine out. Then I get out the original statement of services and say the distributor cap is all I agreed to. I also ask why he didn’t call me and he says he called my barracks several times and left messages including ones telling me the car was undrivable until the repairs were made so he went with the lowest cost option to get me back on the road. Oops. I say, that’s interesting, the only number I gave you is my cell phone and I don’t have any messages or even attempted calls until the previous evening when they left a message that my car was ready. I show everyone my call history (including a Captain who’s very interested and standing quietly by). The MSgt has backed off and the Capt is quietly talking to him off on the side.

Now the owner is backpedaling a bit and saying he was thinking of a different customer but he’s already made the replacement and has to charge me for the work. Then I pull out the stuff from the inspection and it has some fun little statements in it. Statements like: Timing belt good, timing good. Check again in 30K miles. Radiator, appears to be recently replaced. All hoses new in last 6 months. Nothing on the head gasket but there’s a statement that there are no leaks in that area which was why he said he had to replace it. I say he can put all of my original stuff back on because all I’m paying for is the distributor cap work. He gets red faced and starts demanding I pay for the labor and he can’t put things back on because they were too badly damaged in the removal process.

Now some old retired guy chimes in from the back and asks “what kind of mechanic damages things when they take them apart?” The owner drags out my radiator and there is a giant hole in one side that looks like it was stabbed with a crowbar. Now a couple other people (locals) are questioning past situations where he ‘helped them’ out with repairs they didn’t know they needed. The MSgt tried to walk off and a Colonel and a Sergeant Major in civilian attire post him to the side for a later conversation. The Capt pulls me aside and asks to see the info I have and to see my phone again and steps behind the counter to photocopy it all. He has a truly evil grin. Turns out he’s a prior Enlisted former infantry Marine who became an Officer after going back to college. He has suspected this shop of being crooked for a while but never had enough proof. He’s on the commanding general’s staff and they were looking into complaints from permanent personnel and retirees in the area. The owner is sweating bullets now. I only pay for the distributor cap and get a statement that says my balance is zero so he doesn’t try anything in the future.

The Capt takes me to dinner and gets my info and basically a statement from me of what happened. After dinner he takes me back to his office while he types up something for me to sign about the whole incident and I call Verizon to get them to fax over the incoming / outgoing calls from my number from the past week. He explains that the MSgt has been steering a lot of customers to his buddy and they suspect he’s getting kick backs. The Capt and several others have been taking their cars there for months to try to catch the guy doing what he did to me. The MSgt sealed his fate when he started threatening to take my pay. They suspected he was getting kickbacks or favors in exchange for hooking up his buddy. Now he has the justification he needs to formally look into the MSgt. The Capt was thrilled and bought me a 6 pack for using up so much of my Friday evening.

I wasn’t around long enough to see the outcome but when I left there were auditors from base services going through the business with a fine tooth comb and it was a legal matter. Once something like that gets started it probably means a business and the owners will get kicked out of the on base location (the base owns the building and the owner leases it). He and his business would also end up blacklisted as a place known for taking advantage of service members. Most commands give this out to people who check in so no one patronizes them.

It still boggles my mind that one veteran would try to use that status to take advantage of others. Or that a senior Marine would do that to other Marines. I know there are people out there like that but having the shared common background we do, I expect better.

(source) story by (/u/earthrogue)

#prorevenge #by /u/earthrogue #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

75 notes · View notes

gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Three -The Todd Packer Problem

Word Count: 2098

Author’s Note: ack! Hello readers! So, been thinking that I might put this up on Wattpad, I dunno, I kind of like writing here (like, wayyyyy more). But yeah, anyway, on with the story!!

WARNING: sexual harassment, offensive language

August, 2005.

"Who has two thumbs and hates Todd Packer? This guy." Jim said into the camera, pointing at himself. The sound of Todd's voice came from the office outside, and Jim's face fell. "I hate him."

—

A lot had happened in the two months since the basketball game, since the anniversary of your mother's death. You and Jim had become even better friends, Pam and Roy hit a rough patch and she got drunk at the Dundies, kissing Jim at one point. You and Brian broke up, and then got back together. But above all else, the biggest thing that had happened was, well, Michael got nicer.

Sure, he was still forwarding those inappropriate spam emails and hitting a line between dark humour and flat out racism on a weekly basis, but he had gotten back into inviting you over for dinner and the pair of you spent some time together outside of work. And to the office in general, he was easing up a little. He didn't bash Toby so much, he avoided making jokes at Pam's expense, he even brought in cake when he hadn't messed up in a major way, simply for the joy of sharing cake with colleagues.

But then, the Todd Packer thing happened.

Todd Packer was an old colleague of Michael's, when he was still a sales rep, and every once and a while, the asshat would visit the office and disrupt an entire day's work with inappropriate commentary and digs at Michael.

And not only did Michael take it, he played along, and amped up his own asshole levels to a solid 11. But the problem was, no-one knows when a feral Todd would appear, and you entered the office that extremely hot August morning in a new white work dress, with a black blazer and heel combo, thinking the most reaction you would get was Pam asking for a twirl and Kelly asking where you bought it.

Instead, you entered the office in your black and white get up, your hair styled and your makeup done to perfection you felt worthy of, and received a wolf whistle straight through the door. You looked around for the culprit, wondering if one of the guys in the office was just being funny, and your eyes caught onto him.

Todd Packer.

When you started at Dunder Mifflin six years ago, he had tried to get in bed with you, nicknaming you Jailbait, and once you had refused him for three years, he changed your nickname to Tease.

"Whoa mama! You get a boob job Y/N? God those things look amazing." He said as he walked over to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and blatantly looking down at your cleavage. "Come on Tease, ain't gonna give your favourite Upper Management official a kiss hello?" He smirked, and you kept a straight face as you sat down at your desk, doing your best not to punch him in the face. Jim looked over at you, his own fists clenched, and gave you a look that asked if you wanted the asshole beaten to death. You shook your head slightly.

"Packer, I have sales to make. Please go annoy someone else." You said politely, dialling you're first number of the day, focusing on the wall ahead of you instead of his clammy hands on your shoulders.

"Always such a spoil sport Y/N..." he said with a sigh, walking away to find Michael, and letting you breathe out the breath you had been holding.

"The one day I dress up and he's here?" You sigh, waiting for someone to pick up the phone. Jim glanced back at Pam, who looked equally as uncomfortable, but the three of you didn't say anything more, getting back to work.

"Hi there, this is Y/N from Dunder Mifflin. I was calling to inquire about your paper supplier?" You said in your best call voice, opening up your computer as you spoke to the new client. "Uh huh, right. Well, I'm aware you are currently being provided for by Staples madam, however the Dunder Mifflin paper stock is not only higher quality, but better value for your money. If I could have just five minutes of your time, I could offer you some quotes for next quarter? Yes? Brilliant. Thank you very much."

You cheered up a little after that first call, making a new client and strong start to the day. You got up to do a coffee run for yourself, Jim and Pam, and Jim took your your arm gently.

"You do look lovely today Y/N. Try not let Packer get you down." He reassured you, and you smiled back at him, grabbing his coffee mug and heading to the kitchen. Once you had filled all the cups, you made your way back out into the office to find Todd Packer in the centre of the room with Michael.

"... got him on bullshit charges of sexual harassment." Was what you heard as you walked in, and you shared a look with Pam. Her mom was meant to be coming in today, the three of you had been so excited about it. Her mom lived around two hours away, and Pam only really saw her at holidays. You and Jim were yet to meet the Pam's mom, both having so many questions about Pam as a kid, about the whole awkward teenage years.

You sighed and headed back over, placing a coffee on Jim's desk, followed by Pam's, before sitting down at your own.

"Y/N, not going to get me one too? Extra sugar?" Packed called, and you turned your chair.

"I make coffee for friends, not parasites." You said with a sweet smile, turning back to your desk, smiling as you caught Jim's smirk from the corner of your eye.

—

"Just a five minute review of the company's sexual harassment policy guys, nothing major." Toby announced, a screen and projector set up in the middle of the office. Michael had disappeared down to the warehouse, and Packer was off for lunch, so you all settled in for the presentation with a relaxed feeling in the air.

"Now, there is a difference between humour and harassment. I know everyone likes a joke, but our job, as responsible people, is to know when we cross a line, ok?" Toby's presentation was more than informative, and for the five minutes you all stayed quiet and listened, Pam raising her hand at the end of Toby's speech.

"Just so you all know, my mom should be coming today, and I'd really appreciate it if you kept more risqué jokes to a minimum if she's here?" Pam asked in a small voice, the office unanimously agreeing.

"Maybe it's a good idea to keep that in mind everyday. Act like Pam's mom is coming to visit." Toby rounded off with a joke, and as people started for lunch or back to work, Michael walked in.

With a blowup doll.

"Is it over? No? Good. Do you all realise what we could lose now corporate is breathing down our necks?" Michael asked, and you ran a hand through your hair. He wasn't doing this all for him, he was trying to impress his 'best friend'.

"Your forwarded emails?" Angela spoke up, and Michael nodded, pointing at her.

"Exactly!"

"I hate them." She replied, standing up and walking back to her desk. The rest of the room slowly returned to work, and Pam came over to Jim and your desks after twenty minutes.

"So, I say we do drinks tonight? Poor Richard's, the three of us? My mom just phoned in, she's got food poisoning and can't make it tonight, so Roy is out with the warehouse guys, and I haven't hung out with you guys for ages." Pam suggested, and Jim and You shared a look.

"You read my mind." You said with a grin, and Jim nodded fast.

"Yes, please. Drinks, 100%." With the plan made, you all went back to work happier, and as the afternoon continued on with little disruption from a certain asshole, you wondered if you might just make it to the end of the day without seeing him.

And then Packer returned, and began telling disgusting stories about incidents at HQ, about his own bizarre sex life. As 4.45 rolled around, you couldn't wait to pack up early and leave, finishing your last call of the day.

"... a room full of perfect tens, right? And then there's this one girl who looks like..." Packer gestured towards Phyllis, who sat doing her work.

"Phyllis?" Kevin asked, and Packer nodded as Michael walked out from his office.

"Whoa, whoa that crosses the line." Michael stopped the discussion, stood beside a rather upset looking Phyllis.

"Ex-squeeze me?" Packer raised and eyebrow.

"Not you. Kevin. Not cool dude." Michael shifted the blame, letting Packer off scot-free as he went on to compliment Phyllis' beauty, and make some borderline inappropriate comments in good faith.

"Let's go?" You suggested to Pam and Jim, who both nodded and started packing up. You bent over to pick up your handbag, and suddenly felt a strong hand grabbing at your ass. You shoot up straight and turned around, backing away from Packer to stand beside Jim.

"What the actual fuck dude?" You said, your heart beating fast from the shock of it all. Pam looked up, confused, and Jim looked concerned.

"Wait, what happened?" Jim asked, and you held onto your friend's arm tightly.

"He just grabbed my ass!" You exclaimed, and Jim looks from you, to Packer, and back to you, his usual happy smile being replaced by a look of complete anger.

"What the Hell man? You don't get to touch her like that." Jim walked straight up to Packer, shoving him back and quickly catching the attention of Michael.

"Tease was asking for it. And what are you going to do, Queer?" Packer taunted Jim, but before punches we're thrown, Michael stepped in.

"Slim-Jim, what's the problem? Why are you attacking our guest?" Michael asked, and Jim took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

"Your best friend Packer just groped Y/N." Jim accused, and Michael looked shocked.

"Todd?" He asked, and Jim eyes rolled as the asshole feigned innocence.

"Your man has it twisted Michael. I didn't do a damn thing Y/N didn't want..." He said, and you stepped forward.

"What is that supposed to mean? You grabbed my ass Packer, it wasn't wanted." You tried to defend yourself, pulling your blazer tighter across your body to cover the form fitting dress.

"Truth be told Michael, last time I was here Y/N and I... Well, long story short, she wasn't complaining about were my hands were the morning after." Todd said, and Jim nearly exploded.

"So, you're using a fake hookup to justify the fact you just sexually assaulted Y/N?" Jim laughed, but Michael had a straight face, looking directly at you.

"Seems like a misunderstanding to me. Let's all just cool off and come back Monday." Michael said slowly, and Pam's jaw dropped in shock. You and Michael went back years, he had been there for you through your mom's death and helped you moved from an internship in the warehouse to a sales post in the office. You had been a team, for years.

But Michael made a decision that Todd was more important than you.

"I did not sleep with Todd, Michael. You know that... So how pathetic do you have to be to believe that asshole over me?" You asked, grabbing your things and letting Jim lead you out of the office, Pam following behind. The three of you walked from the office to Poor Richards, and it was only once you sat down that you noticed your hands shaking.

"I swear I didn't sleep with him guys... You have to believe me." You blurted out, feeling tears on their way. Pam hugged you tightly, and Jim rubbed your back gently.

"Of course we believe you Y/N. God, he's a whole new level of dickhead." Pam reassured you, and you smiled weakly between the two.

"Can... Can we get drunk please? Need to get my mind off of Michael's betrayal." You tried to laugh, but it made you want to cry more. Jim jumped up, designated courier for your booth to the bar.

Tonight was going to lead to an hangover in the morning, but you didn't care one bit.

189 notes · View notes

twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

Text

Written In The Stars CXXXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Only six chapters to go!! -Danny

Words: 5,233

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘How To Be Yours’ -by Chris Renzema

Chapter Thirty: O.W.L.'s

It was chaos after Fred and George's departure.

Mel didn't even have to lift a finger to make sure the school was having a good amount of incidents, everywhere she went something was always happening, people were eager to copy the twins' doings, and the teachers had no intention to stop them.

The Inquisitorial Squad was in hell, which was what Mel had been dreaming for months. Something not so great was Erick as the main target of people that didn't know he was helping. Despite this, the D.A. knew about his friendship with Mel and they were very careful to keep him safe from any major harm.

"When Mum's next letter finally gets through Umbridge's screening process I'm going to be in deep trouble. I wouldn't be surprised if she's sent a Howler again."

"But —"

"It'll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait," said Ron. "She'll say I should've stopped them leaving, I should've grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something... Yeah, it'll be all my fault..."

"Well, if she does say that it'll be very unfair, you couldn't have done anything! But I'm sure she won't, I mean, if it's really true they've got premises in Diagon Alley now, they must have been planning this for ages..." Hermione said.

"Yeah, but that's another thing, how did they get premises? It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? They'll need loads of Galleons to afford the rent on a place in Diagon Alley, she'll want to know what they've been up to, to get their hands on that sort of gold..."

"Well, yes, that occurred to me too, I've been wondering whether Mundungus has persuaded them to sell stolen goods or something awful..."

"He hasn't," said Harry.

"How do you know?" asked Ron and Hermione.

"Because —" Harry glanced at Mel. "Because they got the gold from me. I gave them my Triwizard winnings last June."

"Oh, Harry, you didn't!" Hermione gasped.

"Yes, I did. And I don't regret it either — I didn't need the gold, and they'll be great at a joke shop..."

"But this is excellent! It's all your fault, Harry — Mum can't blame me at all! Can I tell her?"

"You really are Harry's best friend, aren't you?" Mel snorted.

"Yeah, I suppose you'd better," said Harry. "'Specially if she thinks they're receiving stolen cauldrons or something..."

Once on the school grounds, she heard Harry and Hermione still arguing about it.

"It's no good nagging me, it's done! Fred and George have got the gold — spent a good bit of it too, by the sounds of it — and I can't get it back from them and I don't want to. So save your breath, Hermione."

"I wasn't going to say anything about Fred and George!"

Ron snorted.

"No, I wasn't!" She insisted. "As a matter of fact, I was going to ask Harry if he's going to go back to Snape and ask for Occlumency lessons again! You can't tell me you've stopped having funny dreams, because Ron told me last night you were muttering in your sleep again."

"You were only muttering a bit," Ron blushed. "Something about 'just a bit farther.' "

"I dreamed I was watching you lot play Quidditch," Harry lied. "I was trying to get you to stretch out a bit farther to grab the Quaffle."

"Wow, that was brutal," Mel grimaced. "If I were you, Ron, I'd sneak some farting bubbles in his pumpkin juice..."

Ron's ears turned red from embarrassment and annoyance, Hermione pinched Mel's arm and she complained, but Harry looked very pleased about his own behaviour.

"You are trying to block your mind, aren't you?" Hermione pushed.

"Of course I am," said Harry, his eyes darting away from his friend's face. "Mel's been helping me lots, haven't you, Mel?"

"Sure thing," Mel lied. "He's making progress. Honestly, I think I'm a better teacher than Snape."

Truth be told they hadn't practised at all after Fred and George left school. Mel was busy with her homework and Quidditch practice, and not once Harry had asked her to help him with Occlumency. Probably because he didn't want her to look into some private memories again.

"You know," said Ron, "if Montague doesn't recover before Slytherin play Hufflepuff, we might be in with a chance of winning the Cup."

"Yeah, I s'pose so," said Harry, eager to change the subject.

"I mean, we've won one, lost one — if Slytherin lose to Hufflepuff next Saturday —"

"Yeah, that's right," Harry's eyes followed Cho's figure as she crossed the courtyard without looking at him once.

"You know," Mel said quietly. "You shouldn't force it... When things are meant to be, they just happen."

The morning of their game against Ravenclaw Mel was a nervous wreck. She was stuffing herself with all the food she could reach.

"You'll throw up if you keep eating like that!" Hermione took the bowl of fruit from her hands.

"I need that!"

"You don't."

"I mean, I can't get any worse, can I?" Ron said anxiously. "Nothing to lose now, is there?"

"If you keep saying that I'll kill you," Mel groaned. "I'm going to pass out, I just know it..."

As she and Ron were leaving the Hall, Harry tried to catch up with them, but Mel was so entranced in her own thoughts that she didn't hear him yell until he tried another name.

"Dumbledore girl!"

Mel turned back, her eyes landed on Harry and her frown vanished.

"Oh," She blinked. "What's up?"

"It's your first game as Seeker," He shook her hand, squeezing a little. "Best of luck... Can I ask you a favour?"

"Okay?"

"Give hell to Cho," He smirked. "Only during the game, though."

She chuckled.

"I'll do my best, Glasses."

Both of them froze.

"I'm sorry," She stammered. "I wasn't thinking, I—"

"It's okay," Harry replied softly, his eyes shining at the nickname.

A little voice whispered in her ear: 'Not again.'

"I have to go," She said, turning hot on her heel and leaving a startled Harry behind.

"And here they come! The Weasleys! Johnson! Bell! Spinnet! Sloper! and Dumbledore! This is Mel's first game as a seeker — Cheers, Mel!"

"I'm so full of shit..." Mel whispered tensely.

"And they're off! And Davies takes the Quaffle immediately, Ravenclaw Captain Davies with the Quaffle, he dodges Johnson, he dodges Bell, he dodges Spinnet as well... He's going straight for goal! He's going to shoot — and — and — Shit! And he's scored."

As predicted, the tune of 'Weasley is our king' started around the stands. Mel took a deep breath coming to terms with the fact that this was beyond her control, all she could do now was focus on catching the snitch. As Bradley plummeted towards Ron, the boy threw himself to the right and he... stopped the Quaffle.

A brief moment of stunned silence surrounded them, then, just as quickly, the Gryffindor crowd erupted into cheers. Mel shared a look of genuine shock with Ginny, then she looked back at her friend, who was frozen in disbelief.

"You got this, Ron!" She shouted.

Mel could only describe what happened next as pure magic. Ron stopped every single attempt to score from the Ravenclaws one after the other. He did all this with truly impressive manoeuvres as well. Angelina was beaming with pride, Katie and Alicia were at the top of their game too; even Jack was doing a decent job.

Ginny was having a blast, throwing the bludgers around to the opposite team. Mel and Cho would circle the game above everyone, and with every passing minute Cho started to look more and more anxious. Mel tried to keep a neutral attitude towards her, but apparently, Cho had witnessed the moment when Harry chased after her to wish her good luck personally. It wasn't Mel's fault, his loyalty was towards Gryffindor, not her!

An hour after it had started what it was by far the best game of the season, Mel caught a glimpse of something golden at the end of Ravenclaw's side of the field. She flew fast towards it, but Cho was right behind her. She took a sharp turn when a chaser flew right in front of her, causing her (and Cho) to lose sight of the snitch.

The girls went back up with grumpy expressions, but then she looked down to see how the game was going and spotted the snitch two feet away from the tail of Cho's broom. Mel swore loudly and gave another abrupt turn, circling Chang's broom. The tail barely grazed her shoulder as she chased after the tiny thing. Mel stretched out her hand and in one sudden movement, she seized it.

The game was officially over, and Gryffindor had won.

Mel stared down at the object on her palm as she landed, she was tackled into a hug by the whole team, Ron was in the middle of it, being the star of the match. Only then she realized the lyrics of the song had changed.

Weasley is our King,

He didn't let the Quaffle in,

Weasley is our King...

Weasley can save anything,

He never leaves a single ring

That's why Gryffindors all sing:

Weasley is our King.

Angelina was a crying mess as well as Alicia, this being their last game probably felt like a miracle sent from heaven. Katie and Ginny were euphoric, Jack couldn't believe their luck. Every girl in the team kissed Ron on the cheek and Jack patted his shoulder roughly. Mel got her own round of hugs and kisses, and they were both suddenly lifted in the air, guided to the stands so they could receive the Quidditch cup from none other than Umbridge herself.

Sure, instant gratification was all right, but nothing was quite as pleasant as the absolute outrage in Umbridge's face when the cup reached Mel and Ron's hands, both of them lifting the cup proudly for everyone to see.

As the crowd guided them back to the castle, Ron shouted.

"HARRY! HERMIONE! WE DID IT! WE WON!"

She looked to where he was yelling and found their friends beaming at them. Mel's eyes fixed on Harry's expression, he hadn't looked that happy since last June. She was delighted to be part of the reason why he was smiling like that.

"Hagrid's keeping a what in the forest?"

Hermione hushed her, they were in their room long after the party had ended, the girl had sneaked into her bed to talk about what they'd done during the Quidditch match. Turns out that neither she nor Harry had seen it, Hagrid appeared and asked them to follow him into the forbidden forest. There he introduced them to his half brother, which happened to be:

"A young giant?" Her voice came out muffled since Hermione was covering her mouth. "He spends his afternoons being his brother's punching bag?"

"He reckons he's helping him become... er... civilized," Hermione said. "It's awful, really. Grawp looks like he'd much rather spend his time chasing down centaurs than learning how to spell 'tree'."

"And he made you promise we would look after him? No. Absolutely not."

"We don't have a choice —"

"We don't even know if he'll get fired!"

"Do you really think Umbridge will let him stay? I mean, Harry and I were the ones who promised anyway, so you're not obliged —"

"Don't be silly," Mel rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't leave you alone — And let's be honest, I'm stronger than you when it comes to magical defense, I'm probably the one who's got a bigger chance to control a small giant."

"You're probably right..." Hermione sighed. "I couldn't bring myself to tell Ron — Neither could Harry! We couldn't..."

"I guess we can't do much besides sit and worry, can we?"

"Yeah, reckon so."

"I always said there was no use in sitting and worrying," She pouted. "But usually that's the only thing I'm able to do..."

"Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Davies's, so I wasn't feeling that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came toward me, just out of nowhere, I thought — you can do this!" Ron was describing his first saved for the third time. "And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goal hoop — my right, obviously, his left — but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left — his right, I mean — and — well — you saw what happened."

The boy pushed his hair back and made it messier. They were sitting outside, trying to enjoy the fresh air of the afternoon, the sight reminded her of a scene that though she wasn't originally there to witness, now was part of her memories.

"And then, when Chambers came at me about five minutes later — what?" Ron stared at her and Harry. "Why are you two grinning?"

"I'm not," Harry glimpsed at Mel and knew they were thinking about the same thing. "I'm just glad we won, that's all."

"Yeah... we won," Ron agreed wistfully. "Did you see the look on Chang's face when Mel got the Snitch right out from under her nose?"

"I suppose she cried, did she?"

"Wow, you definitely didn't sound bitter at all," Mel snorted.

"Well, yeah — more out of temper than anything, though..." Ron was right, but Mel didn't feel particularly proud of this, it wasn't like she wanted Cho to throw a tantrum, she just wanted to win. "But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?"

"Er..."

"Well, actually... no, Ron," Hermione closed her book. "As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Harry and I saw was Davies's first goal."

"You didn't watch?" Ron visibly deflated. "You didn't see me make any of those saves?"

"Well — no. But Ron, we didn't want to leave — we had to!"

"Yeah?" The boy started to get annoyed. "How come?"

"It was Hagrid," Harry explained. "He decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets... Anyway..."

By the end, Ron had forgotten he was even mad.

"He brought one back and hid it in the forest?" He whispered.

"Yep," said Harry simply.

"No... no, he can't have..."

"Well, he has," Hermione stated. "Grawp's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me," the girl snorted, "as Hermy."

Ron laughed nervously, Mel chortled.

"You didn't tell me about your nickname last night!"

"Because I knew you would tease me endlessly," The girl rolled her eyes.

"And Hagrid wants us to..?"

"Teach him English, yeah," Harry replied with a crooked smile.

"He's lost his mind," Ron concluded.

"Yes," Hermione responded. "Yes, I'm starting to think he has. But unfortunately, he made Harry and me promise."

"Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all. I mean, come on... We've got exams and we're about that far," he made a gesture with his fingers, a millimetre of space keeping them from touching, "from being chucked out as it is. And anyway... remember Norbert? Remember Aragog? Have we ever come off better for mixing with any of Hagrid's monster mates?"

"I know, it's just that — we promised..." Hermione pouted.

"Well... Hagrid hasn't been sacked yet, has he? He's hung on this long, maybe he'll hang on till the end of term and we won't have to go near Grawp at all."

Panic rose over the fifth-years as June welcomed them into the busiest start of summer of their lives. Mel was sick of studying, so she spent her afternoons helping some classmates review their subjects. In exchange, Neville helped her with Herbology, he was a marvellous tutor.

Erick had seen her one time after the Quidditch final, the boy was preoccupied with studying for his own exams. Next year would be Erick's seventh and last, and he was determined to become the Headboy. Mel asked him if it hadn't lost its charm now that Umbridge was headmistress, but Erick merely shrugged and assured her there was no way that woman would be there next year.

"You know what?" Mel yawned. "I wouldn't mind chucking down my throat some doxy droppings to see if they can pull me out of my misery. I hate feeling like I'm not good enough, I don't know how my dad did this for seven years..."

"Cheer up," Ron tried to pat her shoulder, touching the wall instead. "You're only saying that because you have no patience. You're the smartest witch in our year right after 'Mione — You got this. Now shut up and let me worry in peace."

"Remember our vow?" She smirked, nudging his arm. "The one about us being awful together?"

Ron looked at her. "Well, if Miss Popular's done ignoring her old friends, then yeah, I remember."

"I admit I was a bit of a prat this year," Mel made a face. "But I would never change you for a stranger! You're my best friend!"

"You say that all the time," The boy rolled his eyes, but put his arm around her shoulders anyway. "Keep saying it, it's nice to hear."

Mel snorted, elbowing his side playfully.

She did splendidly on her examination, she was the first out of the four to be called in for her practical exam. Professor Marchbanks was delighted to have her.

"Dumbledore, aren't you?" She asked eagerly. "Yes, yes... Oh well dear, what are you waiting for? Do your best..."

It was the first time in a while that her routine was exactly like everyone else's. Their classmates were buzzing with anxiety and none of them looked exactly happy, some older students would try to sell them fake brain stimula but Hermione was quick to put an end to it. Mel was strangely thrilled about being part of it all. She was, at last, just another student trying to pass the year.

All in all, even if she was just another student, there was no denying that she had way more advanced knowledge in some areas. Mel outdid her D.A.D.A exam and the only time she hesitated when answering a theoretical test was during Herbology, which if anything, turned out to be humbling. She didn't want to have all her success inflating her head again, she wasn't planning on becoming the next James Potter, no matter how close she'd been to be one that year.

They had a whole weekend ahead before they had to take the rest of their O.W.L.S, Harry, Ron, and Mel sat in the common room and played chess to release some tension. Mel was watching them, but she was too sleepy to pay attention and ended up taking a nap on Ron's shoulder.

Hermione entered the common room in such an agitated way that Mel gave a start, bumping heads with Ron.

"How were the runes?" Ron mumbled as he rubbed the side of his face.

"I mistranslated 'ehwaz'! It means 'partnership,' not 'defense,' I mixed it up with 'eihwaz.'"

"Ah well," The boy yawned, "that's only one mistake, isn't it, you'll still get —"

"Oh shut up. It could be the one mistake that makes the difference between a pass and a fail. And what's more, someone's put another niffler in Umbridge's office, I don't know how they got it through that new door, but I just walked past there and Umbridge is shrieking her head off — by the sound of it, it tried to take a chunk out of her leg —"

"Good," said the three.

"It is not good! She thinks it's Hagrid doing it, remember? And we do not want Hagrid chucked out!"

"He's teaching at the moment, she can't blame him," said Harry, pointing over at the window.

"Oh, you're so naive sometimes, Harry, you really think Umbridge will wait for proof?" Hermione scoffed, leaving them there to storm off to her room.

"Such a lovely, sweet-tempered girl," Ron murmured.

Since Hermione didn't abandon her constant state of anger and anxiety, Mel's friends designated her as the study guide so she supervised everyone.

Potions passed rather easily, she was getting quite good at it, though she was far from being the best. Care of Magical Creatures was a different story, she'd always been good with animals. On Wednesday she had her Astronomy O.W.L, and that's when things got ugly, though not in the way she was expecting.

Even if her love for the night sky had been damaged thanks to Divination, she was still fond of the stars, not that they could tell her anything about her current situation, but they were a peaceful and bright constant. It was comforting, even if the world was about to end, little would change outside their planet, and eventually, things would move on.

As she looked down to rearrange her parchment, her eyes landed on several figures moving towards Hagrid's cabin, one of them with a particularly stiff way of walking. Umbridge knocked on the cabin's front door and Hagrid opened it. Hermione was right after all, the woman was ready to chop one more head before the end of the term.

Harry was watching as well. Professor Marchbanks walked behind him and he quickly returned his eyes to the map he was making, Mel stayed still, looking directly to the cabin instead of the sky.

Someone yelled. Several students turned their attention to the school grounds and Professor Tofty cleared his throat.

"Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls — twenty minutes to go."

Mel looked down and skimmed through her map, she had finished, she only needed to—

BANG!

The girl pushed her telescope aside and walked up to the railing, too worried to care about the points the Professors could take from her.

Hagrid's door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin they saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him.

"No!"

"My dear!" said Professor Tofty. "This is an examination!"

"They're attacking him!" Mel responded.

"Be reasonable, Hagrid!"

"Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!"

Why was an Auror there if Hagrid was only being fired? Why bring law enforcement to something as silly as a sacking?

Mel blessed Hagrid's half-giant origins because they kept him from getting injured, the spells would bounce off of him when thrown in disorder, but the Aurors were trained people, they started to attack him at the same time. Hagrid grabbed one of the men and threw him in the air, leaving him limp on the ground.

"Look!" Parvati gasped.

"Now, really! Only sixteen minutes left, you know!" Professor Tofty insisted.

Mel turned to leave the tower, Ron grabbed a hold of her arm and stopped her.

"He needs help!"

"Look!" Ron pointed out.

"How dare you! How dare you!"

"It's McGonagall!" Hermione gasped.

"Leave him alone! Alone, I say! On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such —"

The girls around her screamed, McGonagall received a total of four stunning spells that threw her back, she didn't stand up again.

"Galloping gargoyles! Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!" Professor Tofty exclaimed.

"COWARDS! RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT — AN' THAT —"

"Oh my —"

Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked cold.

Harry saw him double over and thought for a moment that he had finally been overcome by a spell, but on the contrary, next moment Hagrid was standing again with what appeared to be a sack on his back — then Harry realized that Fang's limp body was draped around his shoulders.

"Get him, get him!"

"Ron, let me go!"

"If you go there you'll get expelled! What can you do against trained Aurors?"

"More than you can imagine!" She growled. "I said, let me go!"

Ron jumped back and held his hand with wide eyes. He had blisters on his palm as if he'd burnt himself on a stove. Mel froze, unable to know how on earth she'd managed to do that.

"He's gone!" Harry said out loud. "Hagrid's leaving!"

"That evil woman!" Hermione exclaimed. "Trying to sneak up on Hagrid in the dead of night!"

"She clearly wanted to avoid another scene like Trelawney's," Ernie Macmillan responded.

"That cow," Mel was pale from both, fury and shock. Ron was doing his best to stand as far from her as possible.

"Hagrid did well, didn't he?" He asked, careful to hide his hand from the others. "How come all the spells bounced off him?"

"It'll be his giant blood," Hermione frowned. "It's very hard to Stun a giant, they're like trolls, really tough... But poor Professor McGonagall... Four Stunners straight in the chest, and she's not exactly young, is she?"

"Stop," Mel felt an all too familiar coldness on the tips of her fingers. "She will get better, she's a tough woman..."

"Dreadful, dreadful," said Ernie, reminding her a bit to Lockhart. "Well, I'm off to bed.. 'Night, all."

"At least they didn't get to take Hagrid off to Azkaban," Ron continued. "I 'spect he's gone to join Dumbledore, hasn't he?"

"I suppose so... oh, this is awful, I really thought Dumbledore would be back before long, but now we've lost Hagrid too..."

"I... I have to... bathroom..." Mel looked around desperately, squeezing the fabric of her robes between her hands to dry them. "This is not — sorry —"

She ran, already gawking by the time she managed to open the door to one of the stalls. Everything inside her felt unsteady, she wanted to help Hagrid but she couldn't, and now they didn't have him, nor Dumbledore, and who knew if McGonagall was going to recover...

She'd hurt Ron without meaning to — just like Ariana Dumbledore, she'd felt a bit of herself slipping away in her frustration and anger, she understood why it had been so easy for that girl to lose control... But she wasn't crazy! This had been an accident, and she was going to fix it... But what if things escalated before she could find a way to stop?

Someone walked in and followed the noises she was making, she hadn't even tried to close the door to her toilet. Mel closed her eyes tightly, taking a shaky breath.

"I'm okay!" She said, but it was quite obvious in her voice that she was sobbing. "Please go!"

"How many times do I have to tell you —" She jumped at the sound of his exasperated tone, "not to run when you have an attack? It makes it harder to breathe!"

Mel scowled at him without getting up from the floor. It was disgusting, she was unable to calm her breathing, she couldn't reply properly. Harry crouched down next to her and she tensed, but the boy raised both hands to ease her, supporting one on the wall to not lose his balance.

"I won't touch you if you don't want me to," He said, "tell me what you need — Don't ask me to leave you, though — can't be on your own..."

Mel shook her head, swallowing harshly.

"I can't — I can't breathe —"

"Yeah, well, you ran all the way to the bathrooms," He stated. "But it's okay —"

"I wanted to help... but Ron —" Her voice broke. "I hurt him..."

"He showed me," Harry said, then quickly added. "He's not angry."

"I'm going crazy — I can't control it —"

"You're not crazy," Harry moved slightly so he could face her. "Look at me — Don't think about it, just look at me..."

She didn't want to, didn't want him as the witness of her frailty, but it was the only person around. Mel looked up and focused solely on him.

"You're not crazy," He repeated, his eyes fixed on hers. "Going to the school grounds would've gotten you expelled."

Mel shook her head in a sort of childish manner, her breathing was reaching a reasonable rhythm. She closed her eyes tightly and pressed her lips together to stop crying, but it didn't work.

"What's your cat's name?" He asked in a clear voice.

"What?"

"Your cat," He said. "What's his name?"

"Grey..?" Mel picked up on what he was doing and continued. "One... One, two, three, four letters... G— R— E— Y... and he's black... B— L— A— C— K..."

"That's right," He smiled a little. "Good job..."

The counting and spelling was a game her mother used to distract Mel whenever she was feeling anxious. Harry knew it since they were kids.

"Did you know..." She said weakly, "you're the only idiot who always sees me cry like this?"

Harry snorted, sitting down with his back against the wall.

"That can't be true."

"It is."

"What about Hermione?"

"No," She pushed herself away from the toilet and sat on the floor fully.

"Fred?" Harry looked at her with scepticism. "Erick?"

"Maybe teared up a bit, but... I only cry like this when... do you really think I'm not crazy?"

"It's me who everyone's calling mental."

"Yes, but that's a lie."

"Same with you."

"Dumbledore said —"

"Dumbledore can't know it all, can he? Or he would've warned Hagrid about Umbridge before leaving."

"...maybe," She cleaned her face with the back of her sleeve. "I didn't mean to hurt Ron."

"He doesn't blame you," Harry stood up. "He said it was a foolish thing to do... he should've known better than to try and stop you."

"Don't say it like that," Mel frowned. "Like it's not a problem — I shouldn't... I should have better control —"

"You do," He said, helping her to her feet. "But you have to make mistakes sometimes, genius and all."

"I'm not a genius," She scoffed. "I'm a twat."

"Who said you can't be both?" Harry taunted. "This is the boy's bathroom, by the way."

"Oh blimey," said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. "It's me's been putting the nifflers in her office, Fred and George left me a couple, I've been levitating them in through her window..."

"She'd have sacked him anyway," Dean shook his head. "He was too close to Dumbledore."

"That's true," Harry fell back on his chair tiredly.

"I just hope Professor McGonagall's all right," said Lavender.

"They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window," Colin Creevey informed them. "She didn't look very well..."

"Madam Pomfrey will sort her out," said Alicia. "She's never failed yet."

"I doubt she would let herself die in such a way," Mel added calmly. "She won't leave this earth without making sure Umbridge gets fired... and neither will I."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

10 notes · View notes

osomagine-san · 4 years

Note

I know I requested about the brothers S/O passing away, how about their only child passing away? I’m sorry, I love angst haha

Don’t apologize! I love it, too >:3 Good thing there are so many different ways to grieve/handle trauma! I made ‘em all longer than the last one, too

Osomatsu kind of... gives up.

His kid meant everything to him. He loved- no, loves, them so much. They never fought or had big spats-- not that the kid was the best-behaved kid in the world, but Osomatsu would always have a sort of childishness to him that bonded him so effortlessly to them. They were inseparable-- the kid was like a little mini him, and he loved them so much.

Standing in front of their grave with the rest of their family long gone was a lonelier feeling than I can describe or even really relate to-- to lose a child is, to my knowledge, one of the worst things you can experience. So young, too...

He remembers the day it happened. Before he even knew it had happened, he felt his heart suddenly leap into his throat, like he himself was in danger. He wasn’t-- he’d just been watching TV-- so what could the problem be?

As time goes on, he feels the same way. There’s a big, gaping hole inside of him that can’t be filled-- and oh boy, did he ever try to fill it. Alcohol didn’t work, food didn’t work, and talking about it didn’t work, either. There was nothing to be done. All he can do is sit in his sadness and... what? What does he do?

There’s a day, though, where he’s just sitting by himself. The pain is beginning to ebb. Thinking about the most beautiful child that was ever born doesn’t hurt so much at that particular moment. The days that they spent together were the most wonderful days of his life, and right then, he knows that his kid would be so mad at him if he just sat there feeling sad about them. They’d be so mad if they were forgotten or blocked out, too. The memories continue, and he cycles through them like one might cycle through the playlist on an old CD a friend had burned for them years ago. He’d start to cry.

━━━━━━

[Warning for death via car accident and a depiction of dissociation.]

It was strange, on the day of the loss, to see Karamatsu so loud.

He’d immediately called his brothers to the hospital when the accident had happened. When they arrived, Karamatsu was screaming at the poor receptionist, trying to wrangle any amount of information out of her. This was his son. He needed to see him immediately.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the receptionist said, “but I really can’t tell you anything. There isn’t anything to tell. I don’t have any updates.”

He had to be dragged away from her with the combined force of all five of his brothers.

Osomatsu had managed to calm him down the most. His attitude was so genuinely carefree that it somehow relaxed Karamatsu-- if someone could just laugh and shrug it off, maybe he was just making a big deal out of the situation.

It’s not that he felt like it was certain that everything would be alright, but he, at least, was able to relax.

He doesn’t quite remember what happens next-- just little moments. Following the doctor to the room where his son was lying, bruised and bloody and broken. The sight of his face was clear as day, but his brain did him the favour of blocking the rest out. Voices that sounded far away, comfort just outside of his grasp. The only thing his mind let through was the sound of the even, flat tone the heart monitor had taken.

Days went past in a bit of a blur, like that. Even the funeral passed by in the blink of an eye, and Karamatsu was present for it only in body.

Almost two weeks had passed before he came back to. He hadn’t lost every detail of his memory; he just gained awareness that he’d been floating around for the last two weeks without really accomplishing anything.

He checked the time-- one thirty in the morning. As he got up (good god was he ever hungry-- had he eaten anything?), he noticed that he was back at his parents’ house. His brothers were all back in their futon, sound asleep. It was a comforting sight. Things had gone back a few years.

He just reheated whatever leftovers were in the fridge-- in this house, there were always leftovers.

He went over it all that night. He recalled the majority of the last two weeks, even if he wasn’t totally present for them. He had a memory of Osomatsu and Todomatsu teaming up, poking at him, trying to get him to respond. Their persistence lasted a surprisingly long time. Osomatsu wanted to draw something lewd on his face and Choromatsu yelling at him not to do that. He’d responded, then, but he couldn’t quite remember what he’d said.

He sighed while he thought about his son. He should have been there, or done something, or something... He wasn’t sure what. He also didn’t really feel guilty about it-- it couldn’t possibly have been his fault. Sure, if he’d kept a better eye on him, it wouldn’t have happened; but it was more on the driver! That text message could have waited! That truck had mangled his only son, and now he was left with nothing.

“...Except for my leftovers.”

“Jyushimatsu, please don’t read my thoughts right now.”

━━━━━━

[Warning for death via illness.]

Choromatsu really only has the one way of dealing with pain and grief-- and it’s cleaning. He cleans the whole house over and over again until it’s completely spotless.

It’s obvious to those who are close to him (such as his partner) that there are some things that he just doesn’t touch very much. For example, the door to their daughter’s room was closed after the incident and he never went in there. She was a messy kid, too-- her clothes and toys still covered the floor to the point you couldn’t step anywhere without stepping on something.

There were also dozens of empty pill bottles on the nightstand as well as a little heart monitor next to her alarm clock (that she hadn’t used in the past year, since she wasn’t really attending school, anymore). There were also a lot of cups and glasses that had yet to be taken back down to the kitchen and washed-- the icing on the cake of this little situation would be finding mould in what used to be cups of various juices.

There were other things that Choromatsu hadn’t touched-- her little shoes were still lined up neatly at the door, and they hadn’t been touched in a long time. Choromatsu had been the one to line them up there in the first place. It was a Friday-- the last day she went to school. She wasn’t feeling well so he was going to let her stay home the following Saturday, but just before dinner, she collapsed.

They had a little whiteboard with a calendar on it. They used to cross off every day-- when Choromatsu or his partner forgot, their daughter would always step up and do it herself. She never let it slip her mind (unlike all of the homework she had due).

It was painful, but his partner had to bite the bullet and clean out their daughter’s room. It just had to happen. It had been two months and it was starting to feel unhealthy to keep all of that right there, and it was clear that the two of them weren’t going to have another kid anytime soon.

Choromatsu found the door open and his partner cleaning it out. Most of their daughter’s things were packed in clear garbage bags.

“What are you doing?! We can’t throw this out!” Choromatsu never yelled at his partner, but he was just so shocked.

“I’m not throwing it out,” they replied. “This just makes it easier to carry. I rented a storage unit and I’m going to put it all there. I’ll need help with the furni-”

“What?! Why?! You can’t just take all of her things like she was never even he-”

“I’m not! I’m not pretending like she never existed! I’m not trying to get rid of her.”

“Then why don’t you talk about her?”

“What?” They tilted their head and put down the bag that they were piling clean clothes out of the dresser into.

“You just...” Choromatsu looked at his partner and saw all of the times he’d spent with them, and with... her. His voice broke. “You just go quiet when she’s mentioned. You don’t say anything to me. You go back to work, and you smile, and you...”

“Oh, come here.” They hold Choromatsu tightly. He’d started to cry. “I don’t go quiet when she’s mentioned. I try to change the subject when someone brings her up around you. I know that you’re having a hard time dealing with this... I just hate seeing you upset.”

He held his partner close.

“I think,” they continued, “that having all of this stuff around doesn’t help anyone. I think we need it out of the house, at least for a little while. We don’t have to put everything away, but... a lot of it takes up a lot of space.” Choromatsu nodded. “And a lot of these glasses are disgusting.” He laughed lightly, despite the tears. “No, I’m serious. I’d rather just throw a lot of these out.”

━━━━━━

The relationship that Ichimatsu had to have been in ended shortly after the death of his daughter. He loved his family, and losing one member of it was too much. He had to cut out the other.

He became rude and crass with his partner; lazy, never picked up after himself until they just left him. There was no relief-- as soon as they were gone, he realized that he was testing them. And they had failed.

Oh, well. Better that ended sooner rather than later. He knew he could have been a little more kind (they were going through the same thing, after all), but he wasn’t. And he didn’t really care that he wasn’t-- he deserved it, after all. He deserved to lose that child and he deserved to lose his partner.

He lost his job because he just stopped showing up. He wasn’t qualified for it, anyways-- he’d been with them for a few years at that point, and it was only an entry-level job, but anything like that was better than he should have had.

He wound up back at his parents’ house. The cold and almost even cruel outer shell he’d developed was apparently his personality, now. He couldn’t stop being rude and ungrateful, and he hated himself for it-- but again, he didn’t deserve the kindness his parents were showing him, anyways. What did it matter? They might as well throw him out on the streets.

Of course, they didn’t. With a bit of love, Ichimatsu very gradually started to open up again. It started with his cat friends, who cycled through visiting. At first, he felt like he didn’t deserve it, or them. As they continued coming, though, he realized that the cats didn’t really care about that. They had no grasp on “good” or “bad”-- the only thing they had a grasp on was that he was kind to them.

The idea that maybe there was no such thing as “good” or “bad” was liberating to him. He didn’t deserve the cats’ affections, and at the same time, he so did. To love is to give without asking for anything in return.

He gave his child as much as he could while he could. There was no force of fate that put them in his life, and none that took them away. Sometimes, things just happened and it didn’t always have to mean something.

He probably never got together with another partner or ever had another child, but he started a cat adoption center. He let strays come and go as they please, and took in cats that were abandoned and gave them to loving homes.

━━━━━━

A hole manifested itself in Jyushimatsu’s life, and no matter what he did, he just couldn’t shake it. It was omnipresent, and the hole pestered and festered until he couldn’t take it anymore, and then some.

The hole manifested itself in strange and different ways-- sometimes as a void in his chest where his heart should be; on days like that, he’d clutch at the fabric of his sweater, like he was expecting something to be there, and then come up short. The surprise would cross his face only for a moment before he continued on like it had never happened.

Sometimes it was a sudden chill that he couldn’t quite shake. The initial shiver lasted only a moment, but the cold stayed with him until he’d fall asleep that night.

A couple of times, it manifested in shadows. He’d stare into the darkest corners of the room, and it would be hard for him to pull his eyes away. They had a presence, almost.

Either way, after the initial accident, he was able to mostly fully recover afterwards. There were some harder days when he could hardly make it out of bed, sure, but as more and more time passed, the fewer and fewer those days became.

The hole stayed with him, though.

━━━━━━

Todomatsu genuinely loses all memory of losing his son.

He continues his days as normal. He calls for him to go to school, and he comments a lot about how little TV his son has been watching. He’ll continue on to say how proud he is of him, because all that time must be spent studying, right?

His partner doesn’t know what to do. It’s hard to tolerate sometimes, because they feel so alone. Their worst fear had just happened, and the one person they thought they could share in their grief with was only making it hurt worse. They’ve broken down in front of him, begging him to remember, but he only got concerned for his S/O. Before they called his brothers, they thought that they were going crazy.

They got in all kinds of fights about him. Todomatsu, stubborn as ever, refused to believe or acknowledge it. He was beyond defensive about the topic-- he was rather laid back about most other things. He and his S/O had never fought like this about anything.

It’s during summer vacation that Todomatsu starts coming to. He notices that his son is nowhere to be found. He must be at a friend’s house, he thinks. His S/O had notified the other parents at their kids’ school that Todomatsu was having trouble coping with the loss, so the parent of his son’s best friend knew that trying to tell Todomatsu what had happened would amount to nothing. Of course, they didn’t lie to him when he called after a week, worried-- they told him straight up that they hadn’t seen his son in a long time.

In a panic, he called a lot of other parents-- even those that didn’t like his son. He was missing, and he needed to find him.

His S/O got a few calls from concerned parents about the situation and went home early. They found Todomatsu on the floor, sobbing and panting.

“I think something bad happened.”

#annetheman #Osomatsu #Karmatsu #Choromatsu #Ichimatsu #Jyushimatsu #Todomatsu #Ososan #Osomatsu-san #Osomatsu-san imagines #Imagines #Imagine #Angst #Ososan imagines #I wanted to leave Totty's ending ambiguous because I could not decide how I wanted it to end #Also I didn't want it to drag on and on #Also be honest does it show that I have 0 idea how to write Jyushimatsu???

49 notes · View notes

hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

Text

The Flour Follies (one shot)

Characters: Loki x Reader

Genre: Pure, unadulterated fluff

Rating: PG-13, some kissing and a bit of innuendo

Summary: When you are left behind from the latest Avengers mission, you turn to cooking to ease your anxieties, but the God of Mischief can’t help but get in the way.

A/N: This is for @babylevines 4k writing challenge! Congrats on so many followers! My prompt was: “You can’t be mean, because I cook the food… and I could technically poison you.”

“Ow! God that hurt!”

It was oddly quiet in the Compound, despite your cursing. The majority of the team had left on a mission, leaving you and Loki behind. Untested and untrusted, both of you. You weren’t ‘ready’ for it yet, and Loki hadn’t fully proven himself to be trustworthy in perilous situations. He probably never would, even though he had been living here for almost a year without incident. Well, serious incident.

One can’t fault the God of Mischief for pulling a few harmless pranks - although his definition of harmless and that of everyone else may differ slightly. The time that he switched out the dummy training weapons for real ones hadn’t caused any harm, but that was only because Nat had seen the glint of sharpened steel just before she embedded it in Sam’s side.

You absolutely hated it when they left you behind. You’d only been part of the team for a few months, but you were still itching to go out and help your coworkers - and let’s be honest, friends - take on the big bad guys. Staying behind just made you anxious. It wasn’t productive to just sit around and wait for them to return, turning over more and more gruesome scenarios in your mind for the myriad of ways that they could get injured.

One thing that always worked to keep your mind and body busy was cooking. It was hard to consider gruesome ends to the lives of your friends when you had to keep the exact steps or measurements of a recipe at the forefront of your thoughts. Plus, everybody liked to come home from a long day of work to delicious food waiting for them, and it was a small thrill to have actual Superheroes compliment your cooking. So, while they sped away to fight crime or save the world or something else equally heroic, you toiled in the kitchen, intent on vanquishing their hunger as effectively as they did their enemies.

Well, judging by your cursing, it was a little less effective.

You pulled your fingertip into your mouth, giving the slow cooker a glare for having the gall to burn you. With your free hand, you, carefully, layered in the roast you had purchased, along with plenty of potatoes and carrots around and on top of it.

“You summoned me?” A velvety voice that you knew all too well called from behind you.

Pulling your finger from your mouth, you rolled your eyes and poured the broth that had been waiting beside the slow cooker inside of it. “You are not the only god, Loki.”

“But I’m the only one that matters.” You could practically hear the arrogant smirk that accompanied the words.

“What are you doing?” he asked, silently coming up beside you, peering at your work. He wouldn’t see much, as you’d already put on the lid and that had fogged up considerably, but he could still pretend that he was looking at something.

“Making food, smart one,” you explained bluntly, rolling your eyes.

Suddenly two arms clasped the counter on either side of you, boxing you in. You turned around and crossed your arms over your chest, an impressive feat considering how close he was to you.

“You know better than to insult me, mortal,” he rumbled, voice deep as he glared down at you.

“Oh shove off, Loki. I gotta make cookies.” You uncrossed your arms to push on his chest lightly, knowing that putting any force behind the gesture was useless. Super strength was not one of your abilities, so the only way to get him to back off was of his own volition.

He did his best to look menacing, but the predatory gleam in his eyes was lessened by the uptick of the corners of his lips. “We are all alone on this floor. I could do whatever I wished with you and no one would be any wiser. Your powers are no match for mine.”

“Whatever you wished with me?” You winked, shimmying your shoulders in an overdramatic seductive manner.

With the quirk of your brow, you accepted his unspoken challenge and ducked underneath his arms faster than he could move them to compensate. You darted to the fridge before turning to stick your tongue at him. He was fast, but you were faster. “You were saying?”

He stalked toward you, head tilted forward and emerald eyes watching you from beneath sooty lashes, but you slipped behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry. Were you being threatening? I’ll stand still.”

Loki’s hand reached out to snag your wrist as he whipped around, firm enough to hold you to the spot but not enough to bruise. “You are playing with fire, Y/N.”

You just smiled innocently up at him. In all the time you’ve spent here and interacted with Loki, he had made countless threats against you. It wasn’t a new vocation for him. But he had never acted upon any of them, and you firmly believed that he never would. No matter how much you pushed his buttons. And, oh, his buttons were fun to push.

“Oh, I thought I was playing with a god. My mistake.” Not your best line, but it earned you the tightening of the skin around his eyes nonetheless.

“Do not disrespect me. You will regret it,” he threatened, towering over you, his nose inches away from yours as he tried to use your significant height difference to his advantage.

You didn’t cower, instead choosing to puff out your chest and return his sinister expression. “You can’t be mean, because I cook the food… and I could technically poison you.”

He tilted his head to the side, an arrogant smirk spreading across his pale, elegant features as he released you. “Your Midgardian poisons would do nothing to me.”

You went to the fridge and pulled out butter and eggs, setting them carefully on the nearest counter. You felt his eyes on you as you went to grab the flour from the pantry, and with your back to him, you quickly dipped your hand into the bag to grab a small handful of the fine powder. “Wanna find out?”

He hissed your name in warning and you just knew that he was coming up behind you. So predictable. When his long fingers clasped over your hip and flipped you around to face him, you didn’t resist the movement and used the momentum to take your handful of flour and slap it onto the smooth, soft material of his black button-down shirt.

His face contorted in shock, his jaw dropping and eyes wide. You burst out into laughter. It was too rich to see the pretentious god covered in flour, his typical black wardrobe highlighting the mess too perfectly.

“Oops!”

An impish smile tugged on his lips, and his eyes flicked behind you. Before you could consider the possible reasons for the mischief glinting in his gaze, the entire bag of flour was dumped onto your head, thanks to his magic. You sputtered in his satisfied face. After a stunned moment, the absurdity of the two of you standing there covered in flour bubbled up from within you and you gave in to it, laughing boisterously. Head thrown back, mouth wide open, eyes closed, and absolutely covered in flour you were sure that you looked like some wild thing, but you didn’t care.

“Serves you right, wicked woman,” he teased, circling his arms around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest.

You ruffled your hands through your hair, sending flour flying over the both of you. Flour dusted both of you more thoroughly for your efforts. It clung to his sharp jawline and lightened his dark eyebrows and hair. The effect was almost ghostly when partnered with the lightness of his skin. But the warmth in his eyes still sent your heart skittering as he gazed down at you as your laughter died down. That look, of pure happiness and adoration, was for you alone.

It was difficult to manage when he was so adorably disheveled - he’d have a fit if he knew you thought that about him - but you looked up to him with a false look of frustration on your face. You knew he didn’t buy it, you couldn’t stop the smile that parted your white-powdered lips as you rested your hands on his chest, but it was still fun to pretend. “Now how am I supposed to make cookies?”

He dipped his head to capture your lips in his, tasting of flour and coffee, his soft lips working against yours with practiced motions that you had perfected over the last few weeks. His fingers rubbed against your back pleasantly, making sure to send warm tingles through you and steal your breath away.

Having enthusiastically silenced you, he pulled away and smiled at your dazed expression as his nose nudged yours. “Forget about the cookies, pet.”

His insistence reminded you of your own mission, and you actually pouted. Somehow still able to focus on your task despite the handsome man gazing down at you, you thumped your hands against his chest lightly. Small white puffs of flour scattered into the air with each light hit. “But I promised Sam I’d make him my famous chocolate chip cookies. They’re irresistible.”

His hands tugged on your hips until they met his, and he brushed his lips along the soft skin of your neck. “I can think of another thing that’s irresistible.”

“You’re incorrigible,” you murmured, pushing against his chest lightly. “But I really need to get these made, so if you could unhand me…”

He relented with a heavy sigh, dropping his head to your shoulder. “Love.”

“Order more flour for delivery, and then we’ll talk,” you haggled, running your floured hands through his black hair, making an absolute mess of it.

A pleased hum vibrated out from his chest, and he lifted his head to press a kiss to your forehead, pulling away with a frown from the bitter taste of the raw flour on your skin. “You bargain with me?”

“Yup,” you replied, your lips popping the last syllable loudly between the two of you. You slipped out of his hold to gather the rest of the ingredients that you could find, leaving a cloud of flour in your wake.

When you finally stopped moving about, stationed in front of the stand mixer with the ingredients laid out before you, you turned your head to watch Loki over your shoulder with a quirked brow and a small smile on your lips.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., order more flour for the accursed cookies,” he commanded, staring at you as if you were a glass of water and he was stranded in the desert.

Your laughter echoed throughout the empty room as he lifted you over his shoulder and carried you away from the disaster of a kitchen.

“I believe that a shower is in order. Wouldn’t want to have errant flour falling into the recipe and ruin the whole batch of irresistible cookies.”

#mimis4kchallenge #loki x reader #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki oneshot

577 notes · View notes

newstfionline · 3 years

Text

Wednesday, December 16, 2020

Virginia woman does 53 acts of kindness for 53rd birthday (AP) The pandemic didn’t allow Debra Ferrell to gather with her whole family for her birthday. So instead, she celebrated the day by giving back—with 53 gifts from her heart. Ferrell went on social media and asked people for suggestions on acts of kindness that she could perform for others during her birth month, one for every year that she’s been alive. “It’s one of the hardest times in my history, so I figured why not make other people smile,” said Ferrell. The requests for her Oct. 4 birthday arrived from across the U.S.: Parents who hoped for words of encouragement for their kids on their first year of virtual school. A woman who wished for a gift basket for her fiancé, a doctor at a hospital’s COVID-19 unit. A friend of a family in Minnesota that lost their 4-year-old to cancer, who wanted them to feel that they were not alone. “I know that might sound cheesy, but it’s just one of my favorite things to do,” said Ferrell, who works as a resident service coordinator at a retirement community. “I just feel that if we live our life trying to make other people smile, I’m the one who gets the most out of it.”

Some people actually had a pretty good year (NYT) Though a wide array of businesses are suffering this year, many that cater to professionals and the elite are doing better than ever. It’s now well-documented that the coronavirus pandemic has both exposed and exacerbated American inequality. While the wealthy and the highly educated haven’t entirely escaped the soul-crushing effects of the virus—quarantine-induced cabin fever, sharing at-home work spaces with Zoom schoolrooms and a number of other shared losses and stresses—they have also been, on the whole, getting richer. The Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City found that jobs that can be performed remotely made up a relatively small share of pandemic-related job losses, and according to The Wall Street Journal “workers with bachelor’s degrees or higher had nearly fully recovered jobs lost in early spring” by September. Meanwhile, the vast majority of workers are without college degrees. And many of those who have been unable to work from home have been struggling in shocking numbers. Women and especially mothers employed in the service sector were more likely to experience pandemic-related job loss. Black and Latino adults, who, because of health inequities, are more likely to contract and die from Covid-19 than their white counterparts, have also faced disproportionate financial struggles during this recession. A small but substantial sliver of America, however, is doing better than ever, or at least just fine: enjoying the freedoms that remote work paired with disposable income can bring, using this pause in the typical 24/7 busyness of professional-class social life to take a breath and to reassess and rejigger their lives.

Barr flies (Foreign Policy) U.S. Attorney General William Barr is out of the job, following an announcement by U.S. President Donald Trump on Monday evening. Trump tweeted a letter written by Barr outlining his respect for the president, ending with the confirmation that he would resign on Dec. 23. Barr had reportedly fallen out with Trump over the attorney general’s statement that no significant voter fraud could be found in the Nov. 3 presidential election. Deputy Attorney General Jeff Rosen will now take on Barr’s former post in an acting capacity.

Unwelcome in other countries, Americans are fleeing lockdowns and flocking to Mexico (Los Angeles Times) The pandemic was raging, but on the beaches of Cabo San Lucas it felt like spring break. Tipsy young Americans in bikinis and swim trunks vied for buckets of beer in a push-up competition at a crowded bar. Vendors in wide-brimmed hats plodded through the sand, offering rugs, massages and—under their breath—cocaine. Down near the water, 24-year-old Kierston Jackson sat entwined with her boyfriend, their matching blue surgical masks a concession to the coronavirus. “It’s a good change of pace,” said Jackson, a Houston resident, as she gazed at the gently lapping waves. “I’d definitely prefer to be here with a mask on than in my home without one.” Unwelcome in many countries as the virus surges worldwide, U.S. tourists are fleeing lockdowns at home and flocking to Mexico. Nearly half a million Americans flew to Mexico in October—the most recent month for which data is available—mainly to beaches on the Pacific and Caribbean coasts. The influx of Americans is a ray of hope for the country’s battered tourism sector, which has hemorrhaged more than $11 billion this year.

Natural disasters cost insurance industry $76 billion in 2020—Swiss Re (Reuters) Natural disasters like wildfires which devastated parts of the United States and a record number of hurricanes in the Atlantic caused $76 billion in insured losses during 2020, Swiss Re said on Tuesday. The 40% increase from $54 billion in 2019 dwarfed the $7 billion in man-made losses during 2020, the reinsurance company said in its sigma estimate for the year. The total insurance industry losses of $83 billion made 2020 the fifth costliest year since 1970, the company said. “Losses were driven by a record number of severe convective storms—thunderstorms with tornadoes, floods and hail—and wildfires in the U.S.,” Swiss Re said.

ICC prosecutor sees ‘reasonable basis’ to believe Venezuela committed crimes against humanity (Reuters) The International Criminal Court’s chief prosecutor believes there is “reasonable basis” to believe Venezuela has committed crimes against humanity, according to a report published by the prosecutor’s office on Monday. United Nations investigators in September determined that Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro’s government has committed systematic human rights violations, including killings and torture, amounting to crimes against humanity. The Hague-based tribunal has been examining Venezuela’s case since 2018 and expects to determine in 2021 whether to open a full investigation. Though Maduro’s adversaries have celebrated the ICC’s probe of Venezuela, few believe the process is likely to lead to a short-term change in the struggling nation. ICC criminal proceedings stretch for years, and it has in the past struggled to carry out arrest warrants when it obtains them.

Netherlands to go into tough, five-week lockdown over Christmas (Reuters) The Netherlands will go into a tough second lockdown, with the closure of all schools and shops for at least five weeks, in a government-led push to fight the coronavirus, Prime Minister Mark Rutte said on Monday. “The Netherlands is closing down,” he said to the sound of protesters banging pots and pans outside his office in The Hague. “We realise the gravity of our decisions, right before Christmas.” The measures, detailed in a rare live television address, include limiting gatherings to no more than two people, also at home. An exception will be made for three days around Christmas, when three adult visitors will be permitted, he said. People were further advised to stay at home, not to travel to work and to avoid contact with other people as much as possible. From Tuesday, all public places—including daycare centres, gyms, museums, zoos, cinemas, hairdressers and beauty salons—will close until Jan. 19. Schools will close until Jan. 18. Supermarkets, banks and pharmacies will be allowed to stay open.

Chernobyl tourism (Foreign Policy) In a year has shown that what you do after disaster has struck is often more important than the disaster itself, it’s perhaps fitting that Chernobyl—the site of the world’s worst nuclear incident—is in a push to be recognized as a UNESCO world heritage site. The Ukrainian government is pursuing an initiative to have the site added to the heritage list in a bid to boost tourism to the area, 20 years after the power plant finally ceased operating, and four years since a protective dome over the doomed fourth reactor was completed. 124,000 tourists—a record number—visited Chernobyl in 2019 amid renewed interest following a popular television drama of the same name. Ukrainian Culture Minister Oleksandr Tkachenko now hopes to boost annual tourist numbers to one million.

Russia’s Putin recognizes Biden’s win (Washington Post) More than a month later than most world leaders, Russia’s President Vladimir Putin on Tuesday congratulated President-elect Joe Biden for his victory in the election, a delayed recognition that could set the tone for icy relations. “In his message Vladimir Putin wished the president-elect every success and expressed confidence that Russia and the United States, which bear special responsibility for global security and stability, can, despite their differences, effectively contribute to solving many problems and meeting challenges that the world is facing today,” the Kremlin said in a statement. Putin was one of the last heads of state to acknowledge Biden’s win; Mexico’s Andrés Manuel López Obrador, Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro and North Korea’s Kim Jung Un are other holdouts. The congratulations come after Biden’s victory became more formal on Monday, when 306 electors officially voted for him.

Silent nights (Worldcrunch) Catholic church officials in Manila, the capital city of the Philippines, have announced Christmas carol activities will be banned, The Philippine News Agency reports. Churches were asked not to organize carolings in order to “protect the public and the choir members” as according to experts, the virus could easily spread through singing, officials say. Christmas carols are an important part of the holiday traditions in the Philippines, a predominantly Catholic country that celebrates the world’s longest Christmas season, from Sept. 1 to New Year’s Eve.

Package-tour diplomacy: Thousands of Israeli tourists flock to Dubai after peace deal (Washington Post) Ashish Negi prides himself on spotting the nationality of tourists as soon as they walk into his jewelry store—so he can be jokey with Americans, chatty with Brits and ready to bargain with Russians—but he was baffled by the man in the tall black hat and the curly sideburns who came in last week. “This was something I had not seen in Dubai,” Negi said of the first ultra-Orthodox Jewish visitor to reach his corner of the city’s traditional gold market, part of a wave of Israeli tourists who have descended on the United Arab Emirates in recent days. In the two weeks since commercial flights began between Tel Aviv and the Emirati cities of Dubai and Abu Dhabi, Israelis have caused a remarkable tourism boomlet in the Gulf nation. Suddenly, Hebrew can be heard throughout the markets, malls and beaches of a destination that was strictly off-limits until the two countries achieved a diplomatic breakthrough in August and established normal relations. More than 50,000 Israelis have brushed aside covid-19 concerns, a terrorism warning and decades of tension to make the three-hour flight across the Arab Peninsula. Israeli tourism officials expect more than 70,000 to arrive during the eight days of Hanukkah, which began last week, in an unprecedented exchange between the Jewish state and one of its historically standoffish Muslim neighbors.

Ten years on, anger grows in Tunisian town where ‘Arab Spring’ began (Reuters) Ten years ago, a fruit seller set himself ablaze in the central Tunisian town of Sidi Bouzid after an altercation with a policewoman about where he had put his cart. Word of Mohammed Bouazizi’s fatal act of defiance quickly spread, sparking nationwide protests that eventually toppled Tunisia’s long-serving leader and helped inspire similar uprisings across the region—the so-called “Arab Spring”. Huge demonstrations broke out in Egypt and Bahrain, governments fell and civil war engulfed Libya, Syria and Yemen. Tunisians are now free to choose their leaders and can publicly criticise the state. Yet for all the chaos they have been through, many people look back on the events of 2010 and regret that their dreams remain unfulfilled. “Something went wrong in the revolution,” said Attia Athmouni, a retired philosophy teacher who helped lead the uprising after Bouazizi’s death by standing on the fruit seller’s abandoned cart to address the crowd the night he died. Protests have flared again in recent weeks across Tunisia’s poorer southern towns against joblessness, poor state services, inequality and shortages.

#headlines #news

1 note · View note

xxx-cat-xxx · 5 years

Text

Stairway to Heaven (almost)

Summary: When the Hulk breaks the elevators in Stark Tower, Peter and Tony have to climb to the top in order to repair them. 93 floors shouldn’t be an issue, Tony tells himself, and, in typical Stark-fashion, completely ignores his heart condition. Turns out that was a bad idea.

Tags: Heart issues, Fainting, Whump and humour and a tiny little bit of angst, Irondad, Pepper/Tony, Bruce&Tony

A/N: For @greeniebean2014, thank you for the prompt and for medical consultancy services ;) Major thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading.

________________________

“What exactly is the Hulk’s problem with elevators?” Peter inquires when they cross the 19th floor of Stark Tower and start climbing another flight.

The boy is jumpy and impatient, but his breaths are even and, as far as Tony can see in the dim emergency light, there’s not even a hint of exhaustion on his face,. The engineer, on the other hand, is already starting to pant, his cheeks feeling flushed as he tries his best to keep pace with the kid.

“He’s just not a fan,” Tony huffs. “No idea why.”

That’s not true, strictly speaking, because Tony knows very well that it all started with a certain event in 2012, but thinking about that would mean thinking about what happened to New York on this particular day, and that - no, not now.

Tony’s always bragged that out of all the things he’s built, Stark tower is one of the coolest. Located in downtown Manhattan, with a fully wired artificial intelligence that’s adaptive to its inhabitants’ respective needs, containing a vertical garden, thirteen gyms, seven swimming pools, and labs that would make the AAAS go green with envy, it is certainly something to be proud of. Not to mention that it is the first of New York’s skyscrapers that’s exclusively running on green energy.

The tower is also very, very high. Not, as some journalists suggested gleefully, because it has to compensate for anything, but because Tony wouldn’t build a skyscraper with his name on it that wasn’t visible from the ocean. And why go for 50 floors when you can have 93? He wanted to see where to land when he comes back from business trips with his private jet, or, more recently, feel more than a bit smug when returning from a mission in his Iron Man suit and spotting the Avengers symbol shining high above New York.

Today is the first day he curses himself for each and every one of those 93 floors.

“At least he could have left the power supply alone,” Peter goes on. “I mean, Hulk is pretty dumb - don’t tell Dr. Banner I said that - but somehow he managed to destroy the entire system.”

“Yup,” Tony replies short-windedly.

Peter gives him a side glance. “Do you need a break?”

“Do I look like a pensioner to you?” Tony retorts in mock-offence. “I once crossed half of Tennessee in a snowstorm while dragging my own armour behind me. This little workout is nothing compared to that.”

“Okay, okay, I was just asking,” Peter appeases. “By the way, did I tell you about the new web-fluid formula that Ned came up with?”

The kid starts to ramble while they make their way towards Tony’s workshop on the 79th floor, where, in a moment of maybe not-so-genius, he has installed the controls they will need in order to get the arc reactor in the basement back online. The tower is protected against pretty much every imaginable outside threat (and even against most of the inside ones) but Bruce, of course, has access to almost every part of the building and Tony never thought that Hulk would be clever enough to disable all the security measures protecting the main power supply.

By the time they reach the 26th floor, Tony has started to pant for real, unable to conceal his breathlessness any further. When they cross 32, his chest starts to hurt with every step, and he thinks that maybe a break wouldn’t be that bad after all. But the kid next to him is still taking the steps two at a time, not even a bead of sweat on his brow. So Tony grits his teeth and tells himself that this means he can skip his exercise routine for the next couple of days.

At 35, Tony’s head is swimming and his fingers begin to go numb. There’s an irritating tingling sensation in his left arm and that’s when he knows that things are Not Great™. He makes it another two floors before the pain in his chest spikes and his vision blacks out completely for a moment before turning into a blur of colours. Tony’s foot catches on the next step. He stumbles and would have fallen if it hadn’t been for Peter’s quick reflexes.

“Whoa, Mr. Stark, are you okay?” the kid asks in panic while he lowers Tony down onto the floor.

Tony grunts and tries to get back up, just to realise that he can’t really differentiate up and down anymore. His own heartbeat is pounding loudly in his ears, pulsating in time with the stabbing pain in his chest and the pattern of black and grey in front of his eyes.

“Mr. Stark, what’s going on?” Peter’s voice is openly worried, his hand still holding tightly onto Tony’s arm.

“‘m okay,” Tony manages. “Jus’ give me a sec. Gotta take a breather.” He feels himself list to the side and is glad when his shoulder finds a wall he can lean against. Tony lowers his head onto his knees, fully aware of how stupid he must be looking, and waits for the symptoms to subside.

They don’t. Instead, his vision goes from fuzzy to spinning, the pain from bad to worse, and he is suddenly very nauseous. Tony swallows hard, determined to preserve his last bit of dignity and not throw up in front of the kid.

“Mr. Stark?” The kid addresses the ceiling when Tony doesn’t reply. “FRIDAY, what’s going on with him?” The AI doesn’t answer, of course, because the power is still out, which Tony could have told him if he had any intention of opening his mouth. He feels bile rise in his throat and gulps.

“Do you feel sick? Are you gonna puke?”

Tony manages a shrug. “Dunno,” he grunts out through gritted teeth.

He feels more likely to faint on the spot, but he isn’t going to tell this to the kid. Peter is saying something else and Tony thinks he can make out Pepper’s name, but the kid suddenly seems very far away. Everything has gone sort of slow and muffled. There’s another stab of agony in Tony’s chest, and he can’t suppress a groan. He’s used to pain, been in a lot of it, but this is definitely somewhere in the upper end of his tolerance scale.

Tony closes his eyes and tries not to stop breathing.

“Tony? Can you hear me?” He opens his eyes again and makes out a very blurry Pepper, her red hair shimmering like a halo behind her face.

“‘m okay,” he gasps, “’s just s-stupid heart -” He reaches for the staircase railing, determined to get back to his feet and pull himself together and -

That was a mistake. The pain in his chest spikes. Tony can feel his body fold into itself - can hear Peter and Pepper yelp in unison.

Then he passes out.

He wakes up to the steady beeping of a heart monitor and an entirely different kind of pain in his chest. Tony blinks himself awake and waits for his vision to clear while the faces of Pepper, Bruce, and Peter slowly swim into focus.

They are in the medbay. Bruce is wearing a mismatch of clothes and a worried look on his face, Peter has streaks of tears on his cheeks, and Pepper looks to be somewhere in between relieved and very, very angry.

“Hey, I’m back online,” Tony announces to no one in particular, then has to interrupt himself to cough against the dryness in his throat.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce hands him a glass of water, luckily with a straw in it because Tony doesn’t feel quite up to sitting just yet.

“Good, good. Guess I’m okay now,” he lies. “Why the long faces? You all look like Happy when he found out Downton Abbey wasn't getting another season.”

“That’s not funny,” Peter replies with a seriousness unusual for him.

“It is, actually,” Tony retorts. “For weeks I’ve been trying to get Pepper to take an evening off and have dinner with us, and turns out all it took to get you three into one room is - what is it that’s wrong with me? Feels like the Hulk danced on my chest.”

Bruce turns pale at the words and swallows hard before speaking. “You were in ventricular tachycardia, which means that your heart was beating in such a way that it wasn’t getting your blood to the rest of the body. We had to shock you back into sinus rhythm. Pepper performed CPR before we got you to the medbay. She, uhm, might have broken one or two of your ribs.”

Tony mimics a shocked expression. “Wow, Pep, I get that you’re pissed at me, but no need to get violent…” he trails off upon seeing Pepper’s stony face.

Bruce gives him a serious look. “Sorry to tell you, Tony, but it looks like you’re gonna need to get a pacemaker. As soon as possible, I think.”

Tony replies nothing.

“Tony?” he repeats.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony finally says without looking up.

“Wait, you know?!” Pepper’s voice is so shrill that he winces.

“I had an episode a couple of weeks ago and contacted a specialist,” Tony admits, weakly raising his hand to stop her from interrupting. “I’ve got a check-up appointment scheduled on Friday, and if everything goes well, I’d get the pacemaker before the end of the month. Nobody would’ve even realised. Just, maybe, shouldn’t have climbed forty stairs. Stupid elevator.”

There’s a break. Peter looks shell-shocked. Bruce is chewing his lower lip. Pepper Potts is actually speechless for once.

“I am so sorry,” Bruce starts, his cheeks going red. “I didn’t think I’d ever have an incident in the tower, I am really -”

“Bruce, stop,” Tony orders with as much strength as he can muster. “We talked about this. It’s not your fault that the Hulk has a personal grudge against elevators.”

“But if you knew that something’s wrong with your heart, then why did you even think of climbing 80 floors?” Peter speaks up. “I could have gone upstairs on my own!”

“See, advanced planning when it comes to my own health isn’t really...what I do,” Tony admits with a weak grin. “Sorry for scaring you, though. You shouldn’t have been there.”

“Oh, it’s actually a good thing that he was there,” Pepper replies with a sardonic smile on her face that makes Tony suspect something evil. “I couldn’t have carried you all the way to medbay.”

“You did what?” Tony glares at Peter. “Please tell me she’s joking.”

“Uhm…” The kid’s face takes on an even darker shade of red. “There wasn’t really anything else we could’ve done, I mean, with the electricity out and all that…”

“Oh god,” Tony buries his head in the pillow, “I think I’ll just pass out again. For the rest of the month, maybe. And then I’ll fire you, kid. After making you sign a confidentiality agreement.”

The kid looks actually intimidated for a second until Pepper gives Tony a stern look and says, “A thank you would be more appropriate here.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, kid.” Tony lifts his head up again to look at Peter. “I mean it. FRIDAY, for the record, interns with super strength are very useful. Should be added as a criterion for the application form on the SI website.”

Peter tries to hide a chuckle. “I’m glad I was there, Mr. Stark. But really, you should take better care of yourself.”

Tony, mature as ever, sticks out his tongue at him.

There is a moment of silence in which Pepper gives a confused Bruce a very pointed look, until he suddenly says, “Oh, Peter, what about a hot chocolate? You look like you could use one. And then you can give me a hand fixing the power supply…”

Peter is a bit quicker on the uptake. “Okay, Dr. Banner.” He almost trips over his feet while walking backwards out of the door. “See you later, Mr. Stark. And don’t try to get up yet.”

Bruce pushes himself to his feet with visible exhaustion and gives them a tired wave before disappearing out of the room.

“See,” Tony spills the moment the door has closed behind the two of them, “I would have told you, I swear. I’ve been seeing this specialist about developing a custom pacemaker, but we’re not yet sure whether it is gonna be effective with all the scar tissue in my chest and I didn’t want to get your hopes up before I was 100 percent sure it would work.”

He makes his eyes as big as possible before looking up at Pepper. “Please don’t be mad?”

With a sigh, Pepper shifts her chair a little closer to the hospital bed. “I am mad,” she emphasises. “But I’m also glad that you didn’t die while climbing the stairs. And proud that you’re working on getting it fixed, though I’m not sure yet which of them is stronger.”

“Well, that’s…” Tony struggles to sit up a little against his lumpy hospital pillows and grunts when the pain in his ribs flares up, “that’s something I can work with.”

“How are you actually feeling?” Pepper asks. “And no lies this time.”

“It hurts,” Tony admits. “My chest. And, well, there’s the aftershock of almost dying.” The corners of his mouth twist into a smile. “But what else is new?”

Pepper’s expressions softens. She reaches for his hand on the blanket and takes it in both of hers, giving it a squeeze. Then she reaches up to his chest and lets her flat palm rest just above his traitorous heart.

Pepper doesn’t often talk about feelings, and if she does, she phrases them in a rational manner - so unlike Tony, who swings back and forth between stinging sarcasm and cheesy declarations of love. But he knows what she’s saying now, through the concern in her eyes, through the fingertips that outline the scars between the electrodes fixed to his bare chest.

I need you. I was so scared of losing you. Don’t be gone again.

Tony lays his hand on top of hers. “Thanks for saving me, Miss Potts,” he whispers.

She smiles in response. “That’s my day job, Mr. Stark.”

The lights suddenly flicker back on, replacing the green emergency glow with a cold white light. Tony blinks against the sudden brightness, feeling a headache throb against the back of his skull. He’s exhausted as if he’s been on a three-day mission. Although his original plan was to sneak out of the hospital bed and repair the elevator as soon as Pepper goes back to work, he now wonders whether a bit of rest might not be a bad idea. Not while he is alone, though.

“You gotta get back to SI?” he asks casually, wondering somewhere in the back of his mind whether there will be a day when he’ll simply be able to utter the word stay.

“Oh, seeing that the electricity went out, I postponed my meeting. I guess it’s okay to be absent a little longer and just answer a few emails from here,” she replies just as casually, nodding at the StarkPad poking out of her handbag.

The thing about Pepper is, sometimes she just gets him.

“Well then, be my guest,” he says with a smirk. “Make sure that Bruce and Peter get some rest after repairing my tower - poor guys have had a long day. And could you ask someone to check up on Dum-E and U…?”

“Sleep.” She silences him with a light kiss on the lips.

He takes her face in his hands with somewhat uncoordinated movements and kisses her back, hard, until he has to stop to take a breath. He feels very complete, slightly winded, and also a bit woozy. Pepper catches on to that and raises an eyebrow. “No sexual activity until you get your pacemaker, boss,” she teases.

A small smile spreads across Tony’s lips just as he can feel his eyelids start to grow heavy. "We'll see about that."

__________________________

@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Broken Ribs’ square.

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33 @yepokokfine

#badthingshappenbingo #broken ribs #heart issues #fainting #cardiac dysrhythmia #hurt tony stark #sick tony #irondad #spiderson #pepperony #pepper/tony #science bros #bruce banner #pepper potts #tony stark #peter parker #mcu #marvel fanfic

129 notes · View notes

morlock-holmes · 5 years

Text

This anonymous article from the Washingtonian, (Which is apparently... a magazine? Of some sort?) “What Happened After My 13-Year-Old Son Joined the Alt-Right “ was being reblogged on my dash a few times and looking at some of the notes a lot of people were calling it propaganda without saying which side they thought it was propaganda for.

I think a LOT of people were so swayed by the “One Concerned Mom Speaks Out!” tone of the thing that they kind of missed the actual narrative.

I mean... If anything it’s kind of propaganda in favor of the alt-right, isn’t it?

Here’s how the author of the piece sums up the inciting incident in the story:

One morning during first period, a male friend of Sam’s [The author’s son] mentioned a meme whose suggestive name was an inside joke between the two of them. Sam laughed. A girl at the table overheard their private conversation, misconstrued it as a sexual reference, and reported it as sexual harassment. Sam’s guidance counselor pulled him out of his next class and accused him of “breaking the law.” Before long, he was in the office of a male administrator who informed him that the exchange was “illegal,” hinted that the police were coming, and delivered him into the custody of the school’s resource officer. At the administrator’s instruction, that man ushered Sam into an empty room, handed him a blank sheet of paper, and instructed him to write a “statement of guilt.”

No one called me as this unfolded, even though Sam cried for about six hours straight as staff members parked him in vacant offices to keep him away from other students. When he stepped off the bus that afternoon and I asked why his eyes were so swollen, he informed me that he would probably be suspended, but possibly also expelled and arrested.

Later there’s more, but basically the school authorities double down, Sam’s parents decided that if the authorities were that cruel and insane Sam needed to be in another school, and so they transferred him. Sam then starts getting into 4chan and reddit alt-right communities, who explain that what happened to him happened because of feminism gone crazy.

So, as a slight aside I have always thought since I was in high school myself that this kind of zero-tolerance, authoritarian crap is particularly cruel to inflict on growing children. A boy Sam’s age is trying to differentiate himself, see himself as an individual, and the authorities come in and go, “It doesn’t matter what you think, it doesn’t matter why you did what you did, we will never care about that, we see you as a type and there is nothing you can do to convince us otherwise.”

This message would be incredibly dispiriting to anybody, but particularly to children.

Contrast, meanwhile, his experience on Reddit:

Soon Sam stopped trying to convince me to join his brave new world. He was so active on his favorite subreddit that the other group leaders, unaware that he was 13, appointed him a moderator. Among his new online besties, this was a huge honor and a boost to his cratered self-esteem. He loved Reddit and its unceasing conversations about the nuances of memes—he seemed in love with the whole enterprise, as if it were an adolescent crush.

...

Eventually, Sam had to give up moderating for the most practical of reasons: Eighth grade ended and he was packing for sleep-away camp. He would be offline for a month and would need other mods to cover for him. To ask for help, he had to out himself as a kid.

Sam and I both laughed about the absurdity of the situation, though he admitted he was nervous he’d be exiled from moderating. I asked him to read me the responses to his message. They were all of the “Dude, you’ve got to be kidding me” variety—one of their most sophisticated and reliable colleagues was a middle-schooler heading off to Jewish summer camp!

Later, it was my turn to be surprised: They all contributed to a going-away gift for Sam and mailed an emoji-themed fidget-spinner to his bunk address.

Faced with new information that Sam has broken the rules, his school imediately brands him a predator, threatens to arrest and expel him, and responds with undisguised hate.

Faced with new information about who Sam is, his alt-right buddies are shocked, but then reiterate that they still care about him and value the contributions he has made to their community, and get together to express that to Sam.

I’d like to make a little list of what Sam gets from the alt-right in the narrative:

A group of people who have shown that they will support and value him, even if they find out new things about him.

People who listen and care about what he has to say

An explanation of what, exactly, happened to him and why.

Ideas about how he can protect himself and others from having that happen again in the future.

Allies and support for enacting those ideas.

His parents, by his Mother’s own admission in the article, were only able to provide fumbling efforts to provide protection from that particular school’s administration. His parents and their politics were totally ready to say that taking all that stuff about cucks seriously was pretty weird and dumb, his mother is totally ready to counter any statistics his alt-right buddies might have, but is completely and utterly unequipped to provide any of the other stuff I listed up there. There’s a moment where Sam explains to her what he and his friends think happened:

Sam pledged fealty to the idea of men’s rights because, as he said, his former administrator had privileged girls’ words and experiences over boys’, and that’s how all of his troubles had started in the first place. I’d never in my life backed the “masculinist” cause or imagined that men needed protecting—yet I couldn’t help but agree with Sam’s analysis.

The mother’s politics didn’t actually equip her with an alternate explanation of what happened; rather, she has to concede that his explanation makes sense, and having conceded that has no idea what to do with herself.

In fact, as the article ends she is only vaguely starting to come to grips with the fact that Sam needed the kinds of support I listed above:

“All I wanted was for people to take me seriously,” [Sam] repeated matter-of-factly. “They treated me like a rational human being, and they never laughed at me. I saw the way you and Dad looked at each other and tried not to smile when I said something. I could hear you both in your room at night, laughing at me.”

I struggled for a moment because I wanted to tell him that wasn’t true. But I couldn’t deny his accusation. Behind closed doors, when my husband and I thought our children were asleep, we had often vented to each other about Sam’s off-the-wall proclamations and the bizarre situation we found ourselves in.

So I told Sam simply that I was sorry for making him feel bad.

I still think about his words a lot, especially when alt-right figures headline the news. But mostly, I wonder how I could have tried so hard to parent Sam through this crisis and yet tripped up on something as basic as not making my own kid feel small.

By the end of the article Sam is disenchanted with the Alt-right through, well, it’s not totally clear. The author of the article, by the end, seems to understand that Sam needed at least some of the things I outlined up there, but it’s not clear to me if she views the fact that her own politics were completely unable to provide them as an actual problem.

In fact, it’s not clear to me what she believes her politics are actually for. I know, I know, it’s not a philosophical article, but the question of “How much power do public school administrators have over their charges and what can parents do to counter them” is a nakedly, inarguably political question; after all, it’s about how a state-run institution should be run. And rather then turning to her own left-wing beliefs to contextualize and fight this decision, her solution is that her family has enough money to put Sam in another school.

Now, I’m not criticizing this decision, I think it was probably difficult, even brave. But it’s noticeable that her left-wing, non-culty politics don’t seem to have much to offer the next Sam, a Sam whose parents might not have private school tuition sitting around in their bank accounts.

In fact, she seems to regard the fact that Sam’s alt-right buddies were able to offer up compelling narratives and give him hope of implementing a solution and reasserting his self-worth as, well, cheating. Isn’t that cult-like behavior? Politics aren’t actually supposed to help the Sams of the world contextualize the things that happen in their lives, and when they do, it’s awfully sinister.

This seems to be part of something that has heavily infected the American left. It’s a kind of unspoken philosophy that says, “Politics is for solving major problems, the rest should be handled elsewhere.”

Even when a question overtly connected to Mom’s politics crops up in their life, her politics have literally nothing practical to offer any of them. Her left-wing politics are correct it doesn’t matter if they’re helpful.

This is what I keep trying to get at when I say people are missing the point with Jordan Peterson. Yeah, a lot of what he says sounds factually rickety to me as well, but, well, when I spend every day wondering why I can’t seem to get my life together, simultaneously dreading it AND feeling like there’s no point in trying to change, how does having a more correct view of lobster biology help me out with that?

I mean, I’m not saying it can’t, I’m saying people won’t even connect the two. Look at the reviews of 12 rules and people will usually grudgingly admit that his self-help advice might be useful, but really, it will tend to rile up exactly the wrong kind of person, and anyway, what does any of this have to do with politics?

This is what I keep trying to get at about effective altruism, as well. It’s not that it’s wrong, it’s that by its very nature it will never be about providing me, personally, with any help, because it’s focused on stopping rogue AIs and mailing out malaria nets, fine causes but notice that, while Rationalists see “How can I stop a super-intelligent AI from destroying us” as a solvable problem “How do I make the kind of friends who will spontaneously check on me if I sound like I’m sick?” is completely insolvable.

To the extent that my existing faculties haven’t already made it happen, unfortunately there are no clarifying frameworks or advice better than, “Well, it’s hard.”

Rationalists are better about this than generic leftists but I also feel like that’s a low bar. Answers to the question “What can I do to concretely improve my life, and, for that matter, why should I even bother, what’s the point?” are becoming ever more disconnected from left-wing thought, and most of the concrete attempts to answer these questions are coming from the right.

I actually don’t think this is good, incidentally.

#politics #rationalism

137 notes · View notes

sswwimagine · 5 years

Text

Green Eyed Monster || Ron Weasley

Original Post: on ssimagines

Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

Word Count: 2169

Summary: You and Ron have have been dating since the beginning of fifth year, but now that your sixth year has started and you’re not in all the same classes, you’ve been hanging out with Neville more and more without even realising it. Ron becomes a bit standoffish.

Warnings: major fluff as requested, stubbornness, jealousy, insecurities

Request: Can you Write a Ron imagine where he’s very insecure and being clingy because he’s jealous(of a character you’re choice) and he’s being stubborn about saying the truth and just kill meh with fluff please:) sorry it’s longgg

Note: I decided to make the person Ron is jealous of Neville because Neville is such a sweetheart and the two obvious people Harry and Draco wouldn’t be as adorable, but just make Ron seem petty which he’s sometimes portrayed and I really hate that. So I picked Neville. Also Ron isn’t really all that clingy in this. I hope you like it.

You are a Gryffindor because it isn’t otherwise stated.

This is obviously already been posted, but since I started my smaller blogs, I wanted all my work for each fandom in one place. Instead of just reblogging everything I figured that I would repost it.

Request/Taglist

Masterlist

Your whole Hogwarts career you’ve been part of what had been dubbed quite lamely the golden quartet. In your first year, you instantly bonded with Hermione. The two of you were attached at the hip for the most part. When she heard Ron and Harry insult her, she ran away from you. The troll incident caused you to go to the two blubbering idiots for help. The rest of the story was history.

Last year, under the reign of Dolores Umbridge, you realized that you really liked Ron as more than a friend. Through great timing and the help of a meddling Hermione, you found out that he liked you too. Shortly after, You and Ron became a thing.

Now that you were a sixth year though, everything had changed. You weren’t in a lot of the same classes as you red headed boyfriend. You honestly didn’t mind it because you really enjoyed your classes and it wasn’t like you were alone. You shared nearly your whole schedule with Neville Longbottom.

You had been friends with Neville off and on for the years because of an unspoken rivalry between you to over herbology. The two of you were always trying to subtly one up each other. You honestly really enjoyed the competition because it helped both you improved your skills.

This year was the first year though that you Neville called a truce and worked together in your classes.. The two of you studied together every chance you got as this year was by far harder than any before. It was nice and the two of you fell into a routine about it.

You sat in the great hall for lunch in between Ron and Neville. Ron was talking with Harry and Ginny about their quidditch practice while you and Neville were answering Luna’s questions about the planets you were working on in this unit of herbology. Time ticked down and both Luna and Ginny dismissed themselves to get to their classes. Harry started talking to Hermione who had previously had her nose stuffed in a book. You and Neville were still excitedly talking about this upcoming plant that you were going to be learning about. Ron was left to eat.

You felt Ron’s hand come to rest right above your knee. It was barely noticeable, but you knew that it was there. As you laughed at a terrible pun made by Neville you felt the pressure on your leg increase.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Ron eating like nothing was up. You chose to ignore his hand and continue the conversation. The more you talked to Neville the higher Ron’s hand moved up your leg. You felt your face flush It got to a point that made you feel uncomfortable and abruptly stood up. The sound of the bench moving back slightly caused people in close proximity to you look up startled. Ron’s hand had dropped to his side. He looked at you with wide eyes.

“Neville, we should get going; It’s a long walk to the classroom,” you said as you scrambled to pick up all your stuff.

You had pulled several books out of your bag during your discussion and now you were doing your best to put them away quickly. Both Harry and Hermione watched you in confusion as you were normally extremely organized. Your bag always was perfectly in order and you never lost track of time. You planned for everything. They had never before see you so frazzled before.

Neville was also shocked at your behavior. He knew that if they left now they would be nearly ten minutes early. He wasn’t against being early, but he also wasn’t done with his lunch. He expected to have more time. Neville showed the cheese sandwich he was holding into his mouth and stood up.

You turned and made your way out of the great hall without another word. Neville placed his stuff in his bag and picked up another sandwich before running after you.

Aside from one class you had with Hermione, you didn’t see any of your other friends until dinner that night. Without saying a word to anyone you slipped in the seat across from Ron and next to Hermione. It was usual for the two of you to sit so far apart, but you were concerned that you would have a repeated of what happened at lunch.

For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why Ron had done that. It just wasn’t like him to be so touchy in public. Early on in your relationship you had discussed your comfort zones and touching, aside from simple hand holding, in front of your friends was a huge no. that was really out of bounds to you. Neville looked confused as he saw the out of place seating arrangement. Two years ago, it would have been normal, but you had sat next Ron all fifth year. It just looked out of place. Without saying anything. Neville dropped into the seat on the other side of you.

Halfway through dinner, you were talking with Hermione about the homework you had for your class. It wasn’t too much, but still wanted to bounce your ideas off of someone before you committed anything to paper.

“There’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend,” Neville said. His eyes glistened with joy and there was a slight shake to his hand. Noticing it, you carefully laid your hand over his. It had become a habit of yours over the past month. It was a way of alerting him that you were listening to something he cared about. There was definitely nothing any bit romantic about it. Anyone could see that, but Ron still cleared his throat.

You looked to your boyfriend furrowing your eyebrows at him. HE made a simple gesture to your hand over Neville’s, but he didn’t say anything. You turned your attention back to Neville and urged him to continue.

“I was thinking that we could maybe go to Dogweed and Deathcap. I heard that they got a shipment of moly this week. I’d really like to get some before they sell out of them again.”

“That’s a good idea, Neville,” said Luna.

Luna had appeared behind you and seemed to want to sit between you and Neville. You happily slid over to make room for the airy girl. You knew that Neville had a crush on Luna. Because of this you would often do things to put him in a position to talk to her. You smiled at the two as Luna went on about the may uses of moly.

When you looked back to Ron you saw that his jaw was clenched tightly and he was grinding his teeth. Harry was talking to him about some theory he had said a million times about Draco. Everyone was tired of it, but Harry rambled on.

“Ron are you okay?” you asked reaching across the table to lay your hand over one of his clenched fists. He pulled it out of your reach and stood up. No one was really paying any mind to you two as he turned and stocked away. You sat there confused about why he was acting that way.

For the next week and a half, Ron continued to behave weirdly. He would always wrap his arm around you in the common room or hold your hand when you were walking down the hall. He would get so mad and quiet whenever Neville was around you, but he would always pull you closer to him. You were worried that Ron was mad at Neville for some reason, but you couldn’t really piece together anything that made sense.

“Harry, is something wrong with Ron?” You asked one night in the common room. Ron had seen you talking with Neville about some homework and stormed upstairs to the boy’s sixth year’s dormitory without a word. “I don’t think so,” Harry said looking at you. “Well, come to think of it, I have noticed he’s been a bit quieter lately.”

“Do you know why?” you said. You were pushing Harry to really think about it. Harry was a smart guy, but sometimes he was the most oblivious person you had ever met. You often were the one to help Harry see the bigger picture of things because you weren’t sure if he could get there on his own.

“I have no idea,” Harry said. “I think I will go ask him.”

With that, Harry turned on his heels and made his way to the stairs.

“Ask him to come down and talk to me,” You called to him before he was too far away. Harry just gave you a thumbs-up as he climbed the stairs to talk to Ron.

You flopped back down onto the couch and returned to your homework as you waited. Minutes ticked by and people came in and out, but none of them were Ron. You were growing impatient, but you weren’t ready just yet to go up after Harry.

As you were on your seat you felt the couch dip beside you. You turned to see Ron’s solemn face looking down at the ground. The two of you sat there not saying a word for at least five minutes.

“Ron what’s wrong?” you said Breaking the silence. You reached to set you hand on his shoulder., but he shook you off. It was so strange of him to act this way.

“I think we might need to break up,” Ron said. It was so quiet that you could barely hear him. Maybe you hadn’t heard him right. You didn’t want to have heard him right.

“What?” you asked from him to repeat himself.

“I think we need to break up,” he said louder this time. Shaking your head, you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What do you mean? Why?” you croaked out. A lump had formed in your throat making it hard for you to speak.

“I just think it will be best for you,” He answered. When he looked at you there were tears budding at the corner of your eyes. You shook your head more drastically this time.

“No,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Y/N, we are changing,” He started. “You are absolutely amazing, but you are changing and growing. I can’t stand in your way. I know that Neville likes you. It’s so obvious that it hurts to watch you two. I think you like him back, and I just can’t watch it.”

A single tear fell down your cheek, but the rest stopped coming. You started laughing quietly. Ron thought that there was something going on with Neville? “Ron,” you said softly laying your hand on his leg.

He looked up at you. You saw that there were tears in his eyes the size of oceans. A frown was etched into his sweet face. You were sure that he was going to move out of your grasp again.

“Ron, nothing is going on between me and Neville,” You said. “Neville is just a friend and a great herbology study buddy. Besides he likes Luna and even if he didn’t still I love you.”

Ron seemed to search your face for something. You knew that he was looking for any signs that indicated you were telling a lie.

“You love me?” He said. It was so quiet that you might have missed it if you hadn’t been alone. For the first time all night, you two were the only ones in the common room.

“Of course, I do,” you giggled. “How could I not. You are smart and brave and kind. You are so loyal to those you care about and that’s what I love about you. Plus, you are an amazing kisser.”

Ron smiled at that. He laughed along with you. Gently, he brought a hand up to your face.

“You think I’m a good kisser?” he seemed to like this question as there was even a smile in his tone. He pulled you closer to him by wrapping his other arm around your waist. His lips hovered over yours. You felt his warm breath fan out along the bottom of your face making your stomach fill with butterflies. You brought your legs on to his lap to get even closer to him.

“The best,” you said. Your chests were pressed together filling you with warmth from head to toe. You closed your eves as you felt his lips press against yours. It was a perfect moment. Your tears mixed together. You could taste them as he pulled you closer to him.

“I love you,” Ron said after you pulled away. Even though you were out of breath, you laughed just a bit.

“I love you too, Ron,” You said. You kissed him again.

Whatever insecurities and jealousy Ron had poured out of him. You two were in a world all your own.

#ron weasley #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley imagines #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x you #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley angst #ron weasley fanfic #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley oneshot #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine

21 notes · View notes

ruminativerabbi · 4 years

Text

More Light!

I first read The Lives of the Caesars by Suetonius, the famously gossipy and endlessly amusing historian of the first twelve Roman emperors, when I was in graduate school. Lots of the book stays with me still, but among those anecdotes he relates that I could cite in a letter that might possibly fall into the hands of children my favorite has to do, I think, with the death of Vespasian—the archenemy of the Jews of his day and the Roman most responsible for the brutal defeat of the rebellion that left Jerusalem in ruins and the Temple razed. He was dying of terminal diarrhea (which detail appeals to me for some reason) and sensed that his end was near, when, so Suetonius, he looked at the people assembled by his bedside and archly said, “Vae, puto deus fio,” which translates loosely as “Vay iz mir, I think I’m turning into a god.” Okay, the vay iz mir part I just made up. (Although vae in Latin means roughly the same thing as that longer Yiddish expression that oddly starts with the same word.) But the rest is slightly funny, slightly pathetic: since the Romans in his day liked to imagine their deceased Caesars turning into minor gods, Vespasian apparently though he could announce his imminent demise in an amusing way by forecasting his posthumous deification. Hardy-har-har!

That story came back to me over the last week as I received email after email about my last letter, the one in which I quoted Leonard Cohen’s song about light coming into the world because everything, somewhere, has a crack in it through which light can seep. I used that image to frame some of the good things I perceived as having happened lately, incidents or events that reminded me—in a particularly dark, distressing couple of months—that where there is darkness there can also be light…if you know where to look for it!

One writer asked me, I think seriously, if I was turning—not into a Roman god—but, in some ways even less probably, into an optimist. My regular readers know that optimism is hardly a hallmark of my worldview. Just to the contrary, I think, is the case: I have read too much—way too much—history, and particularly Jewish history, to see things other than clearly. And, at least for me, that means understanding mindless anti-Israelism not as a momentary aberration but as an integral plank of Western culture, as merely the latest iteration of the anti-Judaic sentiment that underlies too much of Western culture to be removed or even removable other than by the cultural version of a tectonic plate shift. So, no, I don’t think I’m ready to look out at the world and declare myself even a non-cockeyed optimist. And yet there have been just lately some positive, encouraging events that I omitted to discuss last week. And so, at risk of being accused of abandoning my systemic pessimism about the universe, I thought I’d risk writing about them this week. Why not? I’m on a roll!

I am thinking of two recent events principally.

The first is the conference that took place just last month in London that brought together Arab intellectuals and leaders from fifteen different Arab countries: Morocco, Sudan, Libya, Egypt, Lebanon, Iraq, and nine Persian Gulf states, all of whom were apparently of the mind that the best way to bring peace to the Middle East would be for Arab states, as well as the Palestinians, to engage with Israel, to abandon the decades-long boycott of the Jewish State, and to welcome Israel as a partner-in-dialogue. Even casual students of the Middle East will understand easily how surprising—or rather, shocking—a development this was. And yet, there they were: journalists, artists, scholars, politicians, and scholars (including scholars of the Quran) sitting together and saying clearly that the refusal to acknowledge the reality of Israel’s existence has mostly cost the Palestinians what could otherwise have been the opportunity to build their own state with the willing, even eager, support of their Israeli neighbors.

The group has a name: The Arab Council for Regional Integration. And they have a leader too in one Mustafa el-Dessouki, an Egyptian who edits an influential Arabic-language news magazine called Majalla. More recognizable will be the name of Anwar el-Sadat, not the assassinated Egyptian leader (obviously) but a namesake and nephew whose major claim to fame—at least so far—lies in his having been expelled from the Egyptian Parliament in 2017 for not being sufficiently obsequious to Egyptian President (and strongman) Abdel el-Sisi.

I’ve read several accounts of this meeting. (To sample some, click here, here, here, and here. To hear former P.M. Tony Blair’s address to the group, click here.) All seem in agreement that these people are sincere and that they represent a real sentiment among many in the Arab world—albeit one rarely expressed in public—to the effect that the real way to pave a path into the future for the Palestinians is for Israel to be made to feel secure, thus less inclined to act solely defensively, and to foster an atmosphere of mutual undertaking and endeavor that will make Israelis into real people for their Palestinian neighbors and, in some ways even more dauntingly, vice versa. This is something I’ve hoped would happen, basically, forever—the sudden appearance of a block of respected thinkers prepared to enter into sustained, respectful dialogue with Israeli leaders that is not “about” Israel’s right to exist but rather about the ideal way for Israel and its neighbors to relate to each other, to work together on projects of mutual benefit, and to create the kind of peaceful setting in the Middle East that would benefit all concerned parties.

It’s just a beginning. It’s not even that much of a beginning. But it is something…and, as far as I can see, it actually is real. I feel buoyed, almost encouraged, slightly hopeful, marginally less pessimistic—all highly unlikely developments for someone who prides himself on the sobriety and realisticism of his worldview. And yet…here we are! Something new has happened. Where we go from here, none can say. But all can hope!

So that was the first event I wanted to bring to your attention. The second has to do with a visit just last week by some senior journalists from Iraq, Egypt, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia who came to visit Israel for a five-day visit. Organized by the Israeli Foreign Ministry, the guests all came from countries without diplomatic ties to Israel. But they came anyway, and this too represents a kind of sea-change—or at least the intimation of the possibility of that kind of sea-change—in the intransigency and obstinacy that has characterized even relatively liberal Arab writers when it came down to accepting the reality of Israel and understanding that the path to peace in the Middle East is through dialogue rather than violence. Yes, it’s true that these journalists, apparently fearing repercussions at home if it became known that they had been in Israel, retained their anonymity during the trip. But that only makes their visit more, not less, remarkable: here were people with everything to lose. And yet they came, partially (I’m sure) out of curiosity, but apparently also to take a principled stance against the mindless rejectionism that has led exactly nowhere in more than seventy years.

Their visit was not totally unprecedented. Last summer, a group of bloggers and journalists from Iraq and the Gulf States who came to Israel also last month as guests of the Israeli Foreign Ministry. In some ways, it was a normal trip: visits to Yad Vashem, the Temple Mount, the Knesset, etc. But this too was something we hadn’t ever seen: young writers, particularly bloggers, from Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and some Gulf States traveling around Israel, seeing the people not as a faceless enemy but as actual individual men and women, attempting to understand the culture of the place and its sense of self. (To get the idea, click here for a picture of a young Saudi blogger named Mohammed Saud and Yair Netanyahu, Bibi’s son, sitting side by side and apparently getting along just fine.)

None of this is going to matter in the long run if the participants are doomed to be outliers who represent no one but themselves. But I have long hoped—even prayed—for something like this, for people on the other side to realize that the great hope for a future for the Palestinian people lies in dialogue and cooperation, not in violence fueled by self-generated despair.

Yes, it isn’t much. In some ways, it’s hardly anything at all. But you know how it works with cracks and light: even the narrowest crack has the capacity to let in enough light to change everything! As Chanukah, the Festival of Lights, approaches, that seems like a positive notion to keep in mind.

#Arab Council for Regional Integration

2 notes · View notes

puppycat714 · 6 years

Text

The Secret in the Garden Prologue James Potter x Hufflepuff reader

Requested: no

masterlist Part 1

Word count: about 1.8k

Warnings: death, and potentially swearing?

A/n~ Hello so this is my first fic ever. I was doing random prompts and somehow this one just turned to a James Potter fic? Anyways so this chapter is just an introductory. I really wanted to do some back ground stuff before throwing the reader through whatever is to come. You don't have to read this but I highly suggest you do. Just to have a better understanding of what's going on. I planned on having it out within the beginning of the month but life happened and college. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

Gif is not mine nor are the characters that belong to jkr.

Chapter 1: change sucks

Life changes everyday, whether you notice it or not. We usually only see the big ones. The ones that changes our lives.

At the age of ten you thought you’ve been through it all. Until the first major change in your life happened. Which lead you to more changes in the years to come. When you were ten, you’re mom died of cancer. When she was first diagnosed, it was a stage 4 brain tumor. There was nothing any of the doctors could do. She died six months after the diagnosis.

Your dad was never the same afterwards. I mean he lost his wife, but you lost your mother. The was an ice cold slap to the face. After her death, he had to take another job. He found he had a knack for art, so he would paint houses, rooms, backyard fences, anything helped. Your mom was an ER doctor, and he worked construction. So money wasn’t a huge worry. She had left some money for you guys thanks to insurance. Your dad wanted to leave as much of it as possible to help you with college.

Around the age of eleven, you began to spend a month of your summer in England. After your grandmother on your moms side heard about the incident, she wanted me over more. I’d only see her twice a year before, and we had a close bond. When I stayed for the first time for that long, the first week was awkward. By the end you didn’t want to leave.

At the age of fourteen your grandma died. When you heard the news, it hit you as hard as when your mom died. According to the doctors, it was a heart attack. You remember the day clear as day.

*** FLASHBACK***

“Dad, I’m home!” you called out. There was no answer, which is unusual. You were pretty sure it was his day off. You set your bag down, and went to the kitchen. You saw your dad hunched over the table. Your first thought was that he was working on something. most of the time he's working in his book, which he swears he’ll finish. You spoke again, “dad?” He jumped up not realizing you were there. The moment you saw him, you knew something wasn’t right. His usually bright (y/d/e/c) was dull, and glazed over. Not to mention his puffy, red eyes. His (y/d/h/c) was a tangled mess. His face looked ten years older than his age, and he was frowning.

He gave you a fake smile, and said, “hey sweetie, how was school?” This was his was of trying to hide/avoid something. Usually you’d roll with it without questions, but today was not that day

“What’s wrong dad? Did you get laid again?” It wouldn’t be the first time. Ever since your mom died, life hasn’t been the greatest of lives. We’ve had enough to last this long, but there were times that were close. Way to close for my liking.

“Umm… you may want to sit down for this honey,” He looked awful. You walked up to the table, and sat across from him. Then he started saying, “Look your- your grandma…” Oh no, this is it… isn’t it? You felt tears in your eyes threatening to fall, but not yet. Your dad was the exact same way. He continued, “Your grandma passed away last night,” You let out a shaky breathe. One you didn’t know you were holding.

“what?” you mumbled under your breathe. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. You knew this feel. You’ve felt this type of dread once before, but you had hoped to never experience it again. It’s the type of feeling you should only have to feel once in your life. After a moment of shock, realization hit you in the face. She’s dead. The gates let loose the flood of tears you were trying to hold back. Once they opened, they won’t close until there’s nothing left. At this moment your dad came to you and held you close as you both cried. He was as close as I was to her, if not more so. He’s said many times to you how much he saw her as more of a mother than his own.

After a while you both calmed down, so he continued, “she left some of her things to us. We have to- to leave. We need to go set her funeral, and pay our respects.” At this point his voice was low and raspy. You nodded. You felt so empty in that moment. After that your memory becomes hazy, but you know there were more tears.

*** FLASHBACK ENDS ***

Within the next few days you were on a plane heading to London. After the plane landed, your dad had gotten a motel room to stay in while everything was being figured out.

One hour after you arrived, you found yourself stuck in a motel room by yourself. Your dad went to talk with her lawyer to figure all the legal stuff, so you figured you’d be here a while. Luckily for you, you had brought your favorite book series with you, just in case of course. It was Harry Potter. Right now you were reading Order Of the Phoenix. It was both your favorite and least favorite book in the series. It was your favorite because it had a great plot, and some of your favorite parts in the series were in this book. Unfortunately it contained one of the hardest deaths in the series. It still hurts even though you’ve read this book at least ten times. I’m Sirius (an: I’m so sorry that was such a bad joke but I couldn’t help myself).

You do have to admit though that the Half Blood Prince was a close second. It revealed a good part of the Marauders era. J.K. Rowling needs to make a side series to give an explanation on what the hell happened during that era. Yes she had revealed some stuff, but it wasn’t enough for you. There were still to many holes, and so many unanswered questions. It has always bothered you. You had so many unanswered questions. There were countless nights where you couldn’t sleep (thanks to your insomnia). You would be thinking about different scenarios to fill those holes. Unfortunately they never filled all the holes, and questions. Sometimes it would create more.

Before you knew it, it was dark outside. You knew your dad should be home any minute now. Then you hear the door open. Speak of the devil. You put your book down and looked up. You felt your face turn to a frown. Something wasn’t right. You called out, “hey dad. How was it?” You felt like you knew what was coming, but you wanted to be sure.

He acknowledged you, “Hey kiddo we need to talk,”. Here we go again. Your dad came towards you and sat down on the bed next to you. After a minute of silence, he sighs and looks at me straight in the eyes. Shit this isn’t gonna be good. What he says next shakes you to the core. “ according to her will, your grandma left more than a few things for us,”. He paused for a second and continued, “she left everything for us. Her money, her house, everything…”

You sat there in silence. You didn’t know how to react to this new information. You knew where this was going, and you didn’t like it. You asked the one question that was plaguing your mind within that moment. You asked him, “what does that mean for us?”

He stared out of the window in thought. The silence was becoming deafening. Finally he looked at me and said, “ I feel like we should take advantage of the situation. It would be in our best interest to move to her home. Its all paid off, and its better than what we have in America. Not to mention the education system here is so much better than America,”. Damn he had to play that card. He knows I take my education seriously.

I wasn’t for this idea, but I knew he was right. We could both have an easier life if we decided to live there, but it was to soon. She just died for Christ sake! After a moment of thinking, I commented, “If you believe its going to be the best for us I won’t object. As much as I hate to admit it your right, but could you at least hear me out?” He gave me a sympathetic nod and I continued, “ You realize that if I go into her house, its gonna hurt me. I’m used to seeing her welcome me when I go, and your asking me to walk in there right after she died. Knowing she won’t be there to welcome me, hug me, make cookies, do gardening. All these memories will flood through me, and she won’t be there. Now your asking me to live in her house?”

Right away he replied, “We don’t have too. We can stay in America, but this could be a good opportunity for us, (y/n)”. Then there was silence.

You sigh looking down at your hands. God he was right. You hate it when he’s right. You loved your little house in America, but you couldn’t ever make any friends. You were an outcast there. You guys settled down this past year. Before it was always moving due to the demand of his job. So making friends was hard anyways. it could be good to live here. It just hurts that I’d have to live in your dead grandmas home. After thinking, you gave him an answer, and said, “You’re right dad. Okay lets move here, but can I finish the school year in America?”

* * *

It has been a few months now. After a few more talks, you and your dad decided the best course of action was to move to her house. So there you were packing your bags and boxes. It was so surreal to be moving to another country. You weren’t excited. One thing you weren’t okay with was change. Ironic isn’t it? Considering both your grandma and mother died, meaning you had to adjust to a new life. What you didn’t know was you would only be in the home for a year before something magical turns your world upside down.

@roxytheimmortal

#james potter x reader #james potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #i hope this is okay!#have a lovely day

46 notes · View notes