#riddled with sports injuries | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

voiidlizrd · 7 months

Note

Omg I came across your Star Child fic and I and IN LOVE.

Do you think we could get a continuation?

AHHH!!! Thank you all so much!! I really appreciate the love from the last post too! It means a lot to me since I love writing things like these! (＾▽＾)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Dorm Leaders and Hurt/Sick Star!Child Reader

Disclaimer(s): Little bits of angst but lots of fluff and comforting! May include gross stuff like throwing up, bits of blood (due to accidental injury!) and things like that! Also typos.

Includes: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Malleus

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Riddle is apart of the horse riding club and brings you along to usually just watch, considering he cannot leave you alone without a proper adult (aka Trey and usually only Trey or maybe Carter considering he doesn’t trust the other dorm members as far as he can throw them) around to make sure you don’t eat anything or set anything on fire… again.

But then again, he does really enjoy bringing you along. You seem to really enjoy the horses and they seem pretty alright with you, mostly because they don’t seem to care either way wether you were around or not. Either way, Riddle thinks it’s nice to have you around.

But then you wanted to ride his horse with him!

“Pleeeeease? Just this once? I won’t ask again!” You whined tugging at PE uniform shirt, giving him a pout and attempting to do those puppy dog eyes to sway him, but it never usually works unless you annoy him long enough.

“You’re too little, Y/N,” Riddle said, putting the rattle on his horse and tightening its straps. “You might get hurt if you aren’t careful.”

“But you’re little too.” You said casually, giving him a blank look. It only worsened the blow as you just insult him based on his height.

He grits his teeth and feels his cheeks heating up, face scrunching up. “Hush! I’m older than you which is why I ride the horses! You’re like, what, nine?”

“I’m one.”

“You’re at leaste nine.” Well, you appear nine years old, but if he were getting technical, you were right about being one since you falling could be counted as your birth and having a human form, making you one, or maybe two years old.

“Still, you cannot ride the horses. Not yet at least. Maybe when you turn ten for your next birthday—“ which you picked yourself! Apparently you wanted the day to be the first time you met him, which totally didn’t make him want to cry… “I’ll let you ride the horses with me.”

You huff and cross your arms, making Riddle sigh at you, lightly ruffling your hair (though awkwardly, he’s still getting use to giving you affection).

“Riddle!” Sebek called from afar, his horse fully set up by the reins. “I think your reins are in the shed by the stables! Silver forgot to put them where they usually go in our last meeting!”

Riddle huffed and gave you one look and gave you a little smile, a small attempt to comfort you a little, before lightly jogging back to the stables and near the shed, which was a few yards away from the large sports field. Which left you alone with Riddles horse, those big beady black eyes staring into yours.

You lifted your tiny hand up to the neck of the horse’s brown fur, lightly patting it, which the horse merely stared at you as you attempted to pet it’s mane as well. It seemed unbothered but you and your antics, not even flinching or trying to nip at you when you threaded your fingers through its hair and caught a knot.

Then you got an idea…

You blinked at the horse and then grabbed onto the saddle, jumping up a few times to try and put your foot into the foot holders. After a few tries, you were able to hoist yourself up, though awkwardly and partly dangling halfway off the other side, attempting to readjust yourself, before finally sitting on the sattle.

It was high up there. To you and your little self, you thought you were a giant, a ruler of the world! Why would Riddle ever want to stop you from being this tall!? Was he jealous? You bet he would be if he saw you now!

“Y/N!” Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. “GET DOWN FROM THERE NOW!”

The burst of his voice and the fact he was racing towards you and the horse spooked the horse, making it get all fidgety and start to move around anxiously. Riddle didn’t notice until he got too close, realizing that the horse was now officially stress out and you were left clinging onto it as it ran off, Riddle whistling after it and calling for it.

You lost your grip on the horse’s mane and you were easily thrown off given how small you are, tumbling to the ground and kicking up dirt, your dorm uniform messed up and scratching yourself on stray rocks that were lying about.

Riddle wasn’t lying when he would say his heart dropped because his heart did stop and drop to his stomach when he saw you fall off and hit your head on the ground in the process.

“Y/N!” He called, his horse slowing to a halt when Silver ran up to intervene.

He crouched down to your side and held you in his arms, checking you over and feeling a little relieved when he didn’t see any blood, just a couple scrapes and bruises. But hitting your head would be worse than any blood.

“Are you alright!?” Riddle asked, trying to make you open your eyes and look at him, but you kept your eyes tightly closed, possibly from dirt getting in your eyes. “Y/N?”

“Are you two alright!?” Sebek came running over with his horse and looked to Silver who held Riddle’s horse and his own. “How about you put those two away, I’ll put my horse back in the stables later, Y/N needs medical assistance!”

You blinked your eyes open for a moment, rubbing the dirt that hurt your eyes and looked to Riddle. Riddle’s expressions was odd, especially since he hadn’t looked like this before, so fearful and concerned. He watched at you sniffled once, twice, and then you started bawling your eyes out, wailing loudly and wrapping your arms around his neck. You weren’t feeling any pain other than some stings, you just felt overwhelmed with the adrenaline and the sudden rush and how terrified Riddle looked.

“Y/N?” Riddle wrapped his arms around you, threading his fingers through your hair. He didn’t realize how tight his grip was around you.

“I-I’m sorry!” You cried, snot running down your nose and tears running down your dirt covered cheeks as you buried yourself in his shirt. “I’m sorry!”

If you had done this before his overblot and before he had a seriously reality check coming to him, he would’ve screamed his heart out at you and scolded you for hours after getting you to the nurse, but he couldn’t find it in himself to blame you. After all, you are just a child, practically a baby.

“It was not your fault!” He said grabbing your face. “I should have been more watchful of you. It was my fault.”

You continued you cry and press your face in his neck, wrapping your legs around his torso like a koala. Silver and Sebek tried to ask what they needed to do to help, but Riddle dismissed them both, prompting to carry you to the nurse to take a once over to make sure nothing was broken.

So that’s what Riddle did, he swallowed his pride and carried you all the way to the nurse. Who cares if other people are staring at him while walking down the halls!? He was gonna get you to the nurse!

In the end you were perfectly fine, just needed a bandaid or two and a seriously cleaning up. All the while you refused to let go of your koala grip the whole time, not even when you two got back to the dorm.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Riddle stared back at him and sighed, feeling grey hairs already starting to form. “

Trey stared at the sight slightly amused and very confused. You clinging to Riddle with a dirtied uniform and Riddle looking stressed than ever holding you just as tightly as you were holding him.

“So… What happened?” Trey asked.

Riddle sighed and could feel grey hairs starting to form. “Can you watch Y/N from now on whenever I go to club meetings?”

“…Yeah? Why…?”

“Just… Do it. Please.”

“Okay?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It had be hours and you still haven’t let Riddle go. The only time you did, you did in order to get dressed and take a bath, then you went straight back to koala mode, feeling very clingy now towards him after his concern and your near “death” experience with a horse. Now, Riddle, didn’t mind the first few minutes of this koala holding/cuddling, but now it was starting to get a little silly. Anytime he tried to get you off, you started tearing up immediately, which made Riddle panic and let you back up in his arms, which now left him sitting on the couch with a little child clinging onto him and refusing to let go.

“Y/N I have to get up, can you please let go?”

“No!”

Riddle sighs. This will be going on for a while.

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Leona left you usually to Ruggie most of the time, considering he sucks with children, but that usually fails since you come back around to him no matter where he is. He swears you’re like a leech rather than a star and considering he knows Jade and Floyd, it says something. But something about today makes him uneasy.

He was resting in his room, ready for a nap because he was exhausted of everyone around him, and curled up ready to sleep it away. But then as he settled, he realized how quiet it was aside from the usual chatter outside from his dorm members. That was normal. What wasn’t normal was the fact you were running into his room ready to either bother him, usually asking (demanding) to nap next to him, like you always do (which he allows you to do because he’s too tired to tell you no). But there wasn’t a single sound of your tiny self scrambling into his room nor Ruggie attempting to grab you from jumping on the grumpy sleepy lion, though Ruggie barely tried to stop you since he found it adorable. You were like a demanding sibling needing attention from their big brother. It reminded Ruggie of how he looks up to Leona. Leona didn’t understand it, but dealt with you reluctantly.

Now he was restless because you’ve officially ruined his napping routine. He growls and slinks out of the bed, practically stomping out of his room and finding yours easily, since it was closer to his and Ruggie’s. That’s when he heard Ruggie cooing over you and your soft crying. He entered the room, the door already cracked open, and sees you in your bed shivering and crying as Ruggie puts a cold rag over your forehead, trying to comfort you, although a little poorly since his encouraging words fell on deaf ears.

“I don’t wanna die…” You cried out. “It hurts!”

“I know, I know,” Ruggie sighs. “But don’t worry, this is perfectly normal! It’s just a flu. Your body is just fighting off a bad sickness, is all.”

“It hurts… Make it stop…” You sniffled, your nose all stuffed and fighting against wanting to throw off the blankets and keep them on, your body going from hot and cold in minutes.

“You’ll be alright after a few days, promise.” He said with a little smile, patting your head. Then he noticed the prince standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hey Leona, uh just gimme a sec, I gotta make them take this medicine.”

“No!” You protested, attempting to sit up but immediately laid back down when your head throbbed. “It tastes nasty!”

“Well, this is gonna help you get better faster so I’d suggest taking it!” Ruggie huffed, pouring the liquid medicine onto a tablespoon.

Leona felt himself shiver at the idea of the medicine. He’s had his fair share of drinking that liquid poison and he still could remember the taste on his tongue.

“What’s wrong with the brat?”

Ruggie huffs in frustration as he tries to put the spoon near your mouth, but you kept moving your face away. “They’re sick. I think their body now is starting to get use to the more human side of things, like sickness and whatnot.”

You then realized Leona was there and gave him a look, lower lip trembling as you stared at him, staring. “Leo…”

Sniffling again you reached out to him, grabby hands demanding him for a hug. He gave you a face, scrunching up his nose, and he shakes his head.

“You’re sick, no way in hell am I getting close to you.”

“Hey!” Ruggie tried to shove the spoon in your mouth since you’re cut off guard, but you shove your face under the blanket. He groans. “I’m the one dealing with them! What happens when I get sick, huh!?”

“That’ll be your problem.”

“Asshole.”

Ruggie wants to give up with the medicine, opting to just wait until later when you’re sleepy and unable to fuss and just make you drink it, but Leona has different methods. He grabbed the spoon and yanked the covers off, making you protest loudly.

“Hey. If you drink this, I’ll stay here with you. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you and I can’t nap since I feel like you’re gonna smother me in my sleep all the time.”

Your eyes lit up and you grabbed the spoon and drank the medicine like it was nothing and the whole fight against it was for nothing. Ruggie was definitely pissed but decided not to show it, merely twitching his eye and his tail swishing in annoyance behind him.

But then he suddenly got chipper. “Hey! Since you’re gonna watch over them, you’re clearly gonna take care of them the whole time since their sick, right?”

“No, wait that’s not what I meant-“

“Thanks Leona!” He was already out the door. “Bye!!”

Leona growled under his breath but then looked at you. You were staring at him with a frown, small tears going down your cheeks and a hand grabbing at his large hand, pathetic pleading eyes looking back at him.

“You’re not leaving me, right?” Your voice rasped. “I don’t wanna be alone…”

Ahhhhhh shit. That hit him in the gut. He was frowning before but now it looks like he’s frowning but with a wince. He complains a lot about you, but he seriously cannot ever say no to you, usually. Something he learned when he was a kid is that if you weren’t in the spotlight, you’d never be in the spotlight at all. You were either met with dismissive glances or small smiles of pity and words of pretend, or just generally being met with judgment. You were just a little kid with nowhere to go and no family at all, with him left to care about you. He cares about Cheka, but then again Cheka was a reminder of something he could never have. Even though he’s given up on it a long time ago, it still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. But then there was you, just a silly baby child who barely knew anything about the world and complaining about dying over a simple flu, crying and sniffling about it. No crown, no family, no nothing. Perhaps he can give you what he never got.

Leona sighed heavily and his ear twitched, practically shoving you to the side and flopping down beside you. You immediately latched onto him like the little leech you were, sniffling and whining about your head hurting and your eyes hurting too.

“Calm down and try sleeping.” He huffed, patting you awkwardly on the head.

It went quiet for a moment and he relaxed, shutting his eyes and yawning loudly while you kept yourself latched to his arm like a rat.

“Leo…?” Your voice came out quietly. He huffed through his nose and made a noise in acknowledgment.

“I read about family in stories,” you said. “And I’ve heard Ruggie talk about his siblings and I thought of you. Does that mean we’re a family?”

NO. NO. NO NO NO NO. What is this warm feeling inside his chest? This disgusting warm feeling that makes him feel happy and proud? Gross. Sickening… he wants to bash his head in the wall from how overwhelmed he is with this feeling inside this chest causing his heart to ache. He subconsciously rubs your back and sighs.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Now go to sleep.”

Ignoring the bright smile going across your face, he shuts his eyes tightly and yawns again. You are quick to pass out, given how exhausted you are and the medicine kicking in. Perhaps it’s because your body hasn’t experienced the medicine nor a flu before, so the energy you have is quickly dwindling because of it. He’ll have to talk to that birdbrain Crowley and see if he can get you a doctor to get any shots. He can’t have you dying on him because of some flimsy illness in the potential future. Who knows how weak your new immune system is.

He’s just gonna ignore how brotherly he sounds.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“I told you so.”

“Shut the hell up Ruggie.”

“NO LEO DONT DIE!”

“I’m not dying, I just have the flu. The flu you gave me, need I remind you.”

“IM SORRY!!!”

“Oi! Stop crying all over me!”

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Azul isn’t that good with children. That isn’t to say he doesn’t try. Jade and Floyd are usually untrusted by him to take care of you. Sure they have siblings of their own, but given how they are, there is no doubt that they’ll turn you into more of a menace than you already are, especially since you keep biting him with those grimy little teeth of yours.

Well, there is also the fact your enamored with your body. And that’s not bad, every child gets curious about how they look from their feet, nose, mouth, eyes. This didn’t exclude you. But unfortunately, you’re more questioning how your body functions. Now, he can’t answer most of your… weird questions…

Where does blood come from?

What does blood taste like?

What do my organs look like?

What do your organs look like.

…

He tries his best not to give you an answer to most of them, given how fucking weird they are. And he doesn’t blame you. In all honestly, you’re around Floyd, so he would be more surprised if you aren’t curious of how long the human body can go without air (which you did ask him about).

Creepy little gremlin child.

But it’s whatever. You’re a kid and one that hasn’t been in an actual body before. Again, your body is human, but it has very different functions from what he could tell.

Then, the day came where you got sick. He thought it wasn’t possible, but somehow it was after yesterday. You were messing around in the big tank again but refused to dry up properly. He tried to warn you;

“Y/N, you need to dry up. You’ll get sick.”

“No I won’t! I’ll be fine. I don’t need to worry about human illnesses.”

You ate those words when he found you curled up in your bed, sniffling and pouting and complaining. He was like a disappointed mom, a hand on his hip with a “I told you so” expression on his face.

“Zuzu,” you peaked at him from beneath your blanket, pleading eyes. “I think I’m dying.”

“Not dying. Just suffering the consequences of not listening to me.”

“You’re so mean!” You whined, sniffling and shivering into your thick blankets.

Jade entered the room with a knock on the door. He had a bowl of hot mushroom soup in hand, homemade and one of your favorite foods in Mostro Lounge, but the more you thought about eating it, the more your stomach did not want it.

Seeing your nose turn up and frown, Jade chuckled and sat beside you on the bed. “You must eat.” He said holding the spoon. “You’ll only start complaining about how your stomach hurts. If you don’t, I will force feed you.”

Sheesh that dangerous smile he was giving you sent shivers down your spine, making you pout more and your mind practically hissing in protest, but you give in and take the bowl and spoon.

“Awe poor starfishy…” Floyd had entered the room with a pout of his own collapsing at the foot of the bed. “Can’t you just spell it away, Azul?”

“Well…” Azul looked at your face as you slurped at your soup, but then beamed at him when you looked at him. He smirked at you. “No. I think you’ll do just find fighting it out. After all, your body must learn how to handle sicknesses like these.”

“You’re so mean ZuZu!” You cried. “I don’t wanna be sick anymore!”

“It’s your fault for not listening to me, Y/N.”

“I said I was sorry!!!”

Azul ushered Floyd and Jade out of the room, knowing that they’d probably scheming against him or making this even more difficult. As much as he loved his friends, he knows they can be a pain in the ass for him. Especially when it came to you, who’s an even more pain in the ass.

You finished your soup and left the soup bowl on the bedside table. You fully laid down and still had that pathetic look on your face as you looked at Azul. Azul couldn’t help but feel upset looking at you, a heavy feeling in his heart. Ah… Perhaps he was a bit too harsh. He sighs and takes his seat next to you, which you immediately latch onto him, which he awkwardly returned the side hug, but let you mostly leech onto his side.

“I would help you with a simple potion, but your body needs to get use to the more human side of things. This includes illness.” He explained as gently as he could for you to understand.

“But I don’t wanna!”

“Well you’re going to have to.”

You smothered yourself into his jacket, which he would have to wash later, but he sighs and pats your head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here for you the whole time, alright?”

When you looked up at him with those big ol’ eyes and smile, even with how puffy and your nose being all runny, he couldn’t help but feel his heart clench. He wants to throw you because of this overwhelming feeling, how dare you make him feel this way! (He’s gonna protect you to the day he dies, no, even after that, he’ll always protect you.)

“I love you zuzu! I’ll get better soon so we can swim!”

“That’s the reason you’re sick in the first place!”

…

“HEY DONT BITE ME!”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You had gotten better over the past few days, as he expected, but you’re up to your shenanigans again.

“Y/N! I TOLD YOU! NO SWIMMING SO SOON!!”

“Awww come on Azul!” Floyd was already in the tank and in his eel form. “The starfish is just fine now! It’s perfectly fine!”

You stared at Azul from up top near the tank and you two locked eyes.

“Y/N…” Azul put his hands on his hips, trying his best to look stern.

You continued to stare at him, inching closer to the water.

“Don’t you dare!”

…

You flopped into the water.

“Y/N!”

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Kalim wholeheartedly believed that today was gonna be a good day. He woke up feeling refreshed and you were acting less of a gremlin today so Jamil was ALSO in a good mood!

You two were hand in hand as he dragged you about Night Raven. Kalim’s plan today was to bring you to Jamil’s basketball practice to cheer him on. Though Jamil never really like Kamil coming to his practice matches since, well, they were just practice and nothing special, he did cave in when Kamil pleaded that he wanted to show you various activities that people do at Night Raven, which included basketball, which you had no idea what it was.

So there you were sitting at the benches watching the small match between Floyd, Jamil, and Ace. You were lightly cheering on Jamil with what he believed was encouragement? It was mostly you copying Kamil, who mostly said “go Jamil!” and you’d repeat him with a cheer that wasn’t very animatic as Kamil’s was, monotoned sounding, but he knew you meant it, even if you didn’t know how to express it, which made him want to try even harder! Even if it was just practice.

“Are you watching, Y/N?” Kamil was smiling beside you as he watched you watching the practice. You nodded and matched his smile, in awe when Floyd snatched the ball from Ace and slammed it into the hoop yet again. Which made Ace complain but Floyd was enjoying messing with him.

“Jamil is so cool! Maybe he can teach you a bit of basketball if you’re interested! I can try convincing him.”

You weren’t all that interested in the game itself, mostly with the ball they were throwing around. Your tiny brain was going nuts over the orange ball they passed and dribbled on the floor, watching it bounce. You wanted it because it bounced! You can throw it at so many things and it’ll just bounce! How cool was that!? To you, it was genius.

Your bitty baby brain wanted that ball.

You’re gonna get that ball.

They stopped practice after a while, which you weren’t sure when, and Jamil called for a fifteen minute break. Jamil then approached the bleachers where you and Kamil were sat. Kamil smiled joyfully at the sweaty player.

“You were so cool Jamil! Im glad you let us watch you practice! You work so hard!! Also wasn’t Y/N a great cheerleader? Even though they didn’t sound very enthusiastic.” Kamil rambled to Jamil, who looked more and more annoyed since he was tired.

Jamil sighs. “Thanks you two, really. But Kamil, could you mind helping me bring out the cooler? I forgot it back at the locker room. Ace is being dramatic and Floyd is… Well, he’s Floyd, he doesn’t wanna bother.”

“Of course! Uh… Y/N do you mind waiting here for a bit? We’ll be back in no time! And there will be yummy snacks in the cooler too!”

“But there’s only enough for the players…”

“Then we’ll share!”

“I doubt Floyd will like that.”

You basically checked out of their conversation, only focused on the ball tucked in Jamil’s arms. He noticed and smiled at you, handing you the large ball. The surface was much harder than you expected, also bumpy! You were fascinated.

“Mind holding this for me until I get back?” You nodded hastily and your nose was touching the ball. Staring at it intently. Jamil was confused but let you do your thing, it’s basically how he gets around when you’re being weird, like usual.

When they left, you were left with mostly the other players in the gym. There weren’t a lot since they all mostly headed out to make use of their break time, which left you mostly alone. You stared at the ball. You threw the ball lightly in the air and caught it with ease. Up and down and up and down. You did this for a while until you started bouncing the ball on the bottom of the bleachers, catching it each time. This was amazing and you loved this ball. But you wanted to toss it and let it come back to you, like how Jamil does on the court. So you stand up and walk down the bleacher stairs and onto the court. The other players didn’t pay any attention to you, only giving you a once over before doing their own things. You looked up at the hoop above you. It was very tall from what you’ve seen, but up close it was like staring up at a giant! You remembered some of the moves Jamil did when throwing the ball, like jumping up and throwing it. So you… Tried to do that. But unfortunately your jump was barely an inch off the ground and you tossed the ball hard into the ring of the hoop, causing the ball to bounce off it and come right back to you

And into your face.

The sound of the ball smacking hard against your face rang out in the gym as your whole face burned with the sting, the force of impact making you fall back, your butt now hurting from the fall, but your face hurt even more, especially your nose.

“Y/N!”

Instantly Kamil was at your side with more tears in his eyes than you. You weren’t even sure how fast he ran. Jamil was following right behind him with him carrying the cooler. Apparently from how it looked, Kamil’s second senses went off halfway in the hall while carrying the cooler and promptly let it go and ran off.

“Oh my Sevens, Y/N, are you okay!?” Kamil was on the verge of sobbing as he held your face gently. “Y-Your nose!”

You’re in a daze when you realize the wet feeling running down your nose. You press your fingers under your nose and found blood. Surprisingly, you barley even realized it and were more focused on Jamil’s ball. You stood up, ignoring the fact that the world was spinning and you were seeing double, grabbed the ball and wiped whatever little blood was on it, and handed it over to Jamil before collapsing into Kamil’s chest.

“OH MY SEVEN THEIR DEAD!”

“THEY ARENT DEAD KAMIL STOP SHAKING THEM LIKE THAT!”

“WAHH Y/N!!” He was sobbing like a baby while you were sleeping peacefully trying to get rid of the massive headache.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You were banned from ever touching the basketballs ever again after that day, only ever using the soft ones and those made you bored very quickly because they weren’t the hard ones.

“Kamil I’ll be careful next time, can I please-“

“No! What if you slam it so hard into your face you hurt your brain or-or crack something?!”

“I don’t think that’s possible…” Jamil was on board with the whole “playing it safe” with the balls but Kamil was being a little dramatic.

“YOU NEVER KNOW!”

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

(I got more comforting with Vil than silly cause I love Vil)

Vil had sent you to the school to find Mr. Crewel to see if he had spare devil ginger root and other ingredients that he could use in potions he was creating for the class. They were for a homework project, but unfortunately, he didn’t have enough and the shop was closed due to Sam being out for the day. So he sent you to find Crewel. Sure, to others it would seem irresponsible, given how you were just a small baby with little thoughts behind those eyes, but Vil knows that you are a smart potato, even when others seem to doubt your ever learning intelligence. So you were proudly walking down the halls with determination in your eyes as you went down the remembered route to Crewel’s class. You were on a mission and you weren’t gonna stop until you got the ingredients Vil needed for his homework.

You turned up hallway and up the stairs where Crewel’s classroom would be down the hall, when suddenly a group of students from mixed dorms came running, possibly chasing each other or for some sort of reason and didn’t seem to notice you, barreling past you. One bumped into you, causing you to stumble backwards. You stumbled over your own two feet, falling backwards down the short flight of stairs, slamming down hard on your knee when your body twisted to the side and your legs unfortunately meeting the steps before you tumbled down the short flight of stairs and onto the floor.

You didn’t register that your knee was completely fucked at all, just blinking in shock when you lifted your upper body up and looked around. A couple of concerned students, a few of them Pomfoire, came to your aid. One of them almost fainting when they saw that your knee was sorta out of place. When you looked down and saw the oddly looking kneecap, you blinked at it…

And then started screaming.

Rook has a second set of scenes when it comes to you ever since you joined their dorm. He watched over you when Vil wasn’t around or he just watched over you in general. So when he heard the scream, he immediately somehow tracked you down within seconds, running to your aid. There he saw you on the ground with students trying to help you. He ran to your side.

“Dear étoile!” He noticed your knee and cooed lightly, as if trying to comfort a small rabbit, and gently lifted you up to carry you to the quick as he could.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Vil burst through the nurses office and ran to your bed where you laid. “Potato! What on earth happened!?”

You were a little teary eyed but mostly worn out because the nurse gave you medicine to numb the pain. Rook sighed.

“A couple of first years were rough housing in the hall and bumped into the poor starling and fell down the stairs. Do not worry, I have tracked them down and gave them a… thorough lecture before handing them off to the headmaster.” Rook grinned and patted your head

Vil huffed. He would have to ask who the students were for… personal reasons that you didn’t need to worry about.

“Vil,” you sniffled at him and your tiny hand grabbed his finger, making him look at you. “It hurts. Can’t you use your power to make it go away?”

He couldn’t deny that he could heal you with a minor potion, but then again, he doesn’t know how this could affect your body. It’s new for your human body to sustain injuries and you were a child. He grasped your tiny hand gently and tried to smile at you comfortingly.

“I cannot do that, potato. I’m not sure how your body could possible handle not being able to heal itself if I didn’t allow it. I’ll find something to numb the pain for you, do not worry your little head about it.”

He would hater check you out from the nurse and bring you back to the nurse and put you to bed. When injured, you needed to rest. He’d have to check you in with the nurse again later down the line to regularly keep track of your healing progress. But that could wait. You just needed to sleep.

He laid you down on the plush of your bed, putting a pillow underneath your knee to keep it comfortable and upright so it doesn’t curl at an angle that would hurt you. He stood up, about to leave, when you grasped the arm of his robe.

“Vi-Vi?” You gently called. He looked to you and his heart ached. Sometimes he does forget you are a child given your personality and how much you try and annoy him. “Can you stay with me? Please?”

Now his heart was hurting and in agony at how quiet your voice sounded, so drowsy from the medicine kicking in. Normally, he would try and convince you to not cling onto him, but you needed him more than ever. After all, you were just a baby.

He sighs and nods. “Of course potato.”

He moved besides you and let you cling onto his arm while you remained on your back, unable to really move because of your casted leg. He never really thought he’d find himself in this situation but he gently pats your head to lull you to sleep faster, which worked surprisingly well.

It made his heart clench even harder when you nuzzled yourself into him, a comforted smile on your face.

Yeah, he’s made up his mind, he’s gonna curse those students. No one hurts you. Ever.

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Iida felt horrible. Really, he did, even though it wasn’t really his fault, he knows that too, but he can’t help but feel bad.

You were laying in bed, a bucket beside it, looking miserable as you sniffled and cried, trying to throw off your blanket, but Idia would gently pull it back up.

Just a day ago, you were fine, great in fact. You had scored a 89/100 in Mr. Trein’s class, one many thought you’d fail at since it was the same difficulty as the rest of the class and you were quite literally born maybe a few months ago, so you knew very little on the history of Twisted Wonderland, but you worked hard and scored a high eighty-nine and Idia and Ortho wanted to treat you to some good takeout. It was a new place to Idia so he’s never experienced the food before, but it was the most convenient and close to the school itself. When he picked it up and brought it over, the three of you spent the night in his room watching shows he was very interested in, which you enjoyed since Idia was excited about it the whole time and his excitement transferred to you. Plus you had yummy food with you!

But then during the night you felt horrible, like, really horrible. Your body was on fire, equivalent to how hot you felt while being a star, and sweating profusely, but you were shivering. It confused you to no end and overwhelmed you. You eventually had to throw up in the bathroom toilet, which you ran to, and then started crying because to you, you felt like your insides were trying to get outside! Which is something that they’re NOT suppose to do.

Idia found you in the bathroom on the floor crying because you were confused and hurting at the same time. Ortho had to help him because Idia was on the verge of crying himself because he was panicking!

Ortho, bless his heart, managed to calm both you and his brother down in the mists of your screaming with his intellect.

“Based on my scans, it appears that Y/N is suffering from a stomach bug!”

“THERES A BUG INSIDE ME!?”

“No, no! It’s just a virus!”

“AM I GONNA DIE!?”

“Based on your immune system, I’d say you have a 90% survival rate!”

“WAHHHH-“

“Ortho!”

Well… He helped a little! Idia had to bare with you clinging onto him as he tried to convince you that you weren’t dying. Now here you were, inside his room snuggled into his blankets because you refused to stay inside your room while like this. You stopped throwing up a while ago when Ortho gathered some basic stuff that your stomach could handle, plus medicine. Ortho was sat on the bed near you, Idia at his desk gaming on his computer. You started crying again because your head was hurting and your stomach ached. Ortho gently pat your head, brows furrowing in concern. Idia was already stressing and it could be seen in his gaming and how he was dying more than once in a row. His teammates were less than pleased, to say the least.

“Do not cry, Y/N! Big brother and I are here for you. Just keep drinking your water, you’ll get dehydrated if you continue crying!” Ortho attempted to comfort you but it was met with a scrunched up displeased look on your face.

Idia groaned and exited his game and decided to join you and Ortho. He wasn’t the best at comforting, but somehow you find comfort in having both him and Ortho around, plus it was the only way you’d get to sleep.

“Ortho is right, Y/N. You gotta sleep so you can get better.”

“But what if I die in my sleep? I won’t be able to see you or Orthie again!” Your frown was almost comical and Idia could laugh, but he sighed and sat on the bed, instantly you cling to him.

“You aren’t gonna die! You’re more dramatic than me and that’s saying something…” He knew he was gonna get sick because of you but he could worry about that later.

“Dida?”

“Still not my name but, yeah?”

“Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“You’re in my room! Not many places a hermit like me can go!” He would stay with you either way, but that’s okay.

“I’ll stay with you as well, Y/N!”

You smiled for the first time in two days and managed to stop crying. Idia laid down beside you, albeit stiffly, and Ortho happily plopped down beside you as well. The metal of his body was able to provide heat and coolness to keep his systems running smoothly, which means his body was cooling you off when your body was as hot as the sun itself. Or it just felt that way. But inside you, the warmth wasn’t uncomfortable, you felt happy.

“Adidas?”

“Wh- Why? I-“ he sighs, honestly he knows you’re doing this on purpose but it still surprises him. “Yeah?”

“Are we a family?”

Ah shit. Idia was panicking internally. He knew he was going down the found family route, but he didn’t realize how much it would hurt when it was said out loud! Truth be told, he didn’t believe he could do anything for you, that he wasn’t ready for this. Constantly, whenever he looked at Ortho before his Overblot, all he felt was regret, guilt, self pity. He’s managed since then, especially since you helped him out, you gave him hope and a bit of confidence in himself. On top of that, seeing you with Ortho made him proud. Like he was a big brother of two little siblings.

Now he wants to scream into the pillow because of your question.

“I believe we are, Y/N!” Ortho piped up. “Big brother Idia always takes care of you like he does with me! And he’s very caring over you and likes to teach you things! That’s what family does, right big brother?”

Idia was currently trying to reboot.

“I- Uh…. Yeah? Um. Yeah. Yeah I guess we’re a family…”

“Yay! Y/N is my little sibling!”

“But I wanna be the big sibling.”

“You said that you were born only a few months ago when you arrived here at Night Raven! Therefore I am older than you!”

“Idia tell him that it’s my turn to be the big sibling!”

“Just go to sleep Y/N.”

“I will throw your figurines.”

Now he’s starting to regret considering talking to his family about adopting you! You’re a monster in disguise! (He’ll still talk his parents into considering.)

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

Lilia can’t cook. This is a fact and he is actually banned from the kitchen. So when Silver saw Lilia in the kitchen, he knew the day was gonna be filled with bad luck. And he was right.

You were minding your own business watching the others practice on their brooms for the next game, especially with how Malleus balanced himself on the broomstick with ease and did seemingly easy tricks on it. And you wanted to do it yourself! So when the others weren’t looking you grabbed a spare broom and quickly levitated in the air with you attempting to balance yourself on it.

“Y/N, GET DOWN FROM THERE!” Sebek yelled from the ground after returning from his water break.

The sound of his voice startled you from your brief daydream while on the broom. You jumped and lost your balance on the broom, flipping onto one side and losing your grip, your crossed legs unraveling as you slid off, but the underside of your left leg caught the broom on your way down, which caused you to pull it painfully. As you tumbled you didn’t even scream while you internally panicked. Then, before you hit the ground, Malleus swooped in quickly on his broom, snatching you just before you hit the ground, losing his own balance on his broom and onto the ground. He wasn’t injured as bad as you would be since he was already riding low to catch you. His heart was hammering inside his chest as he held you tightly, shuttering quietly as he tried to calm himself.

“Y/N?” Malleus didn’t realize how shaky his voice was until he spoke. “Are you alright?”

You blinked at him and then looked down at your leg. It felt sore at the thigh and throbbed painfully. You didn’t understand what was wrong and decided to start crying. Malleus sat up with you in his lap and he was staring at you with a confused look on his face. Lilia, Sebek and Silver all came rushing over.

“WAKA-SAMA! ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?”

“I think you should be more concerned at the screaming child, Sebek.”

Lilia, who said nothing, came to your aid immediately with his fatherly instinct kicking into overdrive.

“Y/N, starlight, where does it hurt?” He asked, grabbing you from Malleus and lifting you up.

You could only sniffle and point to your thigh. He understood and cooed lightly at you. Malleus stood up and stepped forward to try and bring you back in his arms.

“Malleus?”

“I want to bring Y/N to bed. I can watch over them.” Malleus spoke, his arms out to grab you, which you looked ready to jump out of Lilia’s arms and into the arms of the dragon fae. Lilia was a bit worried about you, but figured you’d want to be with Malleus more than anything after what happened. He smiled gently and handed you off to Malleus, which you climbed to him sniffling and whimper as your leg throbbed. It wasn’t too bad as it would’ve been, but you definitely pulled something. Badly.

“YOURE SO GENEROUS WAKA-SAMA! ALL SHOULD TAKE INSPIRATION!”

“That’s all you’re seriously focused on Sebek?”

“…That’s not true, you know I am worried as well…”

Malleus, in a blink, brought you to your room and laid you in the bed, which was soft and top quality, only the best for you.

You sniffled again when you were set down in the bed by Malleus, the blankets pulled over your body. He didn’t mind that you were dirty, he just wanted to get you to bed immediately to rest.

“Mal-Mal…” You sniffled a little. “It hurts.”

“I understand, beastie.” Malleus sat down beside you and ran his fingers through your hair. “Hopefully it will be better in the morning. If not, I shall carry you.”

“Beckie won’t like that.”

“Beckie will have to understand.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

True to his word, he carried you after you said it hurt even more today than it did yesterday. Lilia I as most please seeing Malleus carry you. It was amusing to see him carry you around since you were just a little baby (or at least he liked to believe you are.)

“Waka-sama, I don’t mean to question you, but do you believe it’s a good idea to carry Y/N around NCR?” Sebek had asked the morning before going to classes. “We can’t have you ruining your reputation!”

“Y/N will not ruin my reputation, Y/N is injured, so I shall carry them all throughout classes.”

“Be careful, Malleus, some might see you as soft.” Lilia grinned a little while fixing your uniform collar and tie.

“I do not care nor mind, Y/N matters more.” Ah, the priorities of a dragon at its finest.

“Whatever you say, lord Malleus.” Silver yawns as he straightened his tie.

Malleus looked down at you. You hadn’t even woken up after he picked you up once you finished dressing yourself, albeit messily. He’d wake you up, later of course, but it was nice seeing you rest and not in pain and talking about your hurting leg.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“…”

“Have something to say, Kingscholar?”

“I dunno, I’m still thinking this is a dream. A really weird one.”

Leona was currently watching you sit on the future fae kings lap eating mango slices from a bowl… it had to be a fever dream…

#x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #twisted wonderland azul #twisted wonderland riddle #twisted wonderland vil #twisted wonderland leona #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland kamil #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader platonic #fanfic

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yuurei20 · 2 months

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Translation from Twisted Wonderland the 2nd novel: Spelldrive Practice Match (pt5/5)

"Spelldrive is a timed sport, and a considerable amount of time still remains. Already battered, it seems unlikely that Cater and the others will make it to the end safely.

This is beyond just a one-sided match: this is bullying the weak.

Yuuya turns to leave. ‘I’ll call someone right away, so just wait a little longer!’

‘Hey, where do you think you’re going!’

A nearby Savanaclaw student firmly seizes Yuuya’s shoulder. Yuuya cries out in pain and fear, and—unexpectedly—Leona calls them off. ‘Feel free,’ Leona says, his tone gentle, watching Yuuya.

‘Call anyone you like. I wonder who will come.’ Leona begins counting on his fingers. ‘A reliable teacher? A wonderful friend from your class? Or perhaps that naive tyrant, the pride of Heartslabyul?’

Cater’s expression changes. After a few moments, Yuuya realizes that he is talking about Riddle.

‘Whoever it is—do as you like. We’d love for you to prove for us that we are simply playing a game of Spelldrive. But there’s no telling how intense things will get while you’re gone.’

It is a blatant threat, but there is no counter that anyone can make. Yuuya’s face contorts in frustration, and it is the same for them all.

It is just as Leona says: it is only a game. A one-sided game against the much stronger Savanaclaw. No matter what injuries they suffer, they will never be able to prove without a doubt that it was due to excessive violence. This was probably Leona’s idea from the start.

They never should have challenged an opponent like this. Looking out over the field, alternately glowing white under the lights and burnt with shadow, an overwhelming powerlessness strikes Yuuya through the heart.

Magicless as he is he cannot stand in for anyone, and he has neither the power nor the wit to stop the game. But he cannot simply stand silently by and watch this violence, this conflict—it is terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuya makes up his mind. Somehow, he has to call someone who can stop this fight. As he moves towards the exit, the yellow shirt of a Savanaclaw student fills Yuuya’s field of vision.

He closes his eyes instinctively, but no one grabs his arm this time. Instead a low voice says, "Move."

A student steps forward, standing in front of Yuuya; towering over him. He is a tall beast-person with broad shoulders and a broad chest, to the point that he stands out even amongst the students of Savanaclaw.

With a gently shifting, long, silver tail, he confidently steps out onto the field.

‘Ah,’ Deuce exclaims upon seeing him. ‘Jack…!’

A muscular student with an athletic build. A beast-person from Savanaclaw with large, pointed ears. He must be the Jack they had been searching for.

‘What are you all doing?’

#twisted wonderland #twstnovel2

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morverenmaybewrites · 2 months

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Do you think Jason would ever contemplate getting tattoos to cover up the scars?

Contemplated it? Maybe, in passing. I'd like to think that back when he was working as the Arkham Knight or still healing from his injuries in Santa Prisca, he'd stare at a tattoo sported by one of his militia men or by one of the mercenaries he encounters.

And for the briefest of seconds, he'd entertain the idea of using tattoos to cover his scars. Maybe he'd even start thinking about where to get the first one: his shoulder which was just a mass of keloid and scar tissue or perhaps his hands to hide the ugly dents left behind by clumsy stitching? Could the random patterns of acid burns on his back be turned into constellations? But then, reality hits and it hits hard.

The simple fact is that there are just too many. I sort of envision his entire body as being absolutely riddled with scars, and this was done on purpose: so that no matter where Jason looks, he'll always be reminded of what happened to him.

Even if he tries to cover up a scar with a tattoo, there'll always be the next one, and the next one, and the next one--because when the Joker said that he was going to make Jason his, he meant it.

Can you imagine how awful it must have felt for him, realizing that someone had destroyed you so thoroughly that your body no longer feels like it's your own? To realize that even if he tried to cover it up, he will never able to get hide all of his scars? Maybe he'll cover them up just enough to be able to forget, just for a little while. But then, one day--maybe while changing, maybe while in the shower, he'll catch a glimpse of a scar and he'll remember all over again. I think. after that realization, Jason pretty much gave up at the idea of covering them up.

#ask #kibblbread #jason todd #jason todd analysis #i had to dig around and look for my copy of the girl next door #because there's that one passage that really informed how i write how jason feels about his scars

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acey-wacey · 2 years

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Can I request the “getting hurt” HCs with Riddle, Leona, Azul, Cater, Floyd, Jade, and Malleus pls ty!

Hi hi, lovely! I've already done Leona and Floyd so I'll do the rest. Just for future reference, I only do 5 characters per headcanon so keep that in mind next time you request!

⚠️TW: mention of injuries⚠️

This has more graphic descriptions than the others but it's still mostly fluff.

...

You Get Hurt

...

🌹 Riddle Rosehearts 🌹

Babysitting the ADeuce combo all the time naturally comes with repercussions.

So while they were messing around in alchemy, you tried to stop them from messing up the potion and got burned in the process.

You weren't hurt too badly but the skin on your arm began to swell and blister.

Once you went to the nurse and got it bandaged, you felt right as rain.

You knew Riddle would overreact so you chose not to tell him about your unfortunate encounter.

It was quite presumptuous of you to assume that Ace and Deuce could keep their mouths shut for 2 seconds.

As soon as Riddle heard about your injury, he made a mental note to punish his troublesome underclassmen later and rushed to your side.

He won't let you get up from your bed for at least a week.

You can insist that only your arm is affected but he refuses to let you do anything.

He just wants to take care of you. Please. Let him.

He helps you apply your antibiotic ointment and changes your bandages every couple of hours.

He's just really worried about your aptitude for injuring yourself.

You have to hold Riddle back from collaring Ace and Deuce.

...

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

While you were leaving for class, you accidentally slammed the door on your fingers.

It hurt like a bch and the Ramshackle ghosts were privy to the string of swears that followed the incident.

Your hand now sported a red gash across your fingers.

Once you bandaged your fingers and got an ice pack, you went on your way to class because you still couldn't skip class, even with a swollen hand.

Azul immediately noticed the bandaged on your hand and asked you about it.

You dismissed it, not realizing how concerning it was to him.

He doesn't really know what he can do to help with your injury but he tries his best.

His immediate reaction is to solve the problem, so he starts looking into installing self-opening doors.

But of course, the problem arises, what if you get your hand stuck in that too?

You calm his worries by convincing him that all he needs to do it cuddle with you and maybe bring you treats on occasion.

I stand by the headcanon that he is squeamish around blood so he tries to help you change your bandages but you can tell he's really uncomfortable.

You tell him he doesn't have to look at your injury if he doesn't want and his only response is "thank the Seven" as he closes his eyes and leans against the wall.

...

♦️ Cater Diamond ♦️

(kinda based on falling for you??)

In flying class, your broom got a little out of control and before you knew it, you were plummeting back down to the ground.

Unfortunately, this time, there was no prince charming to catch you so you hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

As you screamed in pain, Cater ran to you and scooped you in his arms.

(I'll spare the gorey details)

When you got to the nurse, she examined you and said you had a hairline fracture in your fibula.

Cater was more nervous than you were, aggressively bouncing his leg and staring at your ankle as if he can make it better with sheer willpower.

You had to get sent away temporarily to get an operation on your ankle and Cater was stressed out the whole time.

He couldn't go with you because he wasn't immediate family but he didn't sleep a wink while you were gone.

When you got back the next day, you had a white cast and crutches.

It took everything in him not to run to you and hug you as hard as he could.

He's doing his best to make things easy for you.

He holds doors and helps you get down the stairs (seriously, it's a magical school, you would think they have elevators).

If the pain ever gets too much, he has ibuprofen on hand.

He just wants to hold you and kiss you and keep you in a little bug box so you can't get hurt anymore.

...

🍄 Jade Leech🍄

Similar to Floyd's scenario, it was also his fault, thought not in the way you would think.

He coerced you into helping out at the Mostro Lounge, not taking into account the small limp you already had from running around doing errands for Crowley all day.

While you were rushing to get everyone their orders, you tried to ignore the worsening cramp in your calf.

By the time you were up to your ears in orders, you felt a pop in your calf and your leg gave way.

Upon further inspection, you had pulled your calf muscle by putting excessive strain on it.

Jade chuckled to himself at your unexpected misfortune but was much obliged to carry you back to your dorm.

He offered to make a deal but was quickly silenced when you stared him down, gesturing to the swollen bruise on your leg.

You couldn't hold it against him though. It's in his nature and you signed up for this when you started dating.

He puts on his kindest business persona for you, always refreshing you ice packs and running small errands for you.

It only took him a few snack runs to realize you were playing him.

He just laughs, much obliged to be your servant for the day.

You deserve it since it was his antics that resulted in your accident.

He isn't usually affectionate but you can get away with demanding a few kisses since you're obviously so poor and unfortunate.

...

🐲 Malleus Draconia 🐲

The ghosts at Ramshackle usually minded their business but occasionally, they get a little moody and throw a fit.

This particular temper tantrum resulted in a ceramic plate being thrown directly at your face.

After sending the ghosts to the corner for time-out, you got yourself an ice pack, wincing as it touching the swelling cut just above your eye.

As if on cue, Malleus showed up at your door, anticipating your usual nightly walks.

He definitely wasn't expecting your eye to be swollen cut and bleeding.

He canceled all his plans for the next day, much to Sebek's chagrin, to take care of you at Ramshackle.

Of course, he doesn't actually know how to take care of you but he tries his best.

He helps you bandage up your eye and tells you you look like a character from one of Lilia's animated TV shows (it's dazai lol).

Anything you need, he does his best to get it for you.

He doesn't let you get up since your depth perception is muddled and he doesn't want you running into stuff.

Your wound isn't too bad since the plate didn't actually hit your eye, nor did the shards cut you too badly.

But still, it's kind of nice to be doted upon by your local dragon.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disneytw #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #heartslabyul #octavinelle #savanaclaw #diasomnia

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ilikeyoualive · 1 year

Text

Part 1 of the 'Soap needs to learn how to ask for help' chapter, lol. I headcanon this explosives-obsessed man as someone with issues with always trying to prove himself, especially as the only human working in the field with literal supernatural creatures. That could give any man a complex, lol. And if you're interested in learning more about this AU, check out my Main Masterlist!

Warnings: Blood and injury, Bombs, Trapped under rubble

Word Count: N/A

Rule #3: You Have Nothing to Prove. They Know You're Human and Thus Have Human Limitations In the Field so Don't Be Ashamed to Let Them Know When You Need Help.

Three or four TF-141 members are already in the field, tasked with bringing in some criminal for questioning about the bigger fish that the task force is looking to catch.

The house that the criminal is holed up in is rigged to explode via IED in the basement, although they don't realize it at first. But when they do notice, it’s already too late and the criminal hits the detonator and the entire building goes up with the team inside. Ghost had all but thrown Soap away from the criminal and out of the kitchen (which is directly above the bombs) as the explosion happened, but the ground gives way under Soap’s feet and then he’s falling.

He wakes up to voices coming through the radio in intervals, it’s Ghost and Roach. They’re communicating with Price, occasionally asking Soap if he copies before devolving into planning mode again.

Soap raises his arm to reach for his radio and hisses, glancing down at his side, which was riddled with cuts of varying length and depth since it had been clipped by some debris as he fell. He’s bleeding sluggishly but steadily, his side already coated with red. It’s not an artery, so Soap’s not in danger of bleeding out right away, but there is a chance that he’ll go into shock if he goes untreated for too long.

Ghost had been burned by the explosion and is sluggishly healing, he's also straight-up impaled by some pipes that are nestled between the caved-in ceiling and the rubble below, limiting Ghost’s movement. Meanwhile Roach is sporting a few burns himself and is pinned from the waist down by debris, so he can’t shift to get out without severe discomfort.

They’re well and truly stuck for the time being -at least until backup arrives to dig them out- so Soap decides to write off his wounds as minor because clearly they already have enough to deal with as is without the resident human complaining about a comparatively minor injury that’s not even an immediate threat to his life.

But as they sit there, the bleeding doesn’t stop, and Soap realizes that he’s probably gonna die at this rate, he’s already a little woozy.

Soap asks Price for an ETA update on their backup, which is another ten minutes and that’s not mentioning how long it’ll take to dig them out. So, with great reluctance, Soap tells the team that he may have misjudged his initial damage report and that he’s lost quite a bit of blood and losing more as they speak, none of his team members are pleased about this development.

Ghost tells Soap to stay awake before he goes radio silent, all Soap can hear is a faint shriek of metal and the thud of moving rubble as his mind goes foggy with blood loss. His vision swims and the last thing he sees is a dark, emancipated form crawl into his little pocket before he passes the fuck out.

Cue him waking in the hospital feeling like death warmed over with a pissed off Ghost and Gaz lurking in the room waiting to chew him out while Roach and Price linger in the background looking wholly unimpressed and disappointed in equal measure.

#cod cryptid au #cryptid tf 141 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #modern warfare ii #modern warfare 2022 #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty mwii #cod mw 2022 #mw2 2022 #simon riley #john mactavish #ghost #soap call of duty #soap cod #ghostsoap #ghost x soap

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archive-of-artprompts · 6 months

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🎉SPIN THE WHEEL! Put your beloved blorbos and OCs into possible peril, at the mercy of your followers!🎉

Send in a number+character/s, and have that character drawn/written with that fate! (Tropes from tv tropes 📺)

And Show It to You - Death by removing their heart and showing it to them.

Animal Assassin - Death by use of a deadly animal (especially a venomous creature) as a murder weapon.

Attack on the Heart - Death by directly inflicting damage to the heart.

Bitter Almonds - Death by cyanide poisoning, which leaves the telltale scent of bitter almonds.

Bludgeoned to Death - Death by being beaten with a blunt object.

Boom, Headshot! - Death by firing a single bullet through their brain.

Cement Shoes - Death by being tied down with blocks of concrete and thrown into a deep body of water.

Chainsaw Good - Death by a buzzsaw or chainsaw to cut them into bits.

Chute Sabotage - Death by damaging their parachute.

Cooked to Death - Death by baking, boiling, frying, grilling, or roasting them with kitchen equipment.

Cruel and Unusual Death - Death by gruesome torture.

Dangerously Close Shave - Death by straight razor

Deadly Game - Death by losing a violent contest (sometimes based on a playground game.)

Deadly Remote Control Toy - Death by remote-controlled toys.

Death by Falling Over - Death by a fatal push.

Death in the Clouds - Death by being murdered onboard an aircraft.

Death Trap - Death by an improvised weapon designed to kill anyone who triggers the mechanism and gets trapped by it.

Demanding Their Head - Death by ordered beheading, and returning the head as proof.

Drowning Pit - Death by being trapped in a room or chamber that's being slowly flooded with water.

Electrified Bathtub - Death by dropping active electronics into a bathtub filled with water.

Fed to Pigs - Death by being locked in a pen full of hungry pigs.

Fed to the Beast - Death by handing them over to a man-eating animal or monster, to be devoured alive by the hungry creature.

Flaying Alive - Death by being skinned alive

Fright Deathtrap - Death by intentionally, fatally scaring someone

Gasoline Dousing - Death by pouring flammable liquids on their body and then igniting them.

Gladiator Games - Death by being forced to engage in mortal combat as some sort of twisted spectator sport.

Gutted Like a Fish - Death by disembowelment.

Hanging Around - Death by hanging them by the neck with a rope (noose), fatal by either asphyxiation or breaking their neck vertebrae.

Head Crushing - Death by squashing their head like a watermelon.

High-Voltage Death - Death by electrocuting them.

Kill It with Fire - Death by using fire or burning heat.

Kill It with Ice - Death by using ice or freezing cold.

Kill It with Water - Death by using water.

Literally Shattered Lives - Death by being frozen and then shattered.

Machete Mayhem - Death by using a big, long blade that's not exactly a knife or a sword.

Medication Tampering - Death by tampering with their medication

Moe Greene Special - Death by shooting them through the eye.

Multiple Gunshot Death - Death by being riddled with many bullets.

Murder by Cremation - Death by shoving them into a (kitchen or crematory) oven to burn them to death.

Murder by Inaction - Death by someone refusing to save their life.

Neck Snap - Death by twisting their neck hard enough to sever their spinal cord.

Not-So-Fake Prop Weapon - Death by using a real weapon disguised as a fake imitation.

Off with His Head! - Death by chopping off their head with a very sharp blade to cut through the neck.

Poison Is Evil - Death by use of a highly toxic chemical substance.

Sickbed Slaying - Death while they are lying in bed from illness or injury.

Sinister Suffocation - Death by choking or strangulation.

Slain in Their Sleep - Death while they’re asleep in bed.

Slashed Throat - Death by cutting their neck open with a blade, though without going for a full-on decapitation.

Vorpal Pillow - Death by smothering them with a pillow.

Your Head A-Splode - Death by making their head burst or blow up.

#words prompt #oc prompt #art prompt #monster prompt #word prompt #character prompt #cw #cw violence #cw death #tv tropes

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vodrae · 8 months

Text

DC Comics highschool AU where Bruce 18 and Harvey 18 are the golden twins (lovers) of the football team, but after an injury, Harvey is replaced with that nerd from smallville who's in the school's newspaper, and he's able to make Bruce cheer too !

Grrr

So Harvey's integrating the cheerleaders (and debate) team to stay close of the field and his mentor is the girl rumoured to be the great grandgirl of the last Chinese Emperor Talia Al-Ghul.

In this AU, there is an unofficial club of heavily mentally scarred gothamite kids, you know who i'm talking about, and they have been adopted by the Golden Twins (lovers), so better not mess with them.

Everybody knows Dick 17 , he has to settle down in Gotham when his parents died and social services were looking for a solution, Alfred Pennyworth took him in, he was there with Bruce that night. Captain of the gymnastic team, no enemy guy, the only one able to shine brighter than Harvey. Someone tried to mess with his girlfriend once, Kori Anders, apparently he also learnt muay thai on the road.

Jason Todd 16 , Stephanie Brown 15 , Duke Thomas 14, Harper 16 and Cullen Row 14 can't and won't deny coming from Park Row, sorry, crime alley, Duke is actually from Bristol, but you know, nuances are too complicated. They met each other in foster system and Dick too.

One day, when the orphanage was running very low on money, Jason appeared with multiple bags of food. The others thought he was joking when he said he stole the 4 wheels of the mayor's Bentley, when he, Jacob Kane, came with the police they weren't joking so much.

Long story short, they are Kane's wards now, it's was a package deal.

Jay and Duke are making the glorious hours of writing club, Jason would like theater and Duke chemical but Jacob made them pick a sport, Jason was kind of forced to go to the football defensive team, (Jake didn't digest the L against Metropolis in 86) and Duke for the running team. As fast as light.

Steph is Lois Lane's right hand for the school's newspaper, she's running their social medias with great sucess and is the head of gossip departement. Clark is the left hand for the investigation departement. She won against Jason, Harvey, Clark and others *wink wink* the biggest eater contest. She's now a subject for the quantum physics club.

Harper leads the electronics club, the school still remembers when her dog sized spider drone was unleashed. She's also in the kickboxing club.

Cullen is vibing in the theater and art club.

Kate Kane 18 can't stand all the dumbasses above but if she has a dream where you are glaring at them she will break your knees. Her father wanted her to do ballet, she's doing music and kickboxing. Bullying is her love langage.

Tim Drake 15 is a little genius coming in HS at 12, a unique feat until a certain someone from middle east came to school... He's driving Edward Nygma insane by solving all his riddles, photography and and electronic club. His parents are rich but always absent. 7 years ago, Alfred invited him for thanksgiving, never really left since.

Damian Al-Ghul 13 and Cassandra Wu-San 16 are cousins, they are not related but their family have known each other forever and Cass was there the day the demon spawned. Damian is Dusan's Al-Ghul son, who's 30 years older than his little sister Talia, the two are really too much well trained in martial field to be normal. Damian's is leading the escrima club.

Cass, despite being mute, is leading kickboxing club, noboby ever won a round against her. In the entire country. Except for her big sister Sandra Wu-San, also known in professional wrestling as Lady Shiva, who could give her a draw. Also she can't use technology to save her life.

The Wu-San are the adopted daughters of Dinah Drake (second cousin of Tim) and Ted Grant, a former world heavyweight boxing champion and a professional wrestler known as Wildcat. Together they have a bio daughter, Dinah Jr Laurel Drake-Grant.

A girl, Selina Kyle 18 claims she's not related to them but still has a permanent room in their house if she wants to come. Teddy met Jacob Kane in the army and were deployed in middle east together, he found his girls in some destroyed village in the Middle East and resigned right after.

Talia and Damian are from one of the oldest Asian family, and very old money. Some argues that was their family who created the first philosopher's stone. Their grandpa being the only person on Earth from the XIX century still alive is not helping. Ras wife's family helped the Americans in the Middle East that how he met Ted and Jacob.

Talia 18 is in the cheerleading club because of her HUUUUUUUGE crush on Bruce Wayne, best grades ever everywhere. Wants to become a vet.

Nyssa 17 Al-Ghul is in the kickboxing club and write her secret stuff just for her.

Barbara Gordon 17 is the daughter of the commissionner, someone shot her, she's paralysed. She's the captain of wheelchair basketball and in the electronics. She's a godess at armwrestling. For real she's an hydraulic press. She's really close of Dick Grayson and maybe she has adopted Steph, Cass, Harper as hers. Her own pose in school is with Dinah Laurel and Helena Bertinelli.

She's very competitive and will take very badly if Tim is just behind her again at the Olympics of hacking this year.

Diana 18 (who is at least as tall as Clark, i'm right on this) is leading the wrestling team and history club, she's a exchange student from Greece from a monastry where men are forbidden as a diplomatic move with her sisters. (in reality the opposite exists, for real). Her accent makes every boys and girls fall for her. She has a very strong sens of justice. One day she saw Bruce and Clark, not even talking together and..."Your mine now ! We're having tacos tonight !" They knew they couldn't negotiate.

Ollie Queen 18, everybody knows he will go to a board school one of the four (three) true childhood friends of Bruce Wayne. Captain of the archery team. Came with his own crew, all in the team. Desperatly in love with Dinah Jr.

Zatanna Zatara 18, her father was a close friend of Thomas Wayne, she's on a very good way to become a magician herself. One of the four (three) true childhood friends of Bruce Wayne. Leads theater club.

Hal Jordan 18, wants to become a jet fighter, obsessed with construction games. Mathematic club and running team.

Kendra Saunders 18, also known as Hawkgirl, because the week-end she's doing BASE Jump.

John Jones 18 and his half-sister Megan Morse 17, they are refugees from oversea after a coup. They love the special effects in movies and theaters so they are is this club. They came with

Kori Anders 17, princess in exile of Tamara, she's a really sweet girl so the school asked their sweetest student to guide her through her new life : Dick Grayson. Nobody knows how she mastered english in so little time. She had troubles with the differencies beetween the two countries. Everyone's favourite. Hurting, even a little Kori is declaring war to the whole school. She's also taller than anybody and very muscular. She kinda adopted Jason ?

Rachel Roth 14, is the daughter of the King of Azaroth, nobody really knows where it is. She's in the meditation and spiritual club. The only one allowed to hug, kiss, and touch her is Kori. The constant barking with Damian Al-Ghul can't only be hatred.

Donna Troy 17, Cassie Sandmarks 15 and Artemis Grace 16, they came with Diana. They all had a "Oh my god, he's so pathetic, I love him." With a Gotham Boy. They are all very tall and strong and in the weightlifting club.

Clark 18 and Jon 14 come from Smallville and are, 1) the sweetest guys ever, 2) fucking STRONG, there is a video on the differents groupchats of them, lifting the school gargoyle after a storm. Maybe farm strenght isn't the only explanation.

Kon 15 and Bizz 14 are from metropolis, Ma Kent's sister married Papa Luthor and they had Lex and then one rebelious and one albino with a speach impeachement, who is also the size of a polar bear. But, beware, Bizz is Jason Todd and Artemis love child. They haven't really figured yet what they want to do. Bizz is in special class with Cassandra Wu-San so you can regulary see her on his back giggling.

Linda 17 and Karen 18 kent, cousins of Clark by Pa Kent came back in town a few years ago after they lived their whole life in California. Linda is in the well-being club and liked by everyone. Karen is more on the amazonians side of the force and can't help herself but have homoerotic sparring with any strong woman on sight.

Dinah Jr Laurel Drake-Grant 18 embrassed her mom legacy and already took the mantle of Black Canary and can already put stages on fire. Her perfect figure must not makes you forget that she can beat your ass in seconds because she's in the kickboxing club too. Probably why Ollie is so in love. If you ask her if she's single, she would either tell you to fuck off if dhe doesn't like you or tell you she's already married with further explanation. (Could be either the stage, or Barbs and Helena).

Roy Harper 17 is in the archery team and music club with Dinah, nobody can sing the country and blues like him. He kinda adopted Jay with Kori too. Him and Jay made a pact to quit alcohol and drugs after they had a bad trip together on a joint in the toilet at a party together.

Lian Harper 14 is his little sister and will stay single until she's 30, at least. Well, everyone on the Arrow Team would like that. She loves hanging out with Dick and the others. Archery team too.

(I don't actually quite know a thing on the rest of the team, but they are there and well.)

The Allens all have their buddies too and are putting the race tracks on fire. Their father Jay Garrick holds multiple records of speed and gold medals. But not for long to his hapinness.

The Curry family comes from the islands in pacific ocean and are setting new records every years in swimming competition. They are all in bio courses to study marine life.

Harley Quinn 18 went in school with Bruce after his parent's murder, saw him sad, and never left him. One of the four (three) true childhood friend. She won't follow any rules but she's not a bad person. Wants to help everyone with their mental health, got a pretty big tik tok account and instagram on this topic. Her ex boyfriend, Jack, made her do bad things. But her (girl)friends Pamela, Selina and Bruce and a few others (all the people above) quickly talked to him. (Alfred signed a 100 000 dollars check for surgery)

Pamela Isley 18 leads the botanic club, she doesn't like people, like at all, would talk to grass but not you, she only started to like her figure when Harley couldn't stop ranting about her "water melon boobies" and "starship butt" in PE's locker room . Anybody else would be dead, but...It was Harley ? And Selina was laughing her ass off.

Selina Kyle 18, aka Catgirl because she's always wearing stuff with cat, her bagpack, cat ears, cat make up. She has a super model walk and won't accept shit from anyone. She wants to be a vet with Talia.

Jack Napier : still in the coma. AKA Joker, a nickname gained in jail for minors.

Thomas Eliott 18, the minus one true childhood friends of Bruce Wayne, wants him dead. Jealous that he had his inheritance before him.

(I spent 4 hours on this. Why ? BECAUSE I'M BATFAN)

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28dayslater · 1 year

Text

imagine being a sports fan in the omegaverse and right when your team’s riddled with injuries a key player gets pregnant by his fucking teammate. i’d be furious. or if your best player gets cowverted… you’d be on twitter defending him to rival fans saying yeah it’s sad he could have been one of the greats if he hadn’t been cowverted

#rachel was getting extremely mad about this in my dms the other day #i hope people know about cowvert or this post is gonna be completely incomprehensible

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leaderpinhead · 6 months

Text

Silver - A Knight's Duty

“Silver!”

Silver snapped to attention, having inadvertently dozed off again. He blinked in confusion when he saw Yuu running in his direction. He even glanced over his shoulder to be sure she was addressing him.

Flight was the only class they shared—seeing how Yuu was a freshman, and he was a sophomore—but it was the first time they had acknowledged each other during class. She normally stayed close to Riddle, who had taken responsibility for her after the reckless flight that had sent her to the infirmary earlier in the semester. Silver didn’t see the housewarden anywhere on the sports field.

Yuu was slightly out of breath when she reached him. Instead of pausing to catch her breath, she grabbed his wrist and began pulling him back in the direction she had come. Too shocked to protest, Silver allowed her to pull him across the field, pulling her out of the path of Azul’s low and wobbly flight pattern. “We’ve gotta hurry!”

Her urgency snapped Silver out of his stupor. He automatically began assessing the area for any threats, just as father had taught him and Sebek early in their training. He was ashamed to have missed something that would distress the prefect so much. There was very little he had seen at this point that could shake the prefect. Not even Leona’s overblot had affected her in this way.

One quick glance around the sports field yielded nothing, so Silver scanned it again. Coach Vargas stood on the far side of the field, boisterously encouraging Floyd and Kalani’s race around the field. Jade appeared very interested in a fairy circle that had appeared over night near the horse stables; Ruggie was exchanging something with Camryn, the hyena and fox beastmen constantly glancing around them. Azul still flew too low to the ground, but Silver assumed Jamil was working to correct him since the Scarabia vice housewarden followed him with a narrowed expression of concentration. There was a small group of juniors huddled together closer to the colosseum, and Silver could vaguely see Assistant Coach Leal’s shorter, stubby form directing them inside, likely for a short round of spelldrive.

All in all, there was nothing Silver could discern as an immediate threat. Yet Yuu was still clearly upset as she led him closer to the line of trees serving as the boundary of the sports field. Perhaps something had happened to Riddle? That would explain his absence and her distress.

When he saw the top of Riddle’s head peeking above a bush, he thought his assumption correct. His longer stride pushed him a step ahead of Yuu. “Riddle!”

Riddle visibly jumped, but Kalim appearing behind the bush like a toy on a spring caused Silver to stumble in surprise. Kalim’s large red eyes glistened with tears. “Silver! Thank goodness Yuu got you so quick. You have to help!”

Caha appeared from behind the bush as well, causing Silver to come to a full stop. The snake beastman’s hum sounded almost like a musical hiss. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Not that I normally question the wisdom of two housewardens, but you must admit, it may be better to...relieve him of his pain.”

“No one has to die today,” Yuu insisted. The grave statement startled Silver. Was Riddle in such a dire state? They should have retrieved the nurse—not Silver! “Besides, his only injury is his leg. That’s like trying to say we have to amputate your arm because you have an ear infection.”

Caha hummed. “Even if we were to take him back to the dorm and set the break, there’s always a chance it will not properly heal. He would have trouble getting around for the rest of his life, perhaps even be in chronic pain. Would that not be cruel?”

“I don’t want him to be in pain!” Kalim cried. He disappeared behind the bush again. “Hang in there, little guy!”

Riddle jerked away from Kalim. “Kalim! Give me some space.”

Riddle’s agitated tone spurred Silver forward. He quickly flipped through the first aid father had taught him, feeling far more awake now than he had a minute earlier. “Please, give Housewarden Rosehearts space. Apply pressure to any wound if there is one. If it appears to be a fracture, carefully elevate the limb above the heart.”

Caha hummed again, tilting his head to the side. Kalim frantically fluttered above Riddle, having obeyed Silver’s command for space. “But his leg’s so tiny! How do I elevate it without hurting him more?”

Silver slowly blinked. “I know Riddle is shorter than most of us, but there should be no issue elevating his wound once we lie him down.”

Riddle’s head jerked in Silver’s direction. He paused his approach when he saw the angered tint on Riddle’s face. “I am the average height a boy my age should be!”

Caha’s continuous hum morphed into a soft laugh. “And you still have much time to grow.”

“Exactly!”

Yuu grabbed Silver’s wrist again and pulled him behind the bush with the others. Silver paused when he was finally able to see the small fawn splayed across Riddle’s lap. Its head rested in the crook of Riddle’s arm, and one of its hind legs was awkwardly splayed behind it.

Yuu crouched beside Riddle and carefully petted the fawn’s head. “You poor thing. We just found it lying back here like this. I figured if there was anyone on campus who could help us, it was you.”

“That’s what I said too!” Kalim agreed. He widely grinned at Silver. “Animals always feel so comfortable around you.”

“Indeed,” Riddle agreed. He carefully shifted the arm holding up the fawn’s head. The muscles in his forearm noticeably twitched. “You have a soothing presence that calms even the more difficult horses in the stable. I have seen you tend to the rowdier ones with minimum issues.”

“I am honored you would think so highly of me,” Silver said. Praise from not one but two housewardens wasn’t to be taken lightly. He shook his head. “However, I am afraid I will not be of much help here.”

“How unfortunate,” Caha solemnly said. He patted Kalim on the shoulder. “I suppose not every creature can be saved.”

Silver shook his head again, but he had to wait until Kalim’s distressed whine ended. “I’m sorry I sounded so dire. I simply meant there is nothing wrong with him for me to help.”

The others stared at him in complete silence. Kalim sniffled. “The baby deer is okay?”

“Yes,” Silver said with an emphasizing nod. He smiled down at Riddle, who blinked back at him. “I have seen this little fawn before. He often finds me when I fall asleep outside. He pretends his leg is hurt in an attempt to make me stay longer. See?”

Silver crouched and gently tapped the back of the fawn’s leg. It jerked the limb out of Silver’s reach and stood without hesitation. It even added a little frolicking kick when it jumped around the tree trunks to find its mother.

Kalim cheered, his previous tears nonexistent. “Yay! Bye-bye, baby deer!”

Yuu emitted a small snort. “It was just playing opossum.”

Caha chuckled. “I suppose it found Riddle’s lap to be a particularly pleasant resting place.”

Riddle sighed and stood, lightly swatting the dirt and grass from his gym pants. “It is extremely rude to fake an injury.” A small smile appeared on his face. “However, I am still happy to see it unharmed.

Silver smiled at their shared humor. “It usually has a little rabbit companion with it. They both enjoy napping here around this time.”

“That would explain why I never see Leona skipping his PE class around this area.” Yuu clapped her hands together. “Well, crisis averted I suppose. I guess that means back to class.”

Kalim and Caha agreed, and they grabbed their brooms leaning against a nearby tree before heading back to the field. Riddle and Yuu mumbled to each other. Riddle grabbed his broom where it lie on the ground next to him. He nodded towards Silver. “Thank you for coming as quickly as you did. Though the outcome was unexpected, it is reassuring knowing you would come to our aid without hesitation.”

“Especially considering I just grabbed you and pulled you along without explaining anything,” Yuu added. “You could’ve just called me crazy and left.”

“I would have never done that,” Silver insisted. “While a knight puts his liege above all else, he doesn’t hesitate to assist those who are in need. That is what my father has taught me.”

Yuu smiled. “You’re definitely a knight through and through then.”

The praise was a simple one, but he reiterated it later while retelling his day, which earned him a fond pat on the head from father.

#twisted wonderland #twstober #silver #day 20 save

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the-al-chemist · 1 year

Text

Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles

Chapter 11: Foul Play

A/N: With the Quidditch season becoming increasingly ugly, the players try to find ways to not fall foul of Marcus Flint’s schemes. Hufflepuff team members belong to @that-scouse-wizard and @thatravenpuffwitch. Warnings: description of sports-related injury, mentions of ableism.

Artemis may have missed the Quidditch match in her attempt to uncover the identity of the stranger leaving messages for the Cabal, but she didn’t mind. Thanks to Tonks and Penny, she was given a full debriefing on the game over breakfast the following morning.

“Honestly, you thought our match was bad,” Tonks muttered, shaking her violet-haired head. “I’ve never seen a game played with so many fouls.”

“Well, that’s Marcus Flint for you,” said Penny, leaning in towards them and lowering her voice. “Murphy McNully says that he’s the youngest team Quidditch Captain there’s been in over fifty years. But, Waveney Wiley also told me that Marcus’s dad threatened the previous captain so that he would be one this year. You see, originally the captaincy was meant to go to Bakari Nyoka-”

“Their Keeper?”

“He was their Keeper, but he’s quit the team. The captaincy fiasco was one thing, but after he heard Flint’s plans for the team to play as dirty as they have been… Well, that was the last quill for him.”

“What I’d like to know,” said Tonks, slapping her palm down on the table so hard she almost tipped over her pumpkin juice, “is how we stop them from taking the whole bloody Cup. They thrashed us, and now they’ve absolutely batteredRavenclaw. This new method they’re using is paying off, and we can’t stand for it. Someone’s got to do something!”

But Artemis couldn’t see what could be done. If neither their match nor Ravenclaw’s could be re-played, the Slytherins would remain in the lead for the Quidditch Cup.

However, it seemed like Tonks was not the only one trying to think of a way to stop Flint’s foul play from succeeding. As she and her friends left the Great Hall, they found all three of the other Quidditch team captains engaged in what looked like a somewhat furtive conversation at the other end of the Hufflepuff table.

“We are well and truly out of the running this year. There’s no chance of us winning the Cup now,” Andre was saying, a comment to which Murphy made a low humming noise in response.

“Technically, there’s very few things that have an absolute chance of zero,” he told Andre. “But, I see your point. With Gryffindor’s win in your first match, and Slytherin beating you-”

“Oh, darling. There’s need to beat around the bush,” Andre shook his head sadly. “They annihilated us.”

“In that case, Slytherin’s annihilation of you yesterday gives them a point lead of five hundred and forty over you. That does make your likelihood of winning the Cup incredibly slim, I’m afraid. Less than thirteen percent. Charlie’s team would need to beat us with a margin of two hundred and sixty just to put them on an even keel with Slytherin going into the final, and then they’d have to not fall foul of Slytherin’s… well, fouls.”

“True,” said Andre. “Unless…”

Charlie’s red eyebrows furrowed. “Unless?”

“Well, I heard that a good strategy was right up Murphy’s alley.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

That was exactly what Artemis, who had paused to listen to the conversation, wanted to know. Apparently, Tonks was just as curious as she was, because she linked arms with Artemis and steered her over towards the boys.

“Wotcher, lads,” she said, plonking herself down next to Charlie and squashing his chin between her thumb and forefinger by way of greeting. “What’s this? Quidditch strategising, are we?”

“Yes, actually,” said Andre. He pouted slightly. “Although this is a meeting for captains, so-”

“That’s a shame, Andre, because this table is looking rather male dominated.”

“Well, now it’s looking rather Hufflepuff dominated.”

But Tonks was not going to give up that easily. “I just think you need to have more diversity in the group.”

“I think we’re already pretty diverse,” Andre replied. “Charlie’s poor, I’m black and gay, and Murphy is in a wheelchair.”

“Precisely. If there’s going to be a strategy, he’ll have to convey it to one of us in the air, won’t he?” Tonks raised her violet eyebrows and Andre sighed heavily.

“What were you saying, Andre?” Charlie asked diplomatically, and Andre shot a sulky look at both Tonks and Artemis before replying:

“Okay, so we all agree that Slytherin simply can’t be allowed to win the Cup this year, don’t we?”

“Alright.”

“Yeah.”

“Agreed.”

“Yes, but allowing doesn’t come into it,” Murphy shook his head. “It’s Quidditch, there are too many variables over which we have no control. A good strategist allows for these variables, but even then, none of us can have complete control over the outcomes of the games.”

“Can’t we?” Andre raised his eyebrows. “Because I think we could, darling. After all, of the three matches left this season, two of them are being played by our teams alone.”

Artemis frowned. “Wait. You don’t mean…”

“Rigging the matches?” Charlie finished her question for her. “Andre, please tell me you’re joking.”

“Charlie, my love, I’m afraid that I’m being deadly serious.”

“But that’s cheating!”

“So what? It’s no less than what Flint and his lot of poorly accessorised Neanderthals have been doing all year,” Andre shrugged. “They want to play dirty, we are all more than capable of that. Some of us more so than others, I expect.” Smirking, his gaze drifted down to the knees of Artemis’ jeans, still ripped and grass-stained from her tussle with the Whomping Willow the day before. “Artemis, darling, I don’t even want to know what you’ve been up to recently.”

Artemis scowled at him, and he winked at her theatrically. Charlie cleared his throat loudly and the attention turned back to him.

“Andre, we can’t rig matches,” he said shortly. “Cheating like that, it’s just stooping to their level.”

“Okay, I see what you’re trying to say, but hear me out. Slytherin have cheated their way to a win in every single game this season. And they’ve hurt players in the process. Poor Abigail is going to have a black eye for weeks after what Flint did to her yesterday, and he’s laughing about it. The boy thinks he’s invincible, and he needs to be taught otherwise. Now, is it not our job as upstanding senior students to teach him that valuable lesson?”

“It still sounds like cheating to me,” muttered Artemis. “Right, Tonks? Tonks?”

But rather than doubtful, Tonks looked tempted.

“I mean, he has a point,” she shrugged. “Normally, I’d say no way, but Marcus is such a prat. Just look at how he was with you at the start of our match, Murphy.” She gave Murphy a sympathetic look, and he inclined his head. “I just think that if we can stop him from getting the satisfaction of winning, it might just wipe that stupid smirk off his face. I’m more concerned about how we do it without getting caught, honestly.”

“Ah, I’m already one step ahead of you there, Dora,” said Andre, looking straight at Murphy. “Thankfully, we have a master statistician in our midst. So, the next match is played by all your lot. We work out the biggest point margin Hufflepuff can beat Gryffindor by to give them a good advantage going into the final without it looking suspicious, and then, after Gryffindor play Slytherin - and hopefully win, as long as their Beaters don’t knock Charlie clean out of the sky-”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, Andre.”

“You’re welcome. Now, after your match against Slytherin, it’s us against you, Murphy. What I’m thinking is that once we know how many points Slytherin will have at the end of the season, you might be able to work out the most statistically plausible way to get enough points in our match to take the Cup from right under Flint’s nose. Sound doable to you?”

“Theoretically speaking, yes,” Murphy said quietly. “I just don’t know how I feel about cheating my way to a win.”

“Well, don’t look at it as cheating, just… making it an even ground,” Andre shrugged and rose from his seat. “Have a little think about it, darlings, and let me know the plan.”

With that, as well as a swish of his scarf, Andre left. Charlie and Tonks soon followed suit, still quietly debating the issue as they walked out of the Great Hall. Murphy, for once, was completely silent, staring thoughtfully at the mug of coffee on the table in front of him.

“You’re not considering this, are you?” Artemis asked him, and he said nothing in response. “Murphy, this is wrong! Think about Orion, and what he’d say about balance and fairness and… I dunno, stars or fate or something.” Murphy laughed, but it was a hollow laugh, and Artemis sighed. “You’re really thinking about doing it, aren’t you?”

“Artemis, you saw the way Flint looked at me before the first match of the season.”

“Yeah, but-”

“People have looked at me that way ever since I can remember. Like they think I’m less than them, just because I’m in this thing,” Murphy gestured to his wheelchair and shook his head. “I’ve always been ‘that wizard in the wheelchair’, and then I got this captaincy and thought that it would be different, but… Now I’m just ‘that captain in the wheelchair’. And I see people looking, I know they all think that I’m not capable, because I can’t ride a broomstick, and I want to prove them wrong. Not just Flint, all of them.”

“I know, and you will. You’re a brilliant captain, even without a broom, because you are so good at numbers and strategies and all the other stuff I’m not clever enough to understand, but you are. You’re really clever, actually.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. You know, the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw.” Artemis shook her head, and Murphy continued, “I asked to be in Hufflepuff instead.”

Artemis frowned. “Why?”

“Because of what Helga Hufflepuff always said: ‘I’ll take the lot, and treat them just the same’. I thought that the chances of me being able to fit in would be higher if I were in Hufflepuff, that I’d be seen as an equal to everyone else for a change. I just wanted to be treated fairly. But life isn’t fair, is it?”

“I guess not,” said Artemis. “But Murphy, rigging Quidditch matches won’t make it any fairer.”

“No. It won’t,” Murphy smiled sadly. “Which is why I won’t do it.”

“You won’t?”

“No. If I’m going to prove that I can be a winning Quidditch Captain, I’m going to win fair and square. It’s not impossible. Nothing is, statistically speaking.”

The following weekend, Artemis and the rest of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team gathered in the changing tents, the sounds of the rest of the school echoing in through the canvas from the stadium outside. Murphy cleared his throat as he wheeled himself inside, and the team picked up their broomsticks to gather around him.

“The match should start in precisely one and a half minutes,” he told them, “so I won’t spend long giving a speech. However, I do want to make sure that you’re all clear on our strategy. I’ve been speaking to Weasley about it, and we’ve both decided that given Slytherin’s latest performances, we want to make this a good, clean game, with no fouls whatsoever from either side. Let’s show them how real sportsmen-“

“And women,” Tonks interjected, waving one hand in the direction of the majority of the team members and inadvertently hitting David Willows in the face.

“And women” - Murphy nodded - “play Quidditch.”

The start of the match was far more sportsperson-ly than that of the last match Artemis had played. Before the game began, Murphy and Charlie shook hands under the watchful gaze of Madam Hooch’s hawklike eyes, each nodding at the other in recognition as they did so.

“Good luck, mate.”

“And to you.”

Murphy went to Madam Hooch’s side and Charlie returned to his position on the starting line-up, ready for the four Quidditch balls to be released. As the Golden Snitch was freed from the box, he cocked one eyebrow at Artemis and shrugged, a small smirk playing on his face. She narrowed her eyes at him and glared stubbornly, and he laughed, immediately rising into the air as the Quaffle was released.

Artemis set off after him, as per the strategy Murphy had given her before the match; Charlie was incredibly good at slipping away out of sight when he wanted to get an advantage on the Snitch, and neither she nor Murphy intended to let him do just that.

Once the the game was in play, it was just as clean as Murphy and Charlie had promised it would be, but that did not meant that the competition wasn’t fierce. If anything, the match was faster paced than any Artemis had ever seen or played in. Barely thirty minutes into the game, goals had been scored and saved by both teams, which seemed incredibly evenly matched.

“Spectacular save there from Hufflepuff Keeper, Amelia Booth,” announced Lee Jordan the commentator. “The score remains twenty to Hufflepuff, ten to Gryffindor.” Amelia threw the Quaffle back onto the pitch and Jordan continued, “Booth passes to Costa, Costa to Haywood, Haywood to Hopper.”

Below, the Hufflepuff Chasers were advancing across the length of the pitch in formation, making small passes between themselves. Artemis watched them for almost a minute before realising that, in doing so, she had stopped marking Charlie, who had taken the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. She swore under her breath as she looked for him, and saw him several yards away from her, hovering metres above her head. She rose up to meet him, and as she did, one of the Hufflepuff Chasers accelerated towards the scoring zone, Quaffle in hand, her curly blonde hair whipping in the wind behind her.

“That’s Hopper of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle again, and she’s flying straight for the Gryffindor goalposts! She shoots, and… YES! Well done, Oliver! I mean, Wood saves the goal, not that I care as an impartial commentator. Gryffindor’s reserve Chaser Angelina Johnson picks up the Quaffle - shame she can’t pick up the hints I’ve been trying to give her all year, but that’s girls for you…”

“Jordan!”

“Sorry, Professor. Anyway, Johnson loses the Quaffle to Beatrice Haywood, what force of nature that girl is. Also a force of nature, however, is Fred Weasley… Or is that George? It’s hard to tell from here. Anyway, a Bludger from one of the Weasleys is sent straight for Haywood, but it looks like Tonks of Hufflepuff is getting ready to- Ooh, that was close!”

Several feet below Artemis, Tonks had entered the fray to beat a Bludger away from Bea Haywood, and in her enthusiasm to do so, almost hit Angelina Johnson with her bat. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Charlie dove down to see what had happened, Artemis instinctively following behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” Tonks was saying to the Gryffindor Chaser, the hand that wasn’t holding her bat pressed to her mouth. “I didn’t hit you, did I?”

The girl shook her head and after a brief discussion with Madam Hooch, it was decided that, as Tonks’ error was clearly accidental and no harm had been done, that no foul had been committed.

“Just be glad that you missed,” said Madam Hooch, with a stern glare at Tonks. “Free pass to Gryffindor.”

“We don’t need a free pass, Madam Hooch. There wasn’t a foul.”

Tonks shook her head. “Nah, Charlie. Have the free pass.”

While Charlie and Tonks were debating with Madam Hooch which team should take possession of the Quaffle once the game restarted, Artemis took the opportunity to scan the pitch for a glimpse of the Golden Snitch. As luck would have it, she caught sight of the tiny glimmer of gold flitting around the opposite side of the pitch. A furtive glance at Charlie confirmed her suspicion that he was too busy to have seen it, but whilst the time out was still in session, she couldn’t fly after the ball. However, as the Quaffle was handed back to Angelina Johnson and Madam Hooch raised her whistle to her lips, Artemis allowed her broom to drift slowly in the direction of the Snitch, ready to begin her chase.

As the match recommenced, Artemis zoned in on the tiny ball, her eyes fixed on the sparkle of gold in the distance as she pushed her broom forward to accelerate. Having drifted away from Charlie during the time out, she was a lot closer to it than he was, but she knew that her advantage wouldn’t last long. As much as she would have hated to admit it to herself or to him, she knew that he was a much better flier than she was.

Sure enough, over the sound of the wind blowing past her ears, she could just about hear Lee Jordan announcing: “Hexley in hot pursuit of the Snitch, but Weasley is gaining on her!”

But though Charlie was the better flier, she had the better broom. And though he had skill on his side, Artemis had the wind on hers; it caught the tail of her broom as she pushed forward to accelerate further and sent her flying faster still, away from Charlie and towards the Snitch.

She might beat him this time, she realised. She might actually beat him.

“Looks like Hexley’s managed to put some more distance between herself and one Weasley, but she’s heading for two more!”

In either side of her peripheral vision, bright red blurs were approaching Artemis, and as they flew closer, she was able to recognise the Weasley twins, both with their Beater’s bats raised.

On her right, Fred swung at a Bludger and it whizzed her way, and she ducked out of its path, leaving it to fly over her head and straight towards George on her left. He swung, too, and the Bludger was sent back in her direction. She swerved away from George’s Bludger, but she had now been delayed in her chase for the Snitch.

“Have you lost something, Artemis?” George called out, as Artemis scanned the pitch once more. But the Snitch was gone. Fred began to laugh, and she glared at him.

And then she saw it. Somehow, the Snitch had managed to fly back towards her without her realising, and was now hovering just by Fred’s ear. She smirked, and flew towards him, once more in pursuit of the ball.

“Stop her, Freddie!”

But it was too late, the twins had sent their Bludger in the opposite direction, and there was nothing Fred could do to stop her, not now that the Snitch was so tantalisingly close, so close she could almost reach out and-

SMACK!

A deafeningly loud noise reverberated around Artemis’ skull, accompanied by a searing pain at the back of her head. Her ears ringing slightly and white dots starting to appear in her vision, Artemis raised her hands to the spot from which the pain was radiating, and felt that her hair was damp. She pulled her hands away and looked down at her now red palms, which were starting to look fuzzy.

“Huh,” she said, as she slid sideways off her broom and fell down into a world that had suddenly turned black.

The first thing Artemis saw was a deep red light. Then she heard the voices, lots of them, overlapping with each other and with the quiet ringing noise that echoed between her ears. She frowned, and after feeling her eyebrows move, opened her eyelids to reveal a shadowy figure of a person standing over her, their face obscured by the blinding light behind them. She blinked, and another shadow appeared, and then another.

“Okay, she’s awake,” said a voice - Chiara’s voice. “Everyone give her some air, please.” The shadows moved away, and Artemis attempted to push herself up to a seated position, but a hand pressed on her shoulder, and Chiara’s voice told her, “Don’t get up. Just stay there and get your bearings, while I look at your head.”

Artemis nodded - it hurt to nod - and propped herself up onto her elbows to see what was going on around her. The rest of Quidditch players had landed their brooms, and were gathered around the pitch nearby, with Tonks and Bea Haywood at Artemis’ side, and Charlie and the Weasley twins deep in a loud and obviously heated conversation with Madam Hooch and Murphy.

“You’ve taken a really nasty knock here, Artemis,” Chiara told her.

“A Bludger?”

“Not quite,” Tonks muttered darkly, holding up a large wooden bat almost identical to her own. “Turns out the twins were so inspired by my accidental foul, they decided to give it a go themselves.”

Said twins were rushing over to Artemis, with Charlie and Madam Hooch continuing their conversation as they followed behind. Charlie was still almost shouting - or perhaps his voice just sounded louder because of how badly her head hurt - despite the fact that the twins were now at her side apologising profusely.

“We’re both really sorry, Artemis. Are you okay?” one of them asked, looking less anxious after Chiara nodded. Behind him, Charlie’s face was still tense.

“No thanks to you and your bat,” he said, in a voice that was laced with barely disguised fury.

“Hey! It wasn’t my bat, it was Fred’s. Honestly, you call yourself our brother…”

“We can’t delay the rest of the match forever,” said Madam Hooch impatiently. “Poppy, is she fit to…” Her voice tailed off and she did a double take at Chiara before asking, “Miss Lobosca, where is Madam Pomfrey?”

“She’s had to go and treat a student who’s been had a nasty run-in the Whomping Willow,” Chiara told her. “She asked me to take over here.”

“Right. Well, do you think Hexley fit to play?”

“I don’t think-”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Artemis, sitting bolt upright and ignoring the way the world began to spin around her as she did so. “I can keep playing.”

Chiara sighed. “Artemis, I think you need to sit this one out. You have a concussion.”

“No. No, I want to play,” Artemis insisted, and the small crowd around her exchanged looks of doubt. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. And Fred and George have both apologised, so it’s all good.”

She gestured at the twins, who frowned in perfect unison. No one said anything for a moment, until Charlie cleared his throat.

“Uh, Artemis… That’s just George,” he said, stepping sideways to reveal another twin behind him. “Fred’s over here.”

It was strange, but now that Charlie mentioned it, there were two of everyone nearby: two Chiaras, two Tonkses, two Murphys, two Madam Hooches, and two of each of Professors McGonagall and Sprout, who had just arrived at the scene.

“Is everything under control here?”

“Certainly, Minerva. We were just ascertaining whether Miss Hexley was in a fit state to continue playing. As it happens, she is not.”

“I am,” Artemis protested, clambering up to her feet and swaying slightly, earning herself a fresh round of sceptical stares. “I am. Right, Chiara? Tonks? Murphy?” When none of them agreed, she turned to the person she knew would back her up. “Charlie?”

But even Charlie wasn’t on her side today, because he shrugged and shook his head.

“You’re concussed, Artie. I’m sorry.”

Furious, Artemis’ jaw dropped open, and though she tried to protest, it was no use, for everyone had already started to speak over her and she was feeling dizzy again.

“There we have it,” said Madam Hooch. “Let’s get back to business, without Hexley.”

“And without Fred and George,” Charlie added, and all eyes turned to him, with the twins protesting in overlapping voices.

“What?”

“You can’t send us off!”

“We’re family!”

“It’s Quidditch!”

“They have a point, Weasley. Sending uninjured players off the pitch is not in the rules.”

“I don’t care, McNully. You and I agreed we’d have a clean match, and I told my team as much. If they don’t want to listen to my instructions, I don’t want them on my pitch.”

Professor McGonagall tutted. “Really, Weasley. I don’t think that’s quite necessary.”

“But I do,” Charlie replied shortly. “And with all due respect, Professor, I’m the Captain of this team, not you.”

With that, he mounted his broomstick and took to the sky, leaving the others in a baffled silence that was broken by the sound of Tonks’ low whistle.

“Well, Bludger me.”

Artemis was escorted directly to the Hospital Wing, unable even to watch the rest of the match, though why she couldn’t have waited for the game to finish before she left, she wasn’t sure. Madam Pomfrey was too busy attending to her other patient to do anything but occasionally glance at Artemis and make sure that she was still breathing, and was still preoccupied when the rest of the school returned from the pitch and the sound of hundreds of footsteps echoed into the hospital from the corridors outside.

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey being so busy meant that Chiara, Tonks, and Penny were able to sneak into the Hospital Wing without her noticing, their pockets filled with sweets, and told her about the remainder of the match in hushed voices.

“Well, Charlie obviously caught the Snitch-”

“Of course he did,” Artemis muttered with a roll of her eyes.

“- but, because Gryffindor had no Beaters to stop them, the Hufflepuff Chasers did manage to score several goals before that,” Penny continued, smiling proudly. “Bea scored a hat-trick, you know.”

“Good for her.”

“It means that even though Gryffindor won, the difference between the scores wasn’t that big,” Tonks said, popping a piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum into her mouth. “Murphy said that if Slytherin and Gryffindor end up fairly evenly matched and we do well against Ravenclaw, we still have a decent shot at the Cup, at least.”

Artemis nodded, but it wasn’t the Cup that she was annoyed about. Before she could say anything, however, the doors to the Hospital Wing opened once more, and the girls were joined by Charlie Weasley and Jae Kim.

“Wotcher, lads. What brings you here?”

“I wanted to make sure my idiot brothers hadn’t done too much damage,” said Charlie, with smile that was almost a grimace.

“And you, Jae?”

“Huh? Oh, I just thought I’d come and see how Hex is doing, you know,” Jae shuffled over and peered at the back of Artemis’ head. “Hm. Looks like you’ve been pretty well patched up. Well done, Chiara. Good job. Very impressive.”

His hand flinched as if he were about to give Chiara a thumbs up, but hastily stuffed both fists into his pockets as the others stared at him.

“Right,” Chiara blinked. “Thank you, Jae.”

“You’re welcome. Any time.”

Jae cleared his throat, and Charlie shook his head at him. Judging by the awkward silence, Artemis was not the only one who didn’t know what to say.

“So, anyway…”

“What is this?” a sharp voice echoed through the Hospital Wing as Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind a curtain that was closed around one of the beds. “This isn’t visiting hours. All of you, out!” Reluctantly, Artemis’ friends filed out of the hospital. All except one. “You too, Mr Weasley.”

“Oh, I’m not visiting. I’m injured.”

“You don’t look injured to me.”

Charlie held up his right hand and grimaced. “I think it might be a repetitive strain injury. Seeker’s hand, you know?”

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “Well, you’ll just have to wait. I’m dealing with a serious Herbology-related incident at the moment.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Charlie shrugged, and once Madam Pomfrey was safely back behind the curtain, lowered his voice to tell Artemis, “I don’t actually have Seeker’s hand.”

“I know.”

“I don’t even know if Seeker’s hand is a real thing.”

“Not in the hand you don’t use to catch Snitches with, it isn’t,” Artemis muttered, glaring at Charlie’s left hand. “I nearly caught that one today. I would’ve had it if it weren’t for Fred.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am. Really sorry. I actually brought you something to make up for it,” Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a walnut-sized golden ball, which he held between his thumb and forefinger, smiling. “See? It’s the Snitch. They can only use them for a game once, so McGonagall said I could keep it. I thought you might want it.”

Artemis pouted.

“I don’t want your pity Snitch,” she said, her haughty expression giving way when she saw the disappointed look in Charlie’s eyes. She sighed heavily and threw herself backwards, trying her hardest not to wince as her head hit the pillow. “I just… I’ve never gotten to play against you in a proper match, only in fun games before. And every time, you’ve won. This was the first time I would have been able to beat you, and it was the last time we’ll ever get to play against each other, so I won’t get another chance.”

“Of course you will,” Charlie said, his eyebrows furrowing.

“No, because we’re all leaving Hogwarts, aren’t we? We’re going to go off and do our own things, and we won’t be all together here anymore.”

“I suppose not. But that doesn’t mean that we won’t be friends anymore, or that none of us will ever see each other again.”

“It doesn’t?”

“I mean, you’re not getting rid of me that easily, that’s for sure,” said Charlie, half-smiling. “He held the Snitch out to her once more. “Go on. Take the pity Snitch.” When Artemis hesitated, he added, “Take it, and after exams are done we can release it and race for it. Loser buys dinner once we’ve left Hogwarts, deal?”

“Fine. Deal,” Artemis said, taking the Snitch from Charlie’s outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Charlie sighed. “Look, I know it feels like everything is ending. It feels that way for me too, but to you it’s worse, because here… Well, Hogwarts is like a home to you, isn’t it?” Artemis said nothing, just turned the Snitch over in her fingers. “I’m not saying it to upset you, I just… I’m trying to say that you’re not going to lose anything worth losing. Not a home, not a family. Alright?”

It took Artemis a second to reply, but she nodded her head and whispered, “Yeah. Alright.”

“Good.” For a moment, Charlie looked like he might hug her, but instead he shrugged and looked over his shoulder at the curtain behind which Madam Pomfrey had disappeared before adding, “Right. I should go before Madam Pomfrey comes back from treating whoever it was that got Whomped earlier and realises there’s nothing wrong with my hand.”

Artemis froze. “What?”

“There’s nothing actually wrong with-”

“No, I mean… Someone got Whomped today?”

“Yeah, Chiara mentioned it during the time-out. I’m guessing that’s what Madam Pomfrey meant by the ‘serious Herbology-related incident’.”

“Who was it?”

“I dunno, I was on the pitch,” Charlie frowned. “Why?”

Artemis opened her mouth to answer his question, but shut it again as Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind the curtain and walked across the Hospital Wing to her office. She shook her head.

“It’s not important. I can tell you later,” she said. When Charlie gave her a quizzical look, she nodded her head at the door. “Quickly, before Madam Pomfrey gets back.”

Charlie still looked as if he wanted to know more, but he made his escape while he could. Once he was gone, Artemis glanced at Madam Pomfrey’s door before padding across to the bed with the closed curtains and pulling them open. The moment she did, Artemis’ mouth fell open.

“It was you.”

#artemis hexley #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #hphm #the hexley saga #charlie weasley #murphy mcnully #andre egwu #penny haywood #nymphadora tonks #chiara lobosca #jae kim #david willows #ellie hopper #amelia booth #beatrice haywood #fred weasley #george weasley

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mashas-rotting · 6 months

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The Slytherin Princess

Chapter 6

Chapter warnings: Blood as always, Injury, Almost dying, Tom has feelings (kinda)

As per the recent norm, Tom was waiting for you after class. His dark eyes bore into yours making you shift feeling naked. "What?" You tried to snap, but it came out weakly. "Nothing." He says after a moment. Then he shakes his head then looks away.

"Avery should be there today. I imagine your rematch will go no differently." Tom walks towards the training grounds as he speaks. "If you have no hope for him, why do this at all?" You ask keeping pace beside him. "He will learn. Once he can control his emotions he'll be a great wizard. They all will, but he has far too much pride." Tom replies. "Is that why you want him to duel a 'mudblood'? Have him knocked down by someone he considers weaker and lesser to hurt his pride?" Tom smirks at this, his eyes flicker to yours. "Yes, That's definitely part of it. I meant what I said the first day though, none of them have been able to hold their own against me the way you have. Until they can, you will train them."

Once you get to the training field Lestrange volunteers to go first; stepping forward when the rest of the group kept their distance. "I'd rather get my ass handed to me now and use the rest of the time to figure out what went wrong than have to limp back immediately after." He laughs. "I don't know I think you might have me this time." You reply kindly. The both of you know you're lying. Wands at the ready, Bow, Pace, You turn to attack and-…

Tom

Tom found himself smiling with his arms crossed at Y/n's interaction with Lestrange. It was good for her to both embrace and be embraced by other pure bloods, even if they didn't know her status. Lestrange had always been smart, he probably sensed she was different. And he was always the most talented in the group at dueling, Tom suspected he would be the first to knock her on her ass. Not anytime soon of course, but one day. With any luck, they all would come out of this as good as Y/n.

He watched as the two of them as they got in position. "Bombarda!" An explosion threw Y/n back and slammed her into a tree. Blood pooled around her limp frail looking body on the ground; she must have thrown into a branch. Avery stood defiant and proud to the side sporting a shit eating grin. "Crucio!" Tom heard himself cast the spell. Avery collapsed screaming. Good. Tom ran to Y/n. 'She can't die like this." His thoughts repeated over and over. "Help her!" he screamed commanding his followers. As he held her, parts of her skin blistered under his hands, a gaping wound poured blood from her back. His ears were ringing and it felt as though everything was happening in slow motion. No one was moving fast enough.

Y/n was taken to the infirmary. She was alive. Avery was taken… somewhere else. He was also alive. For now at least. Y/n had lost a lot of blood and had second and third degree burns on her chest and arms, perdominately on the right side. Tom had told the nurse they had been searching for rare herbs in the forbidden forest to impress slughorn with, when they were attacked by someone they didn't recognize. Tom had been chewed out and reminded that the forbidden forest was in fact, forbidden. 50 points were taken from Slytherin. That didn't matter. And Tom had to meet with the head master in the morning. Still, Tom refused to leave Y/n's side all day and had even snuck out passed curfew to sit beside her at night.

Tom experienced something he had not done since he was a boy at the orphanage. Tom Marvolo Riddle, cried. He didn't mean to, he didn't even realize it was going to happen. Silently, hot tears streamed down his face as he watched Y/n sleep. His hand reached up and touched them. Confusing thing to do. Pointless. Tears don't solve anything. And there were problems that needed to be delt with. Avery. He needed to be delt with. But Tom found he couldn't think straight so he decided to go to the restricted section to read up on Y/n's family. Maybe He'd find something to help her there.

As he rose to leave the moonlight coming in from the window shown on Y/n's wrist, stopping him in his tracks. 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' He almost laughed. Stupid girl. He had wondered what is was Y/n wrote with the quill. Now he knew. The nurse must have thought we were a couple messing around with forbidden magic and she accidentally got injured. Tom frowned, not liking how close that was to the truth. He would have to erase the memory of her wrist from any attending in the morning.

#fanfiction #reader insert #tom riddle #harry potter #Tom has feelings #Almost #injury #awww Tom cares #Maybe #Avery is a shit #I dont hate him I just needed a bad guy

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twsted-seas · 2 years

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My turn to comment on the “Savanclaw is so brutal and violent and etc. (but you might just be racist!)” trope/discussion.

Yeah, you’re probably looking through a racist lens if you agree with that. Even if you don’t think you are. Western society comparing people of color to animals for hundreds of years and much of eastern society doing the same thing to black people etc. does that to you.

So, Savanaclaw roughed up the protag crew during a sports match. Gasp.

You know damn well Riddle was a hair breadth away from actually beheading people the whole damn time.

Floyd and Jade exist. I don’t know what more you want from me.

Jamil yeeted the crew to the other end of a dimension. He was probably one wrong word away from poisoning everyone or just straight up stabbing them if his inferiority complex didn’t keep getting in the way.

Pomefiore would literally disembowel someone and still avoid getting blood on them (they’d know how to remove it if it did happen, though.) They literally pick their leader based on who makes the most deadly poison. Again, I don’t know what you want from me here. Just because it’s more cloak and dagger than knuckle sandwich doesn’t make it any less violent.

STYX. The end of that arc. Yeah. Also, Ortho being one hundred percent ready at all times to throw down, blackmail, extort, and unleash heavy artillery whenever he feels necessary.

Diasomnia is likely a recovering military dictatorship monarchy and has a bloody history of warfare, whether or not Malleus approves of war. Also, Lilia being a continual instigator of violence and overblots, regardless of how much I love the chaotic bastard.

Comparatively, being a bit rough in a contact sports match and sabotaging other teams via minor injuries is… not that bad. Welcome to high school.

#mod rambles #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst savannaclaw #savannaclaw

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enkisstories · 7 months

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Hiawatha taught Hank a smattering of Iroquois and helped him improve his French, but first and foremost taught the envoy various verbal and non-verbal codes to the effect of "No, I do not intend to join the army as tactician, bugger off!".

Just when Hank was about to slip into a depressive episode from his mission being a failure, Hiawatha offered to teach him her knowledge. So next thing Hank was out and about learning everything about the lay of the land, its people, animals and plants.

Hank couldn't bring the hermit back to civilisation, but he damn well could carry home that one's knowledge! And so the newcomer to New England learned more about his new homeland over the course of one summer, than many of his fellow settlers had in all the years they were living here already.

Hiawatha: “You told me how you joined the army to get away from bounty hunting, but you never explained why you started as a bloodhound in the first place...”

Hank: “I always had that tendency to sulk, and after series of disappointments I sort of... wrote off humanity. At this point people’s motivations and actions became just riddles to solve to me. Mysteries to crack. I think I never viewed my targets as persons. Getting into their minds and then being just one step ahead was fun in addition to being easy money.”

Hiawatha: “I see.”

Hank: "What about you? If you couldn't be a hermit anymore, say, from old age or injury... what profession would you like to pursue then?"

Hiawatha: "Clothes maker! (*) As a hermit I live without the security a community offers. I guess that makes me naturally disposed towards paying attention to people’s body language, to quickly identify potential threats? Huh! Now that I’ve said that, I realize we’re similar in this regard. People, to me, too, seem to be objects of study to an unhealthy degree."

Hank: “So you didn’t go into hiding to escape unwarranted recruitment offers? Yours was a solitary lifestyle beforehand already?”

Hiawatha: “Yes.”

Hank: “That’s a load off my mind.”

There came a particularly hot day, that made both of them dizzy... and they were the only humans around... and so one thing let to another. Taken by surprise at first, Hiawatha immediately turned to tables by grabbing Hank and locking him in a lover’s embrace.

(*)... So this takes some explaining again. I had Hank encourage Hiawatha to take her dream job, and her speech bubble returned a computer icon. I have two cc computers, one disguised as crystal ball and another one disguised as seweing machine. So many sims who would normally become programmers or e-sports competitiors will in historic settings feel a desire to become tailors.

#sims4 detroit1760 #sims4 #sims 4 #simblr

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freifraufischer · 2 years

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The above timeline was posted today by someone on reddit for a Simone Biles potential return for Paris. I want to talk a bit about these kinds of “Simone waltz back into the sport” narratives for a bit.

Let’s start with a few basic facts. Elite gymnastics is really really hard and requires intense training. Simone Biles is incredibly talented but she didn’t do the amazing things she did with raw talent she did it with an incredible amount of work. “She’s still doing cardio” is not gymnastics conditioning. She took a break of just over a year after Rio and the first thing she talked about when she came back was how out of shape she was (out of shape for you and me and normal people). And now she has another quad and another five years on her body (as well as living in pain every day according to her own interviews in 2021).

When Aly Raisman came back after London she had to do a year of conditioning before she started doing serious gymnastics again.

[I’m not going to blame the OP for the summer wedding idea, apparently Simone has talked about a summer wedding and honeymoon which seems wild to me given that she’s marrying an NFL player and training camps for the NFL start in July.]

Let’s start picking apart this little fan fiction more seriously with the “skip 2023 Nationals, go to Worlds” bit.

You can’t do that. If you are injured or have some emergency (looking at you British gymnastics and the Downie’s having a death in the family) you can petition. It does, by the way, require a doctors note explaining the injury. You can’t do it because you just don’t feel like going through the qualification stages. People want USAG to be more fair and transparent. But not if it’s the person they’re wanting to usher through the process ahead of everyone else.

Now over in reality land where there are selection procedures and qualification since she doesn’t go to to 2023 Worlds without doing 2023 Nationals she also now has to qualify for 2024 Nationals which means she has to have scores at a NT camp sometime in the winter or spring. Which yeah she can probably get. But that means she has to have those routines ready a lot sooner than “yeah she’ll be adding bars at Olympic Trials”. Even Nastia Liukin’s incredibly ill considered attempt at a come back involved showing the events she intended to do at Nationals.

But maybe unlike our valiant OP you ask what if she does go to 2023 US Nationals. I just want to point out that would be within a week or two of getting back from her honeymoon. This sounds like we’re landing in “Nastia Liukin tries to do bars at Nationals in 2012 having trained for a week and a half” territory.

Speaking of Nastia. Let’s talk about comebacks. They’re hard. And no American has ever done it by coming back in the Olympic Year. In fact none have done it with less than two years of full time competition. You may think many things about Tim Daggett the commentator but he competed the entire 1988 quad (including a horrific injury) and couldn’t make it to the last step because he had too much pain.

Shannon Miller tried to come back in 2000, and they could perhaps have used her given the state of things in 2000. She was pushed through to trials but just didn’t have the time to come back properly.

Dominique Moceanu competed most of the Sydney quad and through she was injured in the end she wasn’t trying to come back from a long break.

Shawn Johnson did come back to elte competition in 2011 after a knee injury but ended up retiring in 2012 she says after the realization that Marta was going to break her if she stayed.

Nastia Liukin took three years off and then attempted to return to elite in the 2012 where she was passed along through the qualification process with substandard mistake riddled routines.

Mykayla Skinner tried to come back to elite after the 2019 NCAA season with the intent of taking a year to train for the Olympics. She ended up the alternate on the 2019 Worlds Team and it turned out she needed the extra year that the pandemic gave her.

Being an Olympian is hard. Doing what Simone Biles did is hard. It’s hard even for her no matter how many times the commentators said “its’ so easy for her.” I actually find it incredibly disrespectful of fans to act like she didn’t need to work to win. And that’s what is being said when people say she could come back in 2024 (as the OP of that time line suggested at another point).

And that’s not even touching public pressure, the media, the twisties (which at least as of the end of the tour last year she was still experiencing), and how much elite gymnastics has taken from her.

I often hear people talk about how she and her coaches haven’t closed the door. The standard reply to that is Olympic athletes commercial value sinks as soon as they officially retire so they often wait as long as possible before announcing retirement. Shawn Johnson actually had to repay sponsors when she retired before the Olympic trials in 2012. And it’s not like Simone is an uncontroversial figure. I don’t like the people who insult her. I think they’re idiots. Proctor and Gamble may even think their idiots. But they’d still like to sell those idiots dishwasher soap. Simone has done amazing things to raise awareness for mental health, but those kinds of efforts don’t pay as much as doing a Tide commercial.

All of that said... even though I think she’s done (and that’s fine), I think there is a small chance that she tries to make a come back. That’s what lead Nastia Liukin to her incredibly last minute attempt to prove she could still make it. But I want to make it exceedingly clear. If she started today it would be a tight timeline to make it to Paris.

#gymnastics

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fatal-iistic · 1 year

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Ties That Bind (Pt. 1)

Summary: Blair Moore is a war machine, recruited by John Price as part of special operative Task Force 141. What she doesn’t expect in her second chance at serving her country and the greater good is someone to break down the walls she’s built.

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F!Original Character

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: Swearing, War, Civilian/Child death, Mentions of gore/injury, honestly war just sucks

March 2nd, 2020

An airfield outside of Kutaisi, Georgia

There's seldom situations where Blair Moore catches herself with second thoughts.

But standing across the globe from her home in Boston, sporting an uniform on a foreign military's airbase begins to rouse an inkling of doubt in the woman's gut.

It's a brisk spring day in the Northern foothills of Imereti. The land is ancient. Blair studies the rolling hills of the Georgian countryside, wondering if these were the hills once trekked upon by Jason and his Argonauts in search of the Golden Fleece. Or were these hills once the site of battles choreographed by the ancient Romans and Persians as they sought to commandeer every furlong of this green earth.

Georgia's history in the past century, alone, is riddled with the Russian Revolution and the subsequent fall of the Soviet Union. Not to mention persistent tensions in the last decade. Even last year, with Barkov's decades-long tyranny in the Middle East and subsequent battle waged in his warehouse in Borjomi marks more demerits on Georgia's timeline.

And now another leader of terror seems to find his way into the sanctity of this battle-torn country.

Free time is cherishable for most, but dreaded by Blair. She fills the vacancy with a stroll around the outskirts of the base. With sleeves and direct sunlight, the early afternoon is enjoyable. Taking in the sights of the rolling hills of Georgian geography, Blair almost relinquishes the cumbersome burden of duty and the implications of the mission at hand.

A cool breeze burrows through Blair's layers. She hunkers her chin closer to her chest, slipping her nose under the collar of her uniform to contain her warmth. Mentally, she reminds herself to put on another layer before they depart the Kutaisi base and head seventy kilometers north.

It really is too late to back out, Blair, a voice remarks in her head. More exasperatedly it adds, Damn you, Kate and John, for convincing me back into this 'greater good' scheme.

She glances down at her watch, frowning. News reached that the flight of SAS Marines from the United Kingdom had been delayed due to technical problems. But as the time elapses and now her comrades are a full sixty minutes late, Blair feels the simmer of anxiety burrow deep within her gut.

The longer she waits, the more reasons she accumulates as to how stupid she was. The sooner they reach Tsari, the sooner they can apprehend Al-Asad.

I could've truly adopted civilian life. I was so close.

Feet keep pacing her around the base, until a low hum rings in Blair's ears. She directs her eyes to the western skyline, spotting a small dot traveling from the horizon. She doesn't need a closer observation to know it's a plane inbound for this small airstrip. And aboard is her colleagues. More specifically, Sergeant John Mactavish.

During her CIA days, it was asinine to leave things up to mystery. Every aspect of everything needed to be drawn into the light, mulled over until every last detail was eviscerated from the system. The devil was in the details. Miiss one factor, and the entire chemistry could implode. 141 is different, so Blair tells herself. Captain Price isn’t the CIA; he isn’t the American justice system. While her roles seem to parallel, Blair lies that it’s a different world, a different life (the skeletons in her closet from her CIA ops could remain lodged in their hiding place behind a big wooden door, deadbolted shut).

Captain Price trusts Sergeant Mactavish, so Blair leaves it at that. The rest would come into form by itself. No background checks. No picking apart his records before even seeing him in the flesh.

The transport lands and taxis.

Blair immediately makes a line for the plane as the passengers exit. On sight alone, the woman can pick the sergeant from the lower-ranked soldiers. The sides of his head shaved (Blair doesn't recall mohawks being back in style, but she forces that criticism from her mind). He's a brute of a man, yet his demeanor sings something entirely different; he's laid-back, friendly, even charming if Blair gives herself the allowance to regard it.

"Sergeant Mactavish?" She questions, arching an eyebrow.

"Reporting." His accent is thick. It's a voice that would make any woman in her right mind swoon, but Blair shovels that admiration out of the way and sticks strictly to business.

"Moore. Blair. Call me Rogue."

"Call me Soap." He smiles broadly.

There's a story behind every moniker. Blair flashes Soap a bemused glance before focusing on the terrain before her, hastily leading the sergeant. They both walk along the airstrip toward the main building.

What the hell kind of name is Soap? She wonders but anchors her attention back to the objective at hand.

"Commander Beridze of the Georgian Defence Forces will join us soon for a full brief. It looks like we're headed toward the mountains,” Blair informs.

Stepping out of the wind and into the admin building, Blair leads Soap to the briefing room.

"What do you know about the village?" Soap queries, his eyes fixated on the view from the conference room's windows.

“Tsari?”

“That’s where we’re headin’, no?”

The woman nods, offering a shrug in response to his previous question. "Not much. It's a pit stop for people heading to the mountains. A pretty quiet place from what I can tell – a perfect place to hunker down if you're an internationally wanted terrorist.” By instinct, her spine straightens, and she lifts her chin as if reporting to a senior officer. Everything about her screams formality and professionalism. It's a habit beaten into her since her Army days, a feature she can't corrode out of her system. Soap seems indifferent, lax to almost a flaw.

"Damn shame they come to places like this," Soap comments, shoulders anchoring. "The terrorists."

Lips curve into a deepened frown. "Hiding in plain sight can be pretty treacherous. Sometimes even the bad guys want peace and quiet," Blair offers perspective. She'd chased dozens of "bad guys" in various reaches of the earth. Through bustling, civilian-laden streets. Into remote terrains. They picked their poison, and unfortunately, it was never consistent.

"Captain Price says ya were Green Berets and CIA," Soap mentions after a contemplative pause. Cold blue eyes rest upon Blair, making her shift a bit.

"Were," she confirms. The word feels like rusted iron on her tongue. There had once been a time when Lieutenant Blair Moore, an American hero and Patriot, wore her status with pride. She’d garnered numerous accolades, things that became nothing more than items consuming space in her closet back at home. She’d met with some of the highest-ranking officials in numerous countries – hell, even slept with them.

And now? Blair isn’t quite sure where she fits on the status quo.

She’s lost just about every credential and honor worth a damn. The Army wouldn’t take her back, and the CIA had been the ones to part ways. The only reason Blair has the liberty she does now is because of Kate Laswell and the reality is, John Price had been the catalyst for that orchestration.

Decommissioned dogs don’t typically make it out of the pound.

The last two years prior were spent floating from country to country. Wherever Kilito or his aide-de-camp, Liidia, sent her. Despite her skills, Blair was treated like a lesser contractor than some of Kilito’s seniors, despite the obvious skill gap. So she’d left Jasuri Company, and found an apartment in Boston. She’d figure out a new life. A civilian life. She’d join a running club, maybe finally run the Boston Marathon as she’d planned on years prior.

No more military. No more contracting. No more guns, covert affairs, and bloodshed on a daily.

Within two months, Kate and John found her. You’ll die as you lived, Blair Moore – hadn’t that been something her father had reckoned years ago?

(Maybe she should’ve said no.)

Shaking off the webs in her brain, Blair grounds herself back in reality. Her mouth feels parched at the anticipation of answering the lingering question – why did you leave it all?

Not of my own volition.

Would the fact make Soap trust her less?

"Always dreamed of bein' James Bond as a wee lad," Soap chuckles to himself, "as sharp as I look inna suit and tie, I'll keep my fatigues."

He doesn't even entertain the idea of delving into Blair's past turmoil and begging the question of her reconciliation at John Price's hands.

Blair snorts, more relieved that anything. "I did more wadin' through dust and mud or showin' up to grimy bars than strutting into upscale soirees."

"Ah, yer breaking my heart, lieutenant. A dream deferred," Soap complains, dramatically placing a hand over his left chest.

She smiles sympathetically. Shaking her head, stray strands of gold hair tickle pink-touched cheeks. He's humorous and exudes an aura of respite. It's like a breath of crisp air in the stale heat of military formalities and concise mission objections.

Pausing to gaze up at Soap, she finds that he's orbited closer to the broad window exposing the hilly terrain outside. She steps around the conference table to stand parallel to the sergeant, bracing her breath in his presence as if the moment is frail.

Why did she feel like she was handling a rigged explosive? Her life had been a grandeur charade around people – around her father, around her peers, around her superiors, around drug lords, mafia kings, and leaders of organized terror. But she falters beside Soap, questioning what voodoo is being implemented to cause her to waver.

Vigorously shoveling those thoughts aside, Blair tries to fill the spaces in between with tedious small talk. Anything to silence the badgering thoughts.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" Blair prompts.

Soap chuckles, realizing how much time elapses in his enrapture with the Georgian landscape. "Definitely different from home," he agrees with a nod.

"We're not in Kansas anymore," Blair murmurs. She shoots a glance at Soap. "Wizard of Oz–"

"Dorothy and Toto," Soap interjects. He laughs, warm, genuine, a rumbling baritone that spikes a sensation of warmth in Blair's system. "It's not some American secret. I saw it as a kid. The monkeys scared me."

Blair's nose wrinkles as a little laugh surpass her. A hue of pink flushes into her cheeks. "I'm sorry…that was a dumb assumption…"

"No offense taken, lieutenant," Soap responds. A wry smile creases his lips.

The door of the conference room swings open, shocking both soldiers from their lighthearted exchange. A man dressed in his tailored, unwrinkled military uniform steps in with three others. Both Soap and Blair salute the leading officer, the man Blair recognized from the pictures as Commander Beridze.

"Lieutenant, Sergeant," he greets.

"Sir," both Soap and Blair chorus. Reflexively.

One of Beridze's lackeys seats himself and pulls open a laptop. Within moments, all hands are situating themselves at the table.

Along the wall, the projection screen boots to life. They make haste in covering the mission brief, picking apart the details of the foothill village of Tsari and Al-Asad's confirmed presence in the last forty-eight hours. SAS Marines would cover the bulk of the forces sent in, with a small squad of Georgian soldiers to provide navigation and liaison between them and the civilians.

Law enforcement would escort the SAS to the presumed holding place of al-Asad, the Marines would take it from there. Blair watches the brief unfold with a brewing boil in her gut. Terrorists always found the most obscure places or the most civilian-friendly places. Both were just as horrible to sweep.

As the brief wraps up, Blair promptly asks the one unanswered question. "Should we or should we not be prepared to sustain hostile civilian casualties, General?" Blair intterogates, her jaw clenching.

"Intel is not confirmed or denied the social sway of Al-Asad and AQ forces, other than it's definitively neutral, and they are giving him refugee," Commander Beridze replies. His words seem rehearsed, as if he’d stood in the mirror this morning with a level gaze and recited this line twenty times over. "We would rate the potential high, though, Lieutenant. The prime minister and the defense General are already aware and prepared for the potential for civilian casualties."

She only nods, but the gloomy expression still festers on her face.

On the outside, every military official and high-up authority leader wants zero casualties and civilian safety. It markets well, empathy. But Blair knows better – they'd accept an entire bloodbath if it were a means to an end if only the people of their nation wouldn't roll under the terrible massacre of themselves. The lower the collateral body count, the easier to pass the operation off to the public as necessary damages.

She doesn't voice her discontent any further. It was all the more reason they had to find al-Asad and bring him in. So that more civilians weren't lodged in the crosshairs between a terrorist and the world's superpowers.

Soap and Blair stride out of the conference room together. Once they're out of earshot of Commander Beridze and his personnel, Blair lets out a low growl.

"High potential, my ass," Blair grumbles.

"Huh?" Soap comes in second fiddle, out of the loop of what riled Blair up.

"That building we're raiding is a residential building, Soap," she breathes, her voice airy with a lilt of defeat. "Commander Beridze conveniently dodged that detail."

"We're walkin' right into people's homes…" Soap states, disappointment saturating his tone.

"Not to mention the entire village," Blair breathes.

They both don't traverse the politics beyond that statement. They're soldiers, first and foremost. They don't get to weigh and balance the semantics, especially for a foreign country. Al-Asad's presence was more burdensome than that of a homegrown civilian. A treacherous classification, damned and doomed as it is, both soldiers had discovered early in their tenures that it wasn't within their allotted estate to question those ethics.

(Do your job. Do it well. Don't ask questions.

Hell, it was a bloody concept Blair had drilled into her cranium by her very own father in the fundamental years of her life.)

They know it, they know it, they know it.

Pavlov'd over the years to accept the circumstance, to relinquish the exposition of human details. Follow orders. For the greater good. Do what has to be done. De Oppresso Liber.

That engineered thought process eclipses the overpowering sentiments of humanity. Soap and Blair share a reserved, somewhat mournful exchange of glances in the hall of base command. A vortex of gloom roams Blair's saxony blue eyes, her rigid professionalism betrayed by atom-sized fringes of humanity and compassion. Neither soldier trespasses to that vicinity in their minds, somehow orbiting back to their rigid formalities as war machines, as soldiers under oath.

There is a lack of real estate to presume over the matter. It’s too far above their pay grade to contemplate morals and fuss over the particularities. Mutely, either soldier accedes to the same determination; the objective has been made clear, and they were here to follow orders. There are soldiers to brief and equipment to put together. They were paid to find Al-Asad, not ponder ethics like Plato or Aristotle.

It's late afternoon when their convoy reaches the village of Tsari. The sun sinks deep into the western horizon, giving them only a few precious hours of daylight remaining. The single law enforcement officer of Tsari leads them to a three-story apartment building just from the center block of town.

Simplicity, Blair notes. She’s sanctioned off and swept buildings a hundred times over. They put men at every exit and storm into the building. Exactly like their brief. They go door to door, sweeping each unit.

Things along the first floor are complacent. Shocked families. Crying babies. Sobbing women. No insurgents. No weapons. No Al-Asad. The scene eerily unearths memories from Blair’s tenure with the Army in the Middle East. She remembers storming homes then, under the Iraqi sun. Women had always navigated towards her, flinging themselves at her pleading out of fear (Private Mikels had shot and killed one that did so, assuming the innocence that he thought the woman was maneuvering to assault and kill Blair. An innocence maintained and preserved by commanding officers). Even in her uniform, nursing an assault rifle in her arms, Blair’s image had been a feeble entity of hope when in pale comparison to her male comrades.

Perhaps that’s why it was best she was the one at the lead bellowing out orders to the civilians.

“Hands up. Cooperate. We are looking for Khaled Al-Asad,” Blair barks in Georgian to the residents. They flinch with the coarseness of her voice, obeying commands with teary eyes and vibrating limbs.

The teams diverge in the stairwell. One to the second floor. Another to the third. Soap goes second, and Blair goes third.

The team breaches the third floor ahead of Blair when shouts and gunfire ring out. A mix of English shock and Arabic threats slice through the tension-deep air. Her heart hurtles into her throat. She charges up the stairwell, rounding the corner to see one of the privates hit the ground from the bullets spraying out one of the units. She sidles against the wall for protection, peaking into the unit during a moment of reprieve to fire several rounds at a man fumbling to reload his weapon.

Silence suspends the atmosphere, disrupted only by the panting breaths of adrenaline-sodden soldiers and the click of magazines being reloaded. Blair holds the oxygen in her lungs, stepping towards the open apartment door. Gun cocked, finger tempted over the hairpin trigger. She manuevers quickly across the threshold to remain in the hall but now has full detail of the room beyond the doorframe. Like owl eyes, Blair studies the area beyond the door. When she determines the room within is safe, she steps defensively into the apartment unit.

Eyes scrutinize every corner, gun pointing quickly to each crevice that she studies. Kicking the door open to the bedroom, Blair takes account of every inch before her muscles relax. Cleared. No tangos.

She strides back towards the hall, stepping hastily over the dead AQ fighter who made his grave on the living room floor. There’s a pool of scarlet forming underneath his mortal wounds, seeping and dripping from his frame. A circular stain mars the dirty off-white carpet of someone’s home. There's a stuffed rabbit a few feet away. A kids' book at the foot of the couch.

Pausing, she nudges the open book with the toe of her boot. It's a Dr. Seuss counting book.

Immediately, Blair can smell the pages of her own Dr. Seuss books while she peruses them while Emilia Moore cleaned the kitchen. Grass with a faint hint of vanilla against the walls of her sinuses. Her mother would sing various learning songs to her daughters, long red hair teasing her light cheeks.

"Red fish, blue fish, buckle my shoe," Emilia would purposely recite improperly, eliciting a giggle from Blair.

"That's not how it goes!" Blair would critique with an amused squeal and a scrunched nose.

Emilia would laugh. A vibrato that still breaks through Blair's conscience, warm like sunlight through an open window. Enveloping like a mother's embrace.

They had all been children. Emilia, even then, mid-twenties, and sold on the dream of a righteous man and a picket fence fantasy. But that picket fence had become a chain link fortress, with a stockpile of guns and ammunition. A home constructed into a fortress. The concept makes bile churn in her gut. Her brain feels like it’s being overpowered by hot static.

These people, the civilians of this little mountain town, live the same volatile reality that Blair had once been indoctrinated into. Lassoed into a reality they hadn't requested.

Reality tastes sour as Blair rips herself from her memories. Her abdomen tightens as she fights nausea crawling through her system.

"Tangos spotted on the third floor," Blair calls into the comm. The report half to refocus her own ambling mind. "Requesting back up."

"You don't say. Gettin' noisy up there, huh Rogue? Sergeant MacTavish remarks over the radio. Her jaw seizes. Annoyance seeped into the fibers of her frame. Not all of them could have an easy time like MacTavish seemed to be having on the second floor.

She turns towards the soldiers.

"Sweep the floor! Move!" Blair commands, signaling the other Marines.

Two Marines approach the second door down the hall, bracing themselves on either side of the doorframe. As one is about to check the doorknob, bullets crack through the door's wood. Either soldier reels back against the wall, avoiding crossfire from the enemies within. Just then, a fuse is lit in the entirety of the third floor. Doors further down the hall burst open, AQ soldiers utilizing the open structures as cover to begin firing savagely and haphazardly at the team of Marines.

Blair ducks into the first unit, leaning out to fire rounds at the soldiers. She fells two of them before having to slink back into cover. Blood roars in her ears. There’s a myriad of shouts in Arabic and English as either side screams commands to one other.

Despite the rampant pace of the situation, time seems to slick by as if trapped in molasses. Suspended above the moving timeline as if in demented levitation. Blair can almost anticipate each flutter of her galloping heart, breaths cautious and planned. Eyes dart from each moving shadow to the next. She reflexively pulls the trigger on each maneuvering enemy.

One, two, buckle my shoe…

Somewhere through the fog of chaos, Blair swears she hears MacTavish announce enemy presence below the second floor. She has no allowance to fret too intensely when she’s already locking teeth with enemies on this floor like rabid animals. MacTavish and his team would have to hold fast with their own objective or wait until the Third Floor Team has cleared out their own set of problems.

Three, four, knock on the door…

The clear, systematic process of clearing each apartment unit manifests. Blair mostly keeps in the hallway, sights trained on unopened doors and the shadows beyond. It's hard to perceive anything above the stomping of combat boots trooping in the emptied units, but Blair keenly tries to pick up the readying of rifles or the unhinging of the doors farther down. Her gut won't subside until every inch of this floor is scrubbed clear of enemies.

Five, six, pick up sticks…

The Marines flood into the units. Unit after unit, the chorus of "clear" denotes an objective met.

Seven, eight, lay them straight…

The gunfire has died down as Blair enters the final unit. It's relatively empty, save some aged furniture and a few toys in the living room. She holds her breath as she sweeps through the suite. Two Marines file in behind her. Blair rounds into the bedroom, rifle rising as she sees the silhouette of a person.

The first thing she perceives is the weapon in their hands. Adrenaline hammers against Blair's senses.

Her eyesight focuses. Immediately she relaxes. It's a boy, no more than eight or nine. Her finger remains trained on her trigger, but she lowers her weapon. The boy wields a shotgun, his little frame trembling.

He's terrified. Clutching the gun like a lifeline. He'd probably been told to shoot anyone who enters, but there was an immense burden of hesitation.

"Do not fire," Blair commands the men behind her. She rocks on the balls of her feet, kneeling to appear less intimidating despite her array of tactical gear.

She's speaking in Georgian, using a calm voice as if trying to steady a wild animal. The boy trembles, hands shaking. He must've impulsively pulled the trigger, but his aim was nowhere pointed near Blair. It strikes the wall across the building, splintering wood. Blair doesn't even flinch, eyes not leaving the boy.

"He's hostile!" One of the other Marines shouts.

"Stand down!" Blair commands, but it's too late. A shot rings out. The boy falls to the ground, a bullet piercing through his chest.

She is at the boy's side instantly, cradling the adolescent with trembling hands. He was dead before he hit the ground. He didn't suffer much, if at all. Blair's head bows, and a sobbing shutter passes through her body. She does her best to mask it, catching what might be the ghost of that sob in her chest.

Nine, ten, begin again…

No more counting games or nursery rhymes. No more bleary-eyed innocence. Both Blair and this boy had laid that concept to rest in the primitive years of their lives. Except Blair had to keep living in this war. Perhaps the boy had been spared by this (the notion molders like a rancid stab wound).

Rage seethes from within Blair's gut as she lowers the boy back onto the floorboards and rises to her feet. She swings around to face the other soldiers. Fingers curl. Jaw fastens like a vice grip.

"Fuck, corporal!" Blair snarls, grabbing him by his collar. She slams him against the wall, the momentum stealing the breath from the shocked soldier. He makes a breathless squeak, eyes wider than the moon. "The fuck was that?"

"He fired at you!" The soldier defends.

"I had the situation managed!"

The other two soldiers scramble, hands wrapping around her shoulders in an attempt to pry Blair off of Cpl. Taylor. She clings to the corporal, still entranced by a fit of rage, managing to throw one elbow into the nose of the private, demanding her to release Taylor. In the squirmish, Blair still has her hands folded around Taylor’s trachea, the man’s fingernails digging into her wrists as he tries to pluck himself free.

The commotion lasts only briefly before Sergeant MacTavish rushes into the room. He shoulders hastily past the bleeding private and the second soldier, wedging himself into the fray between Blair and Cpl. Taylor.

"Hey, hey, hey," Soap intercepts, prying the corporal out of Blair's grasp. "Stand down, both of you!"

"You fuckin' crazy?" Cpl Taylor spits at Blair.

Soap glares at the corporal. "You watch yer language around yer superior, corporal."

"She fuckin' attacked me."

"You disobeyed a direct order," Soap counters.

Blair doesn't waste her energy formulating her rebuttal. She pivots and storms out of the room.

The remainder of the building is swept, the AQ soldiers long dispatched by the time Soap finds time allotted to seek out Blair. She's made herself scarce after the incident with the young Georgian boy, which perhaps is most agreeable considering the Marines seemed less forgiving of her snapped temper than John MacTavish.

Sergeant Allens says he saw her wandering outside shortly after the incident. So outside Soap goes.

It’s evening, and the sun has set as Soap disembarks from the residential building. He needs not search far, finding Blair standing on the lawn across the building parking lot. Her arms are linked above her head, propping her gaze into the sky. Even from afar, she looks fatigued and a touch nauseous.

Maybe she's trying to number the constellations above her. Or maybe she's praying to an entity above, a plea for forgiveness for failing the boy upstairs (though that likelihood was low, as Blair stopped believing in gods and their greater influence after Carl Moore). Soap approaches evidently, dragging his boots all the ground so that Blair could interpret his approach. He stands alongside her, following her eyes with his own.

"Children raised as soldiers…" Blair murmurs, face twisting. "Fucking hell."

"A sad byproduct of all this," Soap adds wistfully, motioning at the air around them. "They don't deserve this."

A frigid gust of mountain air buffets the two soldiers. Blair's ponytail, though mostly tucked underneath her helmet, fights with the wind.

"You speak Georgian, Moore?"

"I speak a lot of things."

"Private Breaux said you were talking to the boy. What did you say to him?"

Blair stares off. Admitting what she had exchanged with the young boy still poisons her throat. She’d failed the boy, and even more, she was bearing her shortcomings now. "I told him I knew he was afraid,” Blair confesses, “and I told him I wanted to help him. I would protect him, but he needed to put the gun down."

"How did you know he wouldn't try to shoot you?"

She hadn't known with certainty. Other than relying on what she suspected.

"He hesitated. He wanted a break in the narrative he had written for him," Blair explains. Her chest tightens. "Reprieve from the war he's been born into."

That boy needed counting books, and stuffed animals, and dreams about being an astronaut or a mountain climber. He didn’t need a gun in hand and the fear that the world was out to get him and his family. He needed innocence, and that had already been stripped from him. And now he’d be buried in a grave six feet under – another “sad byproduct” of this war.

"You've dealt a lot with that, huh?" Soap frowns.

The remark isn't meant to impede itself into Blair's flesh, serrated and agonizing. How could anybody know the stark reality of Blair's upbringing? It wasn't something she advertised. Hell, if anything, it's something Blair continuously attempts to bury.

She was made a soldier. Preached pious bullshit that her father had crafted and narrated because it fit the story he desired to see. These kids in these remote homes were birthed into similar perspectives, fueled even more by the poverty and war-torn homes they were run out of.

"All too well…" Blair breathes, the air exiting her lungs like a remorseful confession. She feels her skin itch, the yearning desire to admit the vulgarity of her heritage and upbringing. She doesn't want her personal feelings to seem like they collude with her better judgment, but even after years of being at war, Blair can't perform the debridement of those emotions from her cranium.

Soap rests a hand on her shoulder. A gesture of consolation. Of companionship. Blair's spine stiffens at the motion, but she refrains from acting thankless.

"I'm sorry."

Her blue eyes traverse to meet his gaze. There's a deluge of warmth that fills Blair's bloodstream. She's spent so much time alone, stripped of camaraderie and brotherhood, that the mere notion nearly blindsides the weathered warrior. She blinks, too stunned to speak. Her neural pathways short-circuit, sparks spilling over her cortices and setting her senses alight.

Grappling at anything at the moment, Blair defaults only to what is her baseline, factory settings. Posture tightens. Chin lifts. It's the skeleton bones of standing at attention. The only thing Blair can do when shocked by her own emotions. And then comes the crass sarcasm. Blair gives a solemn laugh, a sound that betrays Blair, conveying her brokenness.

"Don't be sorry," she counters. "There's nothing glorious about what we do, Soap."

"Doesn't mean we still don't bleed for what we see and deal with," Soap reasons.

Boots thud against the ground behind the two sergeants. Both Blair and Soap take their eyes off the steppes to address the approaching soldier.

"Lieutenant Moore, Sergeant Mactavish, we have something you ought to see."

The duo flashes a gaze between them, following the soldier to a unit on the second floor of the building. Bullet holes scar the front door, and one of the AQ soldiers lies dead near the kitchen stove. Blair scans the unit, following where the other soldiers indicate their need for attention.

Inside a bedroom is a large mahogany desk, the refined craftsmanship ruined by evident bullet wounds sustained in the Marines and AQ's exchange. Papers are scattered about the tabletop, an inscribed map underneath the heap of intel. There's a laptop computer broken apart on the desk, the screen cracked while the motherboard sits exposed from blunt force trauma committed to the keyboard and body. It's a mess, obviously left in haste.

Blair reaches to grab at the haphazardly placed papers. A frown shifts across her lips.

"Al-Asad isn't here…but he was….these are plans; look at the details," Blair observes, sifting through the papers. Soap steps to her side, brushing his fingers to separate a stack of papers. Everything is written in Arabic, and while Blair is proficient in the language, reading it takes her a moment longer.

"Can you make much sense of it?" Soap prompts.

"Some…" Blair mutters, squinting at the papers.

She points at the emblem stamped on the papers, and the location circled on the map. Verdansk, Kastovia.

"Something's about to go down in Kastovia."

#john mactavish × original character #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty oc #blair rogue moore

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