stronger than you know

independent multimuse - very slow activity! - loved by em

[civitatum-corda]

misunderstoodcreatures​:

“You know you’re my family right?” Matt found himself saying, clearly still affected by everything that had happened that night because, under normal circumstances, he would never, ever say something like that. He was also two seconds away from telling Foggy what had happened between Cedric and him but Fogg got them blankets and pijamas and he went through the motions. It had been way too long since Cedric died and even though Matthew had been visibly affected by it, well, no one would think they had had a thing for a hot second, not even Foggy. And he didn’t like to keep secrets from his best friend, not even when he was still so unsure of what he liked and whether it was wrong or not (he had been raised a catholic before Hogwarts after all). 

Reaching for a warm t-shirt, he got his own off and put it on, putting a worn out sweater on top of it, trying not to stare at Foggy–Foggy was his best friend and his family and he didn’t want to lose him, not over his stupid confusion. Cedric had been safer that way; he had been older and not his best friend / family. “Are you sure it’s OK for me to stay here Fog? I don’t want you to get in trouble with the rest of the house on my account. Everyone’s very… edgy lately.” Still, he set a blanket over their feet. 

Foggy was not going to cry. He was not going to cry and he was not going to blurt out all of the feelings for Matt that always bubbled dangerously close to the surface on the exceedingly occasions that Matt said such things. Rather than even try to respond and risk saying far more than he should, Foggy settled for a smile and a firm squeeze of Matt’s hand before letting go of it altogether.

He busied himself with putting on a pajama shirt and then a sweater to avoid accidentally glancing over at Matt at all while they were respectively changing, pleased for the length of their robes as he quickly exchanged his jeans for a pair of pajama pants. Matt had already made it abundantly clear during that awful argument they’d had that he was the straightest man to ever walk the earth, and he didn’t want to chance making him uncomfortable by even giving the faintest hint that Foggy might have glanced in his direction while he was changing.

Slumping back on the sofa with a muted sigh, Foggy dragged a hand through his hair. Glancing over at Matt when he spoke again, though, he gave an earnest shake of his head. “I swear, no one’s going to mind. They all know the kind of run-ins you have with the Carrows and if there’s somewhere you can be that lets you avoid them for even a little, the rest of the house will understand. Plus, and this may come as a shock to you,” he teased gently, tugging the blanket up further as he settled a little more, “most of them actually like you, Matt.”

[civitatum-corda]

misunderstoodcreatures​:

Even when Pancho said she didn’t have to apologize, she still felt guilty. She should’ve told him what had happened but Bree didn’t want his pity, not then and certainly not now. He knew Pancho better than to think that his actions could ever be dictated by pity but she still had that wall up–there had been too much time and space between them, even if now he was hugging her with all his might and getting her shoulder wet with his tears for the baby they never had. 

“Ben is far better than what everyone gives him credit for,” Bree whispered against his shoulder, not wanting to move an inch because the very last thing she needed right now was accidentally start kissing him while crying, that was just all around depressing, wasn’t it? No. Plus, he may not kiss her back and again, why would she kiss him in the first place?

“Well but uhm, well, what’s done is done, isn’t it? It’s been over a decade, we’ve changed. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at the time but I guess it worked out for the best,” Bree breathed out, letting go of the hug and trying to put a little distance between them, mostly to keep herself in check. Brushing off her tears with one of her hands and took a deep breath. “I had bought some pastries for breakfast before all of this. Would you like some tea? Or coffee? Or something stronger all things considered?”

Pancho smiled a little against Bree’s shoulder when she said Ben was better than he got credit for being. Sure, his temper could flare a little hot at times. But he cared a lot about the people he loved. And he and Pancho had gone through an emo phase together back in their younger years, which had produced, on his own part, some truly regretful hair and fashion decisions. “He is, isn’t he?”

He gave that persistent little voice in the back of his head a sound kick when it had the audacity to be disappointed when the hug ended and Bree sat back. What, was it supposed to have gone on forever? Truth be told, it was a good thing it had ended when it did. His heart might’ve taken the wheel and done something his brain would absolutely not approve. He rubbed a hand over his eyes to scrub away any remaining tears and took a deep, cleansing breath. “Let’s maybe skip the stronger stuff for now,” he said, though her suggestion had brought up a bit of a laugh in him. “Though I’m all for coming back to it later tonight, unless you’ve already got plans. Coffee sounds great.” He pushed himself to his feet, offering a hand down to Bree once he got there.

[civitatum-corda]

amomentxofhappiness​:

YES WE KNOW ABOUT OTHER UNIVERSES, Venom said in his head and Eddie could feel the symbiote wanted to show himself so Eddie attempted to stop him inside his head, only to realize he was talking out loud. “Shut up,” Eddie told Venom and shook his head closing his eyes for a moment before meeting Peter’s. “Sorry. That was for him, not you. He doesn’t like you much for some reason. And yeah, that was the least of my worries. I spent hours trying to understand what the hell was happening and when I was about to pay for my drinks and go to New York to find this other you we got zinged back here. It was a very unpleasant sensation.” And this came from a man that a symbiote sharing his body. I RESENT THAT.

Wait, was Peter inviting him for coffee? Really? What the–He did not see that coming. “You wanna go for coffee? With us?” It had become increasingly harder for Eddie not to talk in plural lately and even though he was usually cool at controlling it well, he wasn’t himself around Peter, he never managed that, no matter how much he tried. “Of course I like coffee, why wouldn’t I like coffee?” he asked with a bit of a frown. “So I just meet you there or how you wanna do this?”

Peter’s nose wrinkled up when Eddie seemingly told him to shut up out of nowhere, but realized that the explanation made much more sense. He rocked back on his heels, dusting his hands aimlessly over his thighs at the revelation that Venom was not his biggest fan. “Oh, I, uh. . .” he said, head cocking to the side. It wasn’t every day you were told that an alien symbiote didn’t particularly like you. What was an appropriate way to respond to something like that? “I’m. . . I’m sorry? For both things, I guess. Yeah, getting zapped back here wasn’t all that pleasant for me, either.” Nor had the approximately a million missed calls he’d realized he had from Aunt May once his phone returned from being entirely useless in the other universe. 

“I mean, yeah,” Peter said, shrugging loosely. “I figure you have a lot of questions--I’m not sure I have all the answers, but I might have some? But it might take awhile, and,” he gestured vaguely to his suit, “I don’t generally stand around like, you know, this, all the time.” As for the coffee, he shrugged again. “I guess that might’ve been more aimed at him, rather than you. I don’t know if he likes coffee, or can drink it. But--yeah. We can meet there. Twenty minutes? Gotta figure something else out, clothes-wise.” After making the confirmation, Peter webbed in the general direction of one of the spots he tended to keep regular, Peter Parker clothes stashed away.

Taking a leaf out of Peter-two’s book, rather than take off his suit entirely, he pulled off the mask, gloves, and shoes and tucked them into the backpack where he’d been keeping his clothes. Over what remained of the suit, he tugged a hoodie over his head and pulled on a pair of jeans, sticking his feet into a pair of beat-up sneakers. With the backpack slung over his shoulder, he made his way back to the cafe, raising a hand in a tentative wave when he spotted Eddie again.

[civitatum-corda]

amomentxofhappiness​:

“I ended up at a bar in Cancun in a different dimension. Or earth, or something like that,” Eddie kept it short, no need to explain why he was in Cancun or all the shitshow with Carnage–not that many people knew what was going on with that. NOT A DIMENSION, A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE, Venom clarified in his head and Eddie told him to shut up–not that it’d work though, and he didn’t want to look even more insane, at least not in front of Peter. 

Most people involved in what had happened with Carnage were dead, which was a sort of blessing and a curse. Thankfully Anne was an amazing lawyer and was getting him off the hook with a fine. But that was besides the point, plus Peter had his own Spider-thingy across country, and they had gone their separate ways years ago–at least felt like years ago so he doubted Peter had heard of it. Actually he hoped he hadn’t. WHY ARE WE HERE EDDIE, HE IS NOT GOING TO HELP US.

“So you didn’t do it? Because the only common thing between that place and this was you so I thought. I mean not you, there was a different Peter Parker. A teen, can you believe it? Of course you can believe it, you were there too, weren’t you?”

Peter decided to breeze right past the mention of being in Cancun. Eddie didn’t seem the type to travel much, necessarily, especially given the whole attached-to-a-symbiote thing, but who was Peter to question it? “Different universe, actually,” he said. “But, you know. Close enough. Doesn’t really matter in the moment, when you’re suddenly somewhere you don’t technically belong, I guess?”

Not that that thought had stopped Peter from briefly rambling on about string theory in front of the friends of that universe’s Peter Parker. At least it had turned out that all three of them shared a similar predilection toward science-y interests and the occasional ramble. He still wasn’t entirely sure what had sent him and the other, “youth pastor” Peter back to their own respective universes. Something to do with the wizard, he assumed. Which was a whole other thing he had decided not to think about at all for the time being.

“No, I didn’t,” said Peter. A little chuckle escaped him at the mention of the younger version of him. “But yeah, I was there. It’s funny, he seemed so young. But I was about his age when I started this whole thing.” It was a hell of a thing to end up on a teenager’s shoulders, even accidentally as it had been for all three of them. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, I assume you have more questions--and why wouldn’t you? There’s a coffee place like a block that way, if. . .” He paused in jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I mean, unless you don’t like coffee.” Oh, god help me. I have never learned how to not be awkward.

[civitatum-corda]

amomentxofhappiness​:

@civitatum-corda​ ENABLER *SPIDER NWH SPOILERS** (( it’s been a week and it’s tagged!))

Eddie was not impressionable, especially not after having venom with him 24/7 but getting shoved into a different earth or whatever the fuck that was, well, besides being hillarious was also low-key disturbing. and the only point in common between that place and this was peter. pretty, angsty, annoyingly good guy from queens that probably never killed a bug even though he wanted to think he was angry and edgy now. So since he had for once turned in his work early and he had already gotten enough chocolate and chickens for venom eddie managed to convince him to go looking for peter. was it risky? probably. would they get sucker-punched? likely.

but as long as they kept a low profile (yeah right), they should be able to find the amazing spider-man somewhere in the vicinity. and, soon enough, narrowlingly avoiding being spotted by cops, they found the spider guy. or well, the spider guy found them.

“So I know i’m not your favorite person in the world. You know, things were said, bones were broken but uh—this really weird thing happened to me last week and I think it has to do with you. So uh–can you maybe stop glaring at me and have a decent conversation?”

Surely, there had to be an upper limit to the amounts of weirdness that could occur in someone’s life. There just had to be. But, given that the weirdness had only accelerated since he’d first gotten bitten by that radioactive spider. . . maybe not. It had started out strange and sort of wonderful. The wonderful part had quickly withered into nothing. He still enjoyed being able to be there for his neighborhood and keeping people safe, but he was not the cheerful, quippy Spider-Man that had first sprung up all those years ago. He hadn’t been since. . . since her.

He’d rediscovered some of the joy that came along with his powers and his suit when he’d found himself in another universe. An entire other universe, alongside two other Peter Parkers. It should’ve been bizarre. And it was, but it had also been. . . nice was the wrong word, but it was the only one Peter could bring to mind. Fighting as part of a team, being around the only two people in the multiverse (that he was aware of so far) who would understand exactly what his life was like, getting to almost redo some of his past failures. . . it had brought back a tiny, little spark of something in him that he hadn’t felt in years.

That spark threatened to snuff out and die the moment his senses alerted him to the fact that someone was following him and he realized it was Eddie. Eddie, and that symbiote, considering they were sort of one and the same. As he approached Eddie, some form of ‘not today’ that hopefully didn’t come out too rudely on the tip of his tongue, though, the other beat him to the punch.

Still about to tell him off, though, Peter’s mouth opened. And then closed abruptly. His brows pinched together, less of a glare this time and more confusion. “. . . What weird thing happened to you,” he asked slowly. “Because a weird thing happened to me last week too, but it wasn’t to do with me. I mean---it did have something to do with me, I guess, but it wasn’t because of me.” Not this version of him, anyway.

[civitatum-corda]

misunderstoodcreatures​:

“If I could stop for your sake I would Foggy, I swear,” Matthew whispered still holding the other’s hand and meaning every word. Neville and Ginny were good friends but Foggy was so much more than that. Foggy was family. Foggy had a way of making him feel at ease and confident and comfortable all at once that he hadn’t found in anyone else, not even Elektra for however short that fling had been. Things had changed since then, so very much that she seemed nothing but a distant memory. Cedric had died. Harry was gone. And Foggy was here; Foggy was always here for him, taking care of him and supporting him even when he didn ’t always see eye to eye. But he understood why Matthew had to do what he had to do.

“We need to hold down the fort until Harry comes back. He will come back with a plan or, okay maybe not with a plan,” Matthew admitted but putting his hope in Harry never failed him before and he wasnt about to start doubting him now.

Matthew knew that his sense of humor was a little dark, especially to someone who always saw the good in everything and everyone but it was Matthew’s way of coping with things when it got too hard. Holding Foggy’s hand in both of his he gave him a little smile. “Aw Fog, you’re going to make me blush,” he whispered teasingly not letting go of the other’s hand and feeling the tremors recede more and more with every minute. It felt as if Foggy’s entire being helped Matthew heal.

He was glad they could stay in the common room, though the idea of taking over Fogfy’s bed seemed appealing in his current state, but he wasnt about to kick Foggy out of it, and he wasnt’ sure enough of himself to offer to share the bed. The common room felt safer in a way. “Thank you Fog,” he whispered reaching for a lock of the blond’s hair and setting it carefully behind the ear, caressing the side of his face withe the back of his fingers. “Hogwarts would be horrible without you here,” he added before he could stop himself.

Matt did a lot of things that had Foggy questioning everything about it. But the way he said he would stop for Foggy’s sake. . . somehow, Foggy didn’t question it. Not for a second. “I believe you,” he murmured. There was just something about his tone and the way he continued to hold Foggy’s hand like a lifeline. He was all too aware of the fact that he was the closest thing to family Matt had. Sure, he had other good friends, but the way his and Foggy’s lives had become so intertwined was something else entirely. Something that Foggy didn’t dare pull on too hard, lest it unravel and release the far less than platonic feelings he had that lurked just beneath the surface.

“Plans have never really been Harry’s specialty,” Foggy agreed with a weak laugh. That he would come back, come hell or high water, unless something truly prevented him from doing so, though, was not something Foggy questioned. He and Matt were cut from a similarly stubborn cloth in Foggy’s opinion.

If even the lightest touch didn’t appear as though it would knock Matt over, Foggy would’ve jokingly swatted at his friend by now. As it was, he merely gave him a light, reproving squeeze of his hand and rolled his eyes theatrically as he attempted to ignore the way his heart somersaulted in his chest. “Oh, I see. I get sentimental and you mock me,” he complained theatrically, a little smile twitching at his lips in spite of himself.

Except, then Matt was reaching out to tuck an errant few strands of hair behind his ear and Foggy was in real, entirely un-funny danger of flushing all the way to the roots of his hair. The gentle touch to his face absolutely did not help matters. Matt was clearly not yet in his right mind after what he’d endured that night; Foggy couldn’t torture himself by reading anything into his current actions. No matter what his traitorous heart, thudding against his ribs incessantly, was demanding he do otherwise. Thank god Matt couldn’t hear his heartbeat behind the facade he was currently attempting to maintain. “I. . . yeah. Same here. Except, you know. Without you,” Foggy managed to get out, rolling his eyes internally at himself at how ridiculous he had sounded. Lifting his wand again, without letting go of Matt’s hand, he accio’ed a few blankets from his bed, as well as his pajamas and a few comfortable items of Matt’s clothing that had somehow ended up in his belongings (and belatedly hoped he had not awoken any of his roommates). They spent so much time together a certain degree of overlap was inevitable; Foggy was fairly certain at least a few of his more comfortable, casual articles of clothing had ended up amongst Matt’s things.

[civitatum-corda]

misunderstoodcreatures​:

Bree hadn’t cried like this in a decade. Not even after finding out Pancho was moving in with that woman she cried this hard, when she thought her silly ideas about them ending up together were as good as gone, no. She had gotten drunk then. Piss off drunk while her parents were travelling and she was house & dog sitting. She was glad to be there with Threepio and her father’s 20 year single malt and forgot that Ben would also be around. She wasn’t counting on her cousin turned big brother to find her drunk and moppy but he had and she had slipped about the pregnancy. 

Ben had taken the single malt away from her, locked it up for both of their sakes and held her while crying. The next morning he prepared her a disgusting mix that helped her with the hangover and during coffee, calmly, he asked her what had happened and she told him. At first she didn’t want to because Ben’s temper was legendary and she always knew she was his favorite–she was fearful over Pancho’s kneecaps too but Ben understood, or at least, he kept a straight tone, held her, promised he wouldn’t tell anyone and surprised her by telling her she should come clean to Francisco, even if he had moved in with someone. But she didn’t bulge and never brought it up again and neither did Benjamin. 

But not even then, when she was confessing to her sort of big brother what had happened to her in Honduras, when she explained she couldn’t tell Pancho cos he was happy with someone else, she hadn’t cried like this, with her whole body shaking and barely able to speak–and Pancho was right in front of her saying all the right things and making her feel even more guilty for keeping him in the dark as she already felt. “I wasn’t going to ruin your plans. There was no baby so there was no point,” she managed to breath out between sobs and brushing off tears with a shaky hand. 

She shook her head to his first question while trying to keep herself from crying further and failing at it. “No, only Bucky knew for years. Then–then when you–” her voice was faltering and her lower lip trembled while she tried to gather her thoughts. “When you moved in with her, I was–I got very drunk and uhm, and Ben found out. He was real nice about it. He told me I should tell you, I didn’t see that coming,” she took a deep breath and stole a glimpse at Pancho’s face before looking down at her hands again, the tears running free over her cheeks, feeling entirely too guilty about the whole ordeal, about keeping him in the dark, for keeping herself at a safe distance from him for the most part. She loved him and he cared for her, so why couldn’t she just tell him about this then? Things would’ve been so different if she had. 

When he asked if he could hold her she furrowed her eyebrows and looked up at him, "yeah, sure. why are you asking for permission?” she asked before sniffling loudly and brushing off tears that kept coming. Leaning towards him, she hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.”

Pancho’s heart dropped straight into his stomach when Bree said she wasn’t going to ruin his plans. What kind of a friend had he been all these years that she thought she could ruin any of his plans by asking anything of him? He knew he’d dropped the ball in particular while he’d been dating his most recent ex, but he hadn’t thought he would have pushed her far enough way in a desperate bid not to ruin their relationship by blurting out all his feelings that she would feel like she couldn’t ask things of him. 

When she said she’d gotten drunk alone when he moved in with. . . with her, both his heart and stomach fell to his feet. Both because he’d had approximately no idea just how much him moving in with her had negatively affected Bree and also because oh god Ben knew?! Ben knew he’d done something so monumentally stupid and he hadn’t killed him the next time they’d seen each other? Moreover, he’d actually been nice about it and suggested she tell Pancho about the pregnancy? Well, he wouldn’t have had much of a doubt about Ben being nice to Bree about it. To him, on the other hand. . . usually, there wasn’t much of a problem, if any, between them, but Pancho had always found Ben to be a bit of a difficult one to read.

He had still been unable to find his words right up until the moment that Bree leaned forward and hugged him. Pancho returned the hug with all his might, fueled by every single scrap of every suppressed feeling for her he had ever had. He pressed his face into her shoulder, mindful of the fact that he should probably feel a little bad for getting her shoulder all wet with his tears. Though, the thought did come to him in a fit of ill-timed wry humor that the hoodie she was wearing did belong to him, and that he was probably within his rights to cry on it at least a little. “You don’t need to apologize,” he mumbled into her shoulder, not letting her go, “for anything.”

Lifting his head ever so slightly, just enough to remove his face from her shoulder and to hook his chin over the top of it, he continued speaking in that same, wobbling voice. “I’m glad you had Ben, too. Especially considering he didn’t take me out after you told him,” he managed a watery little half-laugh. “Just. . . you telling me would not have ruined things for me. It probably would’ve changed my plans, sure, but, I mean---” He drew in a sharp, shuddering breath. “Anything to do with you is not something that could ruin anything for me.”

[civitatum-corda]

misunderstoodcreatures​:

Sabrina remembered those days after losing the baby as some of the toughest of her life. She hadn’t been entirely alone since James was right there next to her and it was partially because of what happened that they had become such good friends. She had made him swear not to tell anyone what was going on, to pass it as some infection that needed bedrest and he had complied and for that Bree had always been grateful. She had felt bad enough without pity look or judgemental ones and she didn’t want thee news to leak back to her family or o Francisco. She had promised to herself to tell them in due time but she hadn’t told anyone but Ben, mainly because she knew he wouldn’t say a word. She had also made him promise not to go looking for Pancho because he didn’t know and that–Ben’s reaction to that had made her realize that maybe she should’ve told him about it. Ben told her Francisco deserved to know, even if he was with someone else at the time.

And here they were, Francisco holding her hands while they were barely keeping it together, but she had to because, well, because it was all she had left. She had made the decision not to tell him and she was going to stick to it. His words confused her though, the reasons why he’d be sad and she was genuinely afraid to ask because she had had enough and she didn’t want to revisit it, not after so long. 

And then he kept talking and it was really easy to remember why she had always been in love with him, even before knowing what that felt like. “I was away, okay? You were in college and…” she had to stop to take a deep breath and even her voice, feeling the tears piling up in her throat and making it very hard for her to go on talking. “I wasn’t pregnant long. At least, I didn’t know for long. before I… before I…” her breath was catching on her throat before she pulled a hand away from him  to brush off her tears, knowing she wouldn’t stop crying any time soon. 

“I didn’t know what to do okay? I was–I was alone and Bucky helped me a lot, he kept everyone at bay and no one else knew and I thought–I thought if I pretended it didn’t happen then… then I’d be okay.”

The idea of Bree, scared and alone and in both intense emotional and physical pain, was going to haunt Pancho as long as he lived. He knew there was no earthly way he could blame himself for not being there. Bree hadn’t told him and she had likely made sure whoever she had told (and, hopefully, she had told somebody, because the idea of her going through a miscarriage alone was too much to bear) wouldn’t tell him either. That was her choice, and though it broke his heart that he hadn’t been able to be there for her as she mourned and healed, he respected that choice.

“I know things were. . . complicated, and we were far apart, but---” His voice cracked again and he reluctantly released one of her hands, impatiently swiping at the tears that were now in a free-fall down his cheeks. “Like I said. I would’ve dropped everything for you. And it wouldn’t have been a sacrifice.” Some people might’ve been lying when they said things like that. Especially in a situation like this one where the potential situation had passed and there was no longer any need to actually drop something important in favor of a friend or significant other in need. Pancho wasn’t.

His chin wobbled with about a half-second of warning when Bree started crying harder before a sob bubbled up in his own throat. He loved her. In spite of the time that had passed and the distance, though currently on the mend, that had come between them, he loved her. And it was crushing him to see her like this and know it was his fault. He should’ve been more careful and not allowed his love and lust-addled brain to forget something so simple and easy to use as a condom.

“I’m---I’m glad you had Bucky,” said Pancho. And he was. He couldn’t stand the idea, brief though its existence had been in his mind, that she could’ve been going through all of this alone. “There were. . . there were other people who knew, though, right? Just---I need to know you had someone who was there for you if I wasn’t able to be.” He wanted to hug her. He had never wanted to hug a person so badly in his life. The fear that touching her more than just holding her hand would cause every bottled-up and hidden away feeling he’d ever had about her to spill out was the only thing stopping him. That wasn’t what she needed right now.

But he had to offer some kind of comfort. He never could stand to see her cry. “Bree, can I---would it. . . would it be okay if I hugged you?” he asked, voice watery.

[civitatum-corda]

misunderstoodcreatures​:

Foggy’s hand holding his made the shaking soothe somewhat. He could understand what his friend was saying and what he was trying to do but the nightmares kept piling up in his head: his father in a pool of blood, the convent brought down, curses going left and right, dumbledore’s death, cedric—- cedric’s empty eyes and whitened cheeks when he was brought back by harry, foggy getting hit by a curse… it was all too fucking much and half of it wasn’t true and he knew it. logically, he knew how the crutiatus worked, how it brought you to madness, how the shaking was a response of his system, a physical response to emotional distress. and foggy always made things better, just with his touch or a kind word. he was the best of them all, even though he could have that lecturing tone worthy of a mother. he could feel foggy’s spell cutting through the haze and the memories / nightmares in repeat and his breathing evened out a little, though the shaking was still there. 

“y-yes, better,” he whispered in a broken voice, gripping at foggy’s hand a little harsher. it took matthew a few blinks and an inmense amount of effort to process his friend’s question but once he did, he nodded. “hiding. he’s–he’s hiding. he’s making progress–we’re all making progress with… you know,” the passage he meant to say, and he probably could have but he wasn’t sure if any of the hufflepuffs were listening in and were going to tell on him. matthew was okay with risking his own life but he wasn’t about to risk foggy’s. 

“i can’t back off foggy…” he whispered leaning his back on the armchair but without letting go of foggy’s hand, looking at it for a second before looking back at his eyes. “i can’t sit by and let them torture a kid. they don’t deserve it and some of them are like me, they’re here because they don’t have a family that’ll take them home to safety. someone needs to look out for them. I can take it,” he breathed out shakily and nodded, squeezing foggy’s hand a little when the other said he couldn’t lose him. “you won’t foggy. you know i’ll always have your back and if they off me, then i’ll just haunt hogwarts and have your back with a lot of new tricks,” he attempted to joke with a very tired and sad smile. “can i crash here tonight? i don’t wanna risk going out again.”

A short breath of relief punched free of Foggy’s lungs when Matt’s breathing evened out some. The shaking remained, but Foggy hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking to imagine it was perhaps a little less present than it had been. There wasn’t much more he could do now, other than continue to be there for Matt and hope that it would be enough.

As much as Foggy was upset with the current state of Matt, he was at least glad to know the passage was coming along and that Neville was safe and in hiding. There was a goal, at the very least, a reason for the hurt and a potential end in sight. Even if it often felt like this would all end up being for nothing. If whatever Harry was off doing didn’t work, all they could do was hold off the inevitable. And a dark, malignant part of Foggy’s brain would pipe up from time to time to question whether all the pain and suffering was worth it, if it could end up all being for nothing in the end.

Foggy’s stomach lurched when Matt mentioned a kid being tortured. “I don’t want you back off all the way, I could never ask that of you,” he said, his tone pained. “And those kids. . . I know they need you, and everyone else in the DA.” But there were few others who would know their situation half so well as Matt. Well, Harry would’ve, but they only ever had the vaguest idea of where Harry was when he managed to briefly get himself into trouble. Otherwise, it was for the best that none of them knew. Not that the Death Eater professors ever truly believed none of them knew anything. They’d ‘check’ every once in a while.

A choked noise halfway between a laugh and a sob wrenched free of Foggy’s throat before he could stop it when Matt mentioned dying. “Don’t even joke about that,” he said, managing half of a weak, watery chuckle. “I have no doubt you’d put even Peeves to shame with schemes, but. . . Hogwarts without you properly here isn’t---it’s not much of a Hogwarts.”

He was glad Matt asked if he could stay before Foggy had to try to figure out a way to ask him to do so in a way that Matt wouldn’t refuse out of some convoluted sense of duty or being a burden. “Yeah, of course. No one will bother us if we sleep here in the common room tonight. Or you can go ahead and sleep in my bed and I’ll stay here.” Because he was not about to suggest they share a bed, no matter how strong that urge to hold Matt still was.

[civitatum-corda]

//live footage of me sprinting gleefully into angstville with @misunderstoodcreatures​:

[civitatum-corda]

misunderstoodcreatures​:

This was bree’s first day off in what felt like a month and she had managed to sleep almost 5 hours straight before waking up to the noisy street. Pancho wasn’t around but there was coffee done and she thought for the hundredth time that week alone how happy she was to have him here, even if the flat felt crammed with their things and he was possibly still sad about the bitch that had made his life hell. She was just happy to have him back in some sort of way, to have his clothes hanging next to hers in the closet, to be have access to his nerdy t-shirts and hoodies and okay, maybe she fantasized with them getting back together again–not that they had never been an official item, even though her entire family seemed to think so since they were kids. 

Since she was peckish and he was out and wasn’t sure when he was supposed to be coming back–was it his day off too? Her mind was to foggy to recall–she put on some leggings, a t-shirt and his blue hoodie, mainly because it was warm and it smelled like him, though she wasn’t about to tell him that, ever. 

After getting some pastries from the bakery around the corner she made it back home, noticing his shoes by the door and grinning, heading to the bedroom to see if he was there–and he was, holding a letter. No, not just any letter, that letter. She had to keep herself in check not to drop the baked goods paper bag she was holding and just said “hey,” from the door, taking a deep breath when he asked that question. She had an answer for it. She had thought of this conversation a handful of times while she was in Honduras but then he had started dating that woman so Bree decided not to tell him, not to burden with that. There was no point in making him sad about it… and now he was crying. 

Taking a couple of steps into the room, she sat in front of him, setting the bag down and slowly reaching for the letter. “No, but uhm–I never threw away the letter so I guess… maybe?” she shook her head looking down at it and feeling the tears pool in her eyes, needing to blink a few times not to cry. “It happened right after you left. I was late and…. And I didn’t want to tell you over a videocall and then… I don’t know Francisco. I just–” she shrugged and took another breath. “I didn’t want to get you sad about it. It was probably for the best,” she whispered furrowing her eyebrows, not really believing those words. “We were babies ourselves.”

Pancho hadn’t been meant to leave that day at all. It was a rare day off for him and the shop could survive without his presence for one single day, even if things went slightly awry as they apparently had that morning. But he’d felt compelled to go deal with the absolute Karen of a customer that was giving one of the other mechanics hell, given his greater mastery of the quasi-polite ‘fuck you.’ He’d slipped out of the bed quietly so as to not wake Bree, sound asleep on the morning of one of her excessively rare days off. And quickly, so as to not dwell on how peaceful she looked. And beautiful. Because that ship had sailed, hadn’t it? They were still the best of friends, and that was something that Pancho would never, ever take for granted. 

Even in the midst of pining for her so much that his heart ached when she did nothing more than brush her hair over her shoulder or smile that smile that wrinkled her nose just a little.

The letter slipped out of his slack grasp without resistance when she took it. He rubbed a rough hand over his eyes, willing the tears to stay where they were and not spill over. It became exponentially more difficult not to cry when he realized Bree also had tears in her eyes. God, he hated seeing her sad.

Each one of the words of her explanation seemed to hit him in the gut, wrapping around his heart like a particularly thorny vine. “I mean, yeah, I would’ve been sad,” he said with a wobbly voice, gesturing wryly to the sadness currently stamped all over his face. “Just. . . maybe not entirely for the reasons you think?”

He reached between them, around the letter, to gently take Bree’s hands in his own, needing the contact probably more than she did to keep himself at least slightly grounded. “The thought of you, going through that all on your own. . . god, Bree, what did you think?” The first of the tears made their escape, slipping down his face as his voice pinched in the middle with emotion. “Did you think for a second that I wouldn’t drop absolutely everything for you? I know we were young, but I would’ve figured something out.” He squeezed her hands a little harder. “At the very least, I could’ve been there for you. I kind of hate that I wasn’t,” he sniffled.

[civitatum-corda]

misunderstoodcreatures​:

Even thought Hogwarts had been the closest thing he had had to a real home since losing his dad Matt was more than ready to leave and never come back. Things had gotten increasingly worse since the triwizard championship and Cedric’s death but this year, with the Dark Lord out and about and all the death eater “professors” it was hell. There weren’t many things keeping the younger students out of their wrath but Neville, Ginny and himself were trying their best, which meant getting in the way and getting blamed for everything and anything the younger ones did. And that was okay if it meant not seeing a 2nd year get crutio’ed. 

Neville had gone too far and was hiding in the Room of Requirements. He was helping with what he could making the new passageway and they were close to being over–at least they hoped they were but that night he was caught in the passageways by himself and he had to think fast. Ultimately the Carrow siblings didn’t care much his reason for being outside of his common room, they were eager for the opportunity to get a Gryffindor tortured for the sake of it. 

Matt was still shaking from it but he hadn’t complained or begged them to stop–that seemed to egg them on even more because they were fucked up like that so he stoically put up with it and when dismissed, instead of going to his own common room he snuck into Hufflepuffs to see Foggy. He wasn’t sure if he wa up for a lecture, he just wanted the shaking and nightmares playing again and again in his head to stop. He wasn’t physically injured and yet he felt as if he had been beaten to a pulp. 

“Just make it stop please,” Matthew breathed out with a broken voice reaching for Foggy’s hand with his shaking one. “I was–I was helping Nev,” he said shakily. “We have to stop them Foggy and I don’t—I don’t how much more I can take without–” losing my mind.

For all that Foggy had been gearing up to give Matt a lecture the second he stumbled into the Hufflepuff common room, clearly fresh from his latest face-off with either or both of the Carrows, it was gone the second he got a proper look at Matt. Matt, who was shaking like a leaf and whose eyes were sad and slightly unfocused and frightening. It was enough to remind Foggy that he wasn’t mad at Matt, not really. He was terrified for Matt. Because, though he got on his nerves like no one else far too frequently for Foggy’s tastes, Matt was still his friend. His stupidly noble, ridiculously big-hearted friend who was going to get himself killed because he cared about others so much.

He grabbed Matt’s shaking hand, squeezing gently. “I’ve got you, Matt,” he said, scooting a little closer and holding his wand steady. “Try to take some deep, slow breaths. Sanitatem mentis,” he murmured, tension lingering in his own body until he could confirm visually that the spell had worked and released Matt from the lingering torture that the cruciatus curse inflicted. “Better?” he asked, still holding Matt’s hand and intending to continue to do so until Matt indicated it was no longer necessary. And also fighting down the urge to figure out a way to hold Matt until some of the haunted pain in his eyes receded in favor of at least a trickle of the light of which he was far, far too fond.

“Is Neville all right?” he asked, brow furrowed. Like Matt, Neville was far too noble and kind for his own good. “You have to back off at least a little,” he said, heart wrenching at the implications of the unfinished end of Matt’s sentence. “I can’t ask you to stop because none of us can, not really, just. . .” He sighed, squeezing at Matt’s hand again, far more weakly this time. “Watching them go further and further hurting you every time is---I can’t. I can’t lose you, Matt.”

[civitatum-corda]

closed starter for @misunderstoodcreatures​ because YOU ASKED FOR ANGST AND I’M DELIVERING:

“Bree?” Pancho called as he stepped into their shared apartment, remembering only at the last second to nudge his shoes off to the side of the welcome mat so as to not lay a trip hazard for Bree for the umpteenth time. “Did you steal my hoodie again? The blue one. I couldn’t find it this morning and---” He noted the both the silence of the apartment around him and the lack of Bree’s coat in its customary place. “. . . And you’re not here, so I’m talking to myself.” Deciding to take initiative and look for it himself, figuring it has probably made its way to her side of the wardrobe from his, he made his way back to the bedroom.

Making a mental note to clean up his side of the wardrobe a little once he’d found his hoodie, he stepped further into the wardrobe to look, pausing when his foot bumped something on the floor. Pancho bent down to look, realizing it was Bree’s memory box. He hadn’t realized she’d still kept one; somehow, he’d missed it when he’d moved things into the wardrobe when he’d first moved in with her. The force of his foot colliding with the box had caused the lid to pop off. A few things appeared to have also been knocked askew in the box. Not enough to have caused them to fall out, but they were poking up above the top of the box. He cringed as he bent down, hoping he hadn’t ruined anything of hers that held sentimental value.

The first thing he saw was a selfie they’d taken on a digital camera, going by his hair and their combined fashion sense, in their early teenage years. A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Pancho didn’t want to go snooping in Bree’s things, though, so he moved to tuck everything back into the box so the lid would fit. But something else caught his attention.

A piece of paper, folded and lightly yellowed with age, bearing his name in Bree’s handwriting. A letter of some kind?

Against his better judgment, he reached for the letter and unfolded it. The date was the first thing that grabbed his gaze. Bree had been in Honduras then. She’d written him a number of times during that time; what had made her not send this particular letter?

The answer to that particular question found him quickly, slamming into him so hard that he toppled back into an ungainly seated sprawl on the ground with a sharp exhale, back hitting the side of a nightstand beside the bed. Pancho had gone to visit her with the rest of the Ken.obis in Honduras. That was the first time they’d made the attempt to get past being friends who occasionally had sex. And they’d been very successful. Until Pancho had gotten back to the States and Bree went almost entirely silent a few months later.

She’d been pregnant. But considering there had been no baby, she’d never said a word about pregnancy, and that one video chat they’d had where she’d looked so sad. . . His stomach clenched, tears stinging his eyes as he took in a shuddering breath. She’d lost the baby.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that it took Bree’s voice coming from the doorway of the bedroom for him to realize she was there at all. He looked up at her with eyes swimming with tears. “. . . Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked, not trusting the stability of his voice at anything louder than a whisper.

[civitatum-corda]

closed starter for @misunderstoodcreatures​ || hp avocados

Though it’s far from the first time it’s happened, Foggy still feels the same lurch in his stomach when Matt stumbles through the door to his common room seeming to remain upright through sheer force of will alone. There are only a handful of his fellow Huf.flepuffs in the room and they all quickly clear out, hurrying off to their respective dormitories to give Matt and Foggy a moment of peace to deal with whatever trouble Matt’s gotten himself into this time. And also possibly to avoid eavesdropping on Foggy’s inevitable lecture if Matt’s not too badly hurt.

“What was it this time,” Foggy asks flatly, trying to cover up the way his heart is desperately attempting to beat its way through his ribs as he catches Matt before he ends up on the floor and guides him to the nearest armchair. “You have to stop doing this,” he murmurs, his own softness and concern betraying him as he sits on the footstool in front of Matt. “What hurts the most?” he asks, drawing his wand out of his robes. Going to the infirmary is, obviously, still technically an option. Madam P.omfrey is still safe. But the infirmary isn’t secure the way the common rooms are and the risk that one of the C.arrow siblings will walk through the door is too high.

[freedompersonified]

hello hello! holy wow, it’s been awhile. life has been… a lot lately. but things have stabilized to the point where rp is now manageable and desirable for me to return to! this is the good news.

the bad news (kind of bad news kind of not, i guess) is that i’ve been gone and not writing for so long that the thing that makes the most sense to me to do right now is to completely make a fresh start. and by fresh start, i mean dropping all my threads. like, all of them. this doesn’t mean i don’t want to write with any of my partners whose threads i dropped. on the contrary! i very much want to write with you! please hit me up! 

in the meantime, i will be revamping this blog and my multi as well as writing starters (maybe? we’ll see how it goes) and blocking the ridiculous surge of p0rn bots in my follower list!

[civitatum-corda]

artificiallyimplantedmemories​:

starter for @civitatum-corda : Foggy

     Matt is still tucked in bed, resting from last night’s patrol, and Natasha is well aware that he’s supposed to be at work in… oh, ten minutes. It’s not like this is completely unusual, for him not to show up on time, dragging himself in an hour late looking like he’d been hit by a bus, but seeing as the man is not critically injured, Nat has taken it upon herself to grab a bunch of pastries and drop it off at the office with an apology on his behalf. After all, he wouldn’t have gone out on patrol the night before in Natasha hadn’t been doing so, so it was indirectly her fault that he’d gotten hurt and was now possibly going to be missing a client meeting. 

     She let herself in, placed the bag on the desk, and called out. “Hey Foggy! Matt’s running late so I thought I’d bring some treats and see how you were holding up. Is life treating you okay?”

Foggy arrived at the office early, enough so that he was the first one there. It was far from unusual. And, lately, was also less mystifying and concerning when Matt was several minutes to an hour or so late and looking beat to hell. Rather than assume and worry that he’d managed to do something clumsy and entirely un-Matt-like, Foggy chose this morning to capitalize on his alone time in the office to make coffee and start writing himself a to-do list on the small whiteboard on the wall beside his desk, all while humming with off-key abandon. If something was truly wrong, someone would’ve gotten in touch with him. Knowing other vigilante-types were out there, if nothing else, put him at ease regarding Matt’s physical well-being. Well. More at ease. The idea of his friend getting into life-threatening situations was never going to sit entirely comfortably with Foggy.

When he heard the door open, the humming ceased and he poked his head around his office door to see Natasha. “Hey, Natasha!” he said, fully exiting his office to greet her properly. “I kinda figured he might be. You didn’t have to bring anything,” a glance at the bag revealed she’d stopped at one of his favorite places, “but who am I to turn down a gift? I can offer you some thoroughly mediocre coffee in return, if you’ve got a minute and want any. I’ve got a corporate firm giving me the runaround on discovery like no one’s business, but otherwise, life’s been pretty good lately. How are things going for you?”

[civitatum-corda]

misunderstoodcreatures​:

@civitatum-corda​ happi.est season done right

       Being back home wasn’t something Matthew did often but sister Mary had insisted. Christmas was a particularly shitty time of the year for him and ever since father Lantom had passed away it was considerably worse. But there were end of year parties with sponsors and donors and the church and their old home needed all the money these big pockets could spare and he was one of the poster children for the orphanage. 

        Since he was home he decided to make the most of it and took sister Mary and a few of the kids out to dinner to this fancy place. The kids were mesmerized by all of it and Matthew wanted them to see there were other things they could get to do, that yes, not having a family was shitty but that they could also be each other’s family. It was silly but it was all he felt he could do at the time. 

         When one of the kids needed to go to the bathroom, he offered to go with him and that’s when he bumped into him: the asshole that had made his life living hell all those years ago. In hindsight however, Hector had done him a favor. Matt knew deep down than between the catholic upbringing and all his insecurities he wouldn’t have come out unless someone pulled him from that closet but the way it was all done… It was just wrong. 

         Standing very still (since they were blocking the bathroom door) he gave Hector a nod and a very fake smile, “Hector.”

Hector returned the nod with an equally wide, fake smile, gritting out, “Matt, hi.”

Foggy tried his hardest to hold back the shock in his facial expression, schooling his face into a carefully neutral, pleasant one instead. Was this. . . that Matt?? The Matt that happened to be a rather contentious ex-boyfriend of Hector’s? It was a relatively common name, after all, it was perfectly plausible that Hector happened to know more than one Matt.

“Foggy, this is Matt,” Hector said, because apparently this situation needed introductions and not to just be ended as soon as possible. “Matt, this is Foggy, my--”

“Roommate,” Foggy blurted out before he had the good sense to stop himself. “I’m his... roommate. We’re friends, just, uh, acquaintances, really. But, friends.”

“Oh, please stop,” Hector hissed in his ear, grinding Foggy’s flustered stammering to an abrupt halt. 

As soon as they had edged their way past Matt with awkward goodbyes and the door to the restroom was securely closed once again, thus rendering Matt out of earshot, Foggy rounded on Hector. “Was that the Matt?” he asked, putting a hand on Hector’s arm.

Hector shook his head, eyes wide as he said, “Okay, that one really wasn’t my fault. I swear.”

“Yeah, great,” Foggy said, more to himself than to Hector, shaking his head, “maybe one of your exes will be bringing out dessert.” He was careful to distance himself an appropriate amount from Hector as they returned to the table and Foggy would be, once again, forced to try to get through dinner with Hector’s family and ex-girlfriend, Karen, without any more disasters. He’d just have to remain as silent as possible. He was just Hector’s awkward roommate to them after all, right?