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lostmymind-0 · 3 months

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Sugary sweet | LN4 x Piastri!Reader

Words: 2420

Warnings: diabetes, passing out, hospital

Note: I am not diabetic myself but one of my close family members is, so I wrote this off of how it is for them. I do know that it can be different for everyone and please tell me if I got something completely wrong 🙏

Part 2

Lando theoretically knew that it was wrong to have a crush on his teammates sister. He knew that he should not hope for her to be at every race. He knew that it could destroy the friendship he had build with the young Aussi. But Lando could not help but admire Olivia Piastri, the twin sister of his teammate Oscar Piastri. The young girl was an engineering student and did an internship at McLaren, following their engineers and learning directly from them. The first time Lando met the young girl was at testing in Bahrain, where he also found out that she was Oscar’s sister. Both Piastri twins were rather quiet and introverted but Oscar was the more extroverted one even if not by much. Olivia only seemed to really talk when it was about the car and the engineering side of it. She barely chatted with others but instead watched what was happening around her. He mostly sees her when she is shadowing Andrew Jarvis or Will Joseph at race weekends. He tried to make conversation with her but always got interrupted by eighter an engineer, his coach or Oscar.

The Miami GP was the first time Lando got the chance to really talk to the young girl. It was a shitty race for both drivers and the mood in the garage was not too good. Everyone tried to figure out a way to improve the car for the next race in about twenty days. “How is the team treading you?”, Lando asked Olivia as he joined her to take a look at the data. Confused did the girl turn her head to the brit, looking at him with wide eyes. “Are you talking to me?”, she asked, her voice quiet. “Yeah, there is no one else here. So how is everyone treading you?”, Lando joked and repeated his question while leaning against the counter. “Good…everyone is nice to me.”, the girl admitted with flustered cheeks. “Good to hear that. What do you say to the data?”, “The wear on the tire is a bit much and the aerodynamics are also not too good.”, she said quietly. Looking at the data and recalling the race Lando agreed completely with her. They talked a little more about the car and data before Lando lead the conversation a little bit more to personal stuff. To her own surprise did Olivia felt pretty comfortable talking to Lando. Sure she also felt pretty flustered every time he looked at her but she just hoped he would not notice that. “Liv! Where are you?”, Oscar’s voice interrupted the two as he walked up to them. “I am here, Osc.”, the girl told her brother who looked his teammate up and down, trying to see what he was planning. “We are supposed to eat together, remember?”, he told his sister who nodded. Saying goodbye to the brit the twins left.

“How is your sugar? You seem a bit sweaty.”, Oscar asked his sister as soon as they were out of hearing from Lando. “I am fine. A bit high but I am going to correct once we are in the car.”, Olivia told her brother after scanning the small sensor that was hidden by her papaya shirt, with her phone. “How high?”, “232 mg/dL. But like I said I am going to correct it as soon as we are in the car.”, she told her brother but he was not satisfied. “That is pretty high. Why did you not correct it earlier?”, “Osc, my pump broke and I have to correct manually so I had not the time to do so. I am fine, stop worrying.”, the girl told her older brother by twenty minutes. Grumbling something Oscar accepted the answer and lead his sister out of the paddock. He had tried to get her to tell the team about her diabetes but the girl refused. She hated it when people asked her questions about it or treated her different. She also did not want to appear weak, as it was hard enough for a girl in this industry. Being disabled would not help to be taken as serious as a man, so she kept it to herself. It worked out well for now. No one knew, aside form Oscar of course.

As the race in Imola was cancelled due to flooding did McLaren call every one into the factory to try and solve the problems from Miami. The engineers worked their asses off to try and find solutions. Olivia was there the entire time, helping the engineers and learning from their work. They worked for hours on end when Olivia forgot to check up on her sugar levels. She already knew she was low. The fogginess in her brain and the feeling of being dizzy told her that she was in fact very low. But she could not go right now. They were going over the data with Lando and Zack right now. She tried to listen to what everyone was saying when her vision got cloudy. Right as she wanted to say something to Lando did her speech give up. “Lan…”, was all she got out before passing out. Panicked the brit caught her before she could hit her head on the floor. “What the fuck?”, Zack asked and ordered someone to get Oscar as well as calling an ambulance. Laying her down Lando kept her head in his lap, trying to wake her up. “Did she say anything about being not well?”, Zack asked the engineers she had been following. “No, everything was fine. She seemed tired but we all are so we thought nothing about it. Plus you know how quiet she is.”, one told Zack who nodded. Not long after did a panicked Oscar ran into the room. “What happened?”, he asked and kneeled down next to his sister and Lando. “She just passed out.”, Lando told his teammate, nodding Oscar asked, “Where is her phone?”. Looking around Zack found it on the table behind them. Handing it to Oscar, everyone watched the Aussi as he unlocked it and held it against her arm. A beep appeared before Oscar cursed. “What is going on, Oscar?”, Lando asked, worried about the girl he was holding onto his lap. “My sister is diabetic. Her blood sugar dropped very low, that’s why she is passed out.”, Oscar explained and Lando as well as everyone else was quite shocked to learn this. “Why has she not said a word about it?”, Zack asked the Aussi right as the paramedics walked in. “She wants to be taken seriously and worried that she would not be seen as serious if anyone knew about this.”, he explained and then explained to the paramedics what was going on. They gave her an emergency glucose shot and checked her sugars while waiting for the glucose to work. After about fifteen long minutes did Olivia regain her consciousness. “It is okay. Everything is fine.”, Oscar told his sister as she was still disorientated and unable to form words. Together with Oscar did the paramedics took her to the nearest hospital to monitor her and make sure she does not drop this low again. Lando followed them close behind as he could not stop worrying about the girl. “You like her.”, Zack noticed as his young driver was about to get into his car. “Who?”, “Olivia, you like her.”, Zack repeated. Looking at his boss the brit was unsure what to say. “Go and see her. OH, and Lando, tell her.”, Zack laughed before returning into the factory.

Oscar was not surprised to see Lando walking into his sister’s hospital room. She was asleep and stable right now. Her sugar level slowly getting higher. “How is she doing?”, Lando carefully asked. “She is doing fine. Her sugar is getting higher. Come sit down, she should wake up in a bit.”, Oscar said and patted the chair next to his. “I still don’t understand how this happened.”, Lando admitted, blaming himself for not noticing anything. “She most likely forgot to eat anything while working as well as checking her levels. So she slowly got lower and lower.”, Oscar explained, knowing how focused his sister could get. The two were living together as they went together to boarding school and then also moved together after. “And how did she not notice anything earlier or someone else?”, “She can get very low and still function some times, so it is very hard to tell from the outside. Especially if you don’t know. She most likely knew that she was low but thought she could make it a bit longer.”, “How low was she?”, Lando asked, curious. He did not knew a lot about diabetes but wanted to learn as much as he could. Thinking Oscar said, “Under fifty for sure. Her sensor just said low so it had to be below that. I would guess around 30. Maybe a little lower or higher.”.

After what felt like an eternity for Lando, did Olivia woke up. “Where am I?”, she groaned and sat up a little, now noticing the brunette sitting next to her brother. “In the hospital. You passed out from being low. Again.”, Oscar kind of scolded her, but the truth was that he was always worried about her and her wellbeing. Nodding the young girl tried to remember what happened exactly. “Please tell me I did not pass out in front of Zack and all engineers? Please, Osc.”, she whined, remembering where she was and what she had been doing as she passed out. “I am sorry but you did. I am going to get you some food and a nurse.”, he claimed and left his teammate and sister alone to talk. “You freaked me out, Pastry.”, Lando stated, making the girl blush. “I am sorry. I did not plan this.”, she mumbled, feeling a lot more shy as she was alone with Lando. “I think you also freaked out everyone else. But how are you feeling?”, Lando said and sat down next to her, where Oscar used to sit. “I am better. I should have taken care of my sugar level earlier. It is embarrassing to end up in the hospital because of this. Even more passing out in front of my boss. Do you think Zack will fire me?”, she now panicked. Chuckling at her panic Lando took her hand in his and calmed her down, “Zack wont fire you. No one is going to take you less serious now. Everything is good, love.”. Heat rushed into her cheeks as she heard that nickname. “Thank you, Lando.”, she whispered and looked at him. His eyes were beautiful as well as the little smirk he wore on his lips. “Do you like what you see, love?”, Lando teased her, leaning closer. As she turned her head to avoid his piercing look did his warm, big hand cup her cheek. Turning her head to him. Tension grew as they both slowly leaned into each other. Like magnets. Lando did the last step and closed the gap between them. Connecting their lips in a kiss. Slow at first to give her the chance to back out. To his surprise did she not back out but instead grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. His hand was in her hair by now, holding her close to him. “What the actual fuck!?”, someone yelled, making the two jump apart. Lando almost fell off the chair as he turned to the door. There stood Oscar. A tray with food in his hand and a giggling nurse behind him. “Osc…I…we…”, Olivia stuttered completely flustered. Lando on the other hand tried his best not to giggle. The girl he had the biggest crush on just kissed him back so his ego was a little blown up. “I think I need to bleach my eyes out.”, Oscar stated dramatically as he put down the food next to his sister on the table. To everyone’s luck did the nurse intertwine, “Miss Piastri how are you feeling? I assume better?”, “Yeah…I feel better.”, Olivia said and bit her lip to try not to blush even more. “I am glad to hear this. We are going to check your sugar level one last time before we let you go.”, the nurse said and tested the sugar level one more time. It was almost completely back to normal. “Okay, we are going to keep you for about an other hour and then you are free to go home.”, the nurse said and left the three alone.

The hour was the longest in Olivia’s life. To say that it was awkward to sit in the room with your crush, who just kissed you and your brother who walked into said kiss when they were teammates was not the most fun. In hopes of help did she even text her mother. But due to the time difference did she not answer her. “Can we please address this? Or I am dropping again due to anxiety.”, Olivia finally said. Both boys looked at each other before looking at her. “Do you have serious intentions with my sister?”, Oscar asked Lando. It was not what Olivia had expected Oscar to say but it was a start. “I do. I really like her.”, Lando told him, in a tone Olivia did not knew from him. it was very serious and not a hint of sassiness in it. letting out a very long and overly dramatic sigh did Oscar say, “Fine. I will not say anything against this if my sister really likes you, what I think as she kissed you, but the moment you hurt her will I push you into the wall with my car. Now if you excuse me. I still need to bleach my eyes.”. With a kiss on the forehead did Oscar left Olivia alone with Lando. “So we both like each other. How about I take you out on a date? We can go out as soon as you are free to go.”, Lando said excited. Smiling a little Olivia took his hand telling him, “I would love to go on a date with you but I think I don’t have the energy to go out right now. How about we stay in and maybe watch a movie or something like that? Or game?”, “You game?”, Lando asked surprised. Feeling a little shy again she admitted, “A little but not on stream or anything.”.

Part 2

#formula 1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #ln4 fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #f1 x own character #f1 fiction #f1 #f1 x oc

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vaspider · 5 months

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My question about the AIDS crisis, I'm mostly asking you because like I said, I don't think I was googling the right things, so even if you could just suggest some things to google that would be more likely to get me answers, that would be really helpful.

I guess it's mostly how did AIDS (and to some extent, any STD) become so widespread? I know that it spread through sexual contact and shared blood, but can you really "six degrees of separation" (god, that sounds so flippant, but i genuinely can't think how else to describe it) a chain of sexual partners and shared needles through any two people with HIV in the entire world? Maybe it's just because I'm a bit of a hermit, but while I can understand how it was so devastating once it was already widespread, I guess I'm having trouble understanding how it got such a foothold in the first place. If the first person with HIV had happened to not have a lot of sex would the AIDS crisis never have happened?

I swear I have absolutely no judgement for people that like to have a lot of sex, maybe I just have an underestimate of the amount of sex the average person has because frankly I don't have any? So I hope this doesn't sound disrespectful or anything, it's just kind of hard for me to believe those "six degrees of separation" kind of things in general when it's not like, famous people, so the realization that theoretically any two people with the same STD, on different parts of the globe, would have this string of sexual partners connecting them almost feels like there has to be something I'm missing... But when I'm googling things like "how did HIV become so widespread" and "how do STDs spread" I'm just getting things about how you should use protection and histories of *where* HIV spread rather than answering this more specific question (probably didn't help I was trying to do this research at 1am)

I mean this as kindly as possible:

What is your proposed alternate theory as to the spread of a disease which is transmitted through contact with blood, semen (and pre-seminal fluid), rectal and vaginal fluids, and breast milk? The disease does not spread through saliva or through touch which does not involve those fluids.

There are relatively rare cases of HIV spread through accidental needle sticks - according to WebMD, there are approximately 385k accidental needle sticks among health care workers per year in the US. WHO says that .7% of the global population has HIV, so for some back-of-the-napkin math, at most, you'll have about 2,700 of those needle sticks involving someone with HIV. Since (again, according to that WebMD article on accidental needle sticks), in cases of an accidental needle stick where the patient has HIV, the health care worker only has about a 1 in 300 chance of catching it (as opposed to 1 in 3 for an unvaccinated person catching hepatitis B via accidental needle stick from an infected patient). So - nationwide - you have approximately 9 people per year catching HIV from a needle stick.

And, to be clear, that fucking sucks. However, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, in 2022 there were approximately 14.7 million health care workers in the US. Not all of these people have equal risk for accidental needle sticks, but there's only so much research I'm gonna do for rough math to answer an ask on Tumblr.

The average US health care worker has approximately - again, based on my back-of-the-napkin math - 0.00000544% chance of contracting HIV from an accidental needle stick. It's astronomically more likely that a random health care worker will die from tripping over an extension cord or breathing in a caustic chemical than that they will catch HIV.

The chances of getting HIV via blood transfusion before we started routinely testing for it were all but assured if you got blood from someone with HIV. Testing now is so stringent that you have about a one in two million chance of getting HIV from a transfusion. The last recorded case I could find was in 2010, and before that, it was 2002, and the 2010 case happened in part because the donor lied about his risk profile and often participated in anonymous and unprotected sex with partners of multiple genders. He really shouldn't have been accepted as a donor at all. Approximately 4.5 million Americans receive blood transfusions per year, so, like, nowadays, it is excessively unlikely, but even in the 80s, it was an edge case means of infection, not a main source of pandemic spread.

A breastfeeding parent with a detectable viral load has about a 15% chance of transmitting HIV through breast milk. Likewise, HIV can be - and was - transmitted to babies during birth because of contact with vaginal fluid or blood, but, again, these relative edge cases are not the things pandemics are made of.

I want to stress that I am not in any way minimizing the absolute tragedy of the AIDS crisis, and I am not dismissing the fact that these methods of transmission are possible and did cause significant disruption to blood banks, stress for pregnant people with HIV, and so on. They just simply are not major methods of transmission, and never were.

With all of that said... what is your proposed alternate method of transmission, with these facts in hand? What do you think happened? Genuinely, this question is so baffling to me.

I think it's important to understand that before the emergence of HIV, most of the STIs we had were at that point either considered an annoyance (warts, HPV) or were extremely easy to treat and cure (syphilis, once a death sentence, became basically a non-issue for most people in the US as long as they were getting tested relatively frequently, and most other common STIs even today can be cured with a single course or even a single dose of antibiotics).

With that in mind, a lot of people, including a lot of queer people, were having a lot of unprotected sex. For people who could become pregnant, the advent of the pill and access to legal abortion meant that they didn't have to become or stay pregnant if they didn't want to, and for cis gay men, the prevalence of antibiotics meant that the vast majority of STIs were a brief inconvenience at worst.

So allo people did one of the things that allo people (and some ace people!) love to do:

They fucked. A lot. They fucked without fear of much consequence in terms of infection, and because it was much riskier to bring someone home where you could be seen, a lot of gay men cruised, fucking in parks or in literal back alleys or the bathrooms of clubs. They worried about getting arrested or getting caught and having their names in the newspaper much more than they worried about STIs. Sex workers, including trans sex workers, fucked in cars or hotels or... wherever the money was, because survival sec work is ... survival.

So... yeah. What is your proposed alternate theory, here? I am truly baffled at what you think otherwise happened, given a disease with a very narrow route of infection.

#hiv #aids

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patrophthia · 1 year

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do not make him ‘go away’ | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x hufflepuff!reader

genre: literally just fluff and comedy (bc i love turning dark morally grey character into soft babies), superrrr self indulgent, not beta read.

word count: 4.6K

originally posted on wattpad: a while back lol

"i got knocked off my feet not amnesia."

the corner of his lips perked up at her comment, such a small motion that she almost didn't notice.

"i'll keep that in mind." and then, with a disappointed look thrown at malfoy, riddle asked her, "is he bothering you?"

"kind of," she answered slowly, not trusting where this conversation would go. "why?"

riddle ignored her question, opting on following up with his own instead, "do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

or the trope simply the trope of grumpy reluctant boyfriend and bubbly/fun girlfriend.

she had always loved defense against the dark arts. don't get her wrong, the classes and lessons were always great. professor thea was good at her job, teaching them both the theoretical and physical studies that is needed from the subject.

but now, as she landed flat on her butt, she hated the subject more than she could ever imagine. malfoy was a terrible dueling partner, taking every possible chance to knock her off her feet.

"do you want me to go easy on you badger?" he asked tauntingly, towering over her.

she looked up at him —half expecting for him to offer a hand but he only smirked at her. "you're a dick."

"i sure am." he only watched her struggle with amusement.

there was a scoff from besides him and within a split second he was being nudged over. replacing him was the head boy, leaning down to look at her with furrowed eyebrows. he offered her a hand; one which she took and lifted herself up.

she muttered a quick thanks, not sparing him a look whilst she busied herself with wiping soot off of her clothes. looking back up, she found him gazing at her.

"what's your name?" he asked after a minute, watching her with skepticism.

"[name]?" she replied, unsure. he knew her name, surely he did, they had partnered up during sixth year for a potions project and he can't have forgotten it in the span of one year could he? "i thought you already knew that."

"i did." riddle pursed his lips, nodding to himself. "i just wanted to make sure you knew your name."

she scoffed, giving him a dirty look. "i got knocked off my feet not amnesia."

the corner of his lips perked up at her comment, such a small motion that she almost didn't notice.

"i'll keep that in mind." and then, with a disappointed look thrown at malfoy, riddle asked her, "is he bothering you?"

"kind of," she answered slowly, not trusting where this conversation would go. "why?"

riddle ignored her question, opting on following up with his own instead, "do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

if it were anyone else she would've laughed it off as a joke but tom riddle has this ominous thing about him, one that put you slightly on edge, making it seem as though he would actually follow through with his threat.

so —as annoying as malfoy was, she told him. "no." and then, slightly terrified that she would wake up tomorrow with the news that abraxas malfoy had mysteriously gone missing, she added as a precaution, "don't kill him."

she wasn't sure if she was joking or genuinely scared that riddle would do it for her sake. no matter how much he would deny it, to her —he seemed like a feminist, never failing to hand detentions out to male students who mistreated girls. so killing his cult follower for a woman wouldn't be far from how she characterized of him.

"not unless i'm dying then you can kill him."

it was barely a month later when the same occurrence happened; malfoy was her dueling partner once more, malfoy shot her a spell at her that had her landing on the floor, malfoy mocking her for apparently being a 'weak' dueler, riddle pushing him over and offering her a helping hand.

asking her, "can i kill him now?"

to which she replied, without fail. "no."

riddle gave her a dissatisfied look but kept his hands off of malfoy nonetheless, respecting her request.

why he listened to what she said, she couldn't answer.

not until he asked her to call him tom (or maybe something else a significant other would use), not until tom asked to be her boyfriend, not until tom reluctantly agreed to trail after her on a trip to hogsmeade with her friends.

it seems as though tom could never say no to her.

"are you ready?" she asked, peeking her head inside of his dormitory's door.

tom whipped his head around from where he stood in front of his mirror, looking less than excited to be going out today. "yes."

"great," she tried to stop herself from squealing, pushing the door open so she could approach his side. "i can't wait for you to meet them, they think i'm lying to them about you."

tom fully turned himself to face her, giving her a once over and taking in how she looked.

pretty.

as always.

he felt something flutter in his chest, pride for having her? excitement in finally going to honey dukes after hearing so much about it? the hope of being able to convince her to let him make malfoy go away? love?

no it can't be. he was conceived after a love potion, he can't love. feeling slightly frustrated with himself, tom grumbled, "stop looking at me like that."

she furrowed her brows, curious by what he meant. "like what?"

"like you have feelings for me."

"tom," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose out of irritation. "i'm literally your girlfriend, i'm supposed to have feelings for you."

tom blinked. her telling him that she was his girlfriend shouldn't have felt as good as he did. what the fuck is wrong with him. defeatedly, he muttered, "i'm breaking up with you."

"yeah sure you are."

•••

"so how long have you been going out?" rae asked, acting oblivious as if [name] hadn't told her every single detail about their relationship.

she smiled, nudging for tom to answer.

tom took a deep breath. a response that rae was silently hoping for after hearing about just how grumpy and moody tom was from her friend. trying to tease him without doing so much as saying anything provoking.

he then smiled, turning on his charms in order to converse. "five months and thirteen days."

trying to get under her boyfriend's skin, [name] frowned, feigning confusion. "five months?"

"yes." tom cleared his throat, glaring at her. "and thirteen days."

"is that right?" rae questioned, trying to irk him. "[name] told me you've only been together for three months."

the slytherin turned to her, his face showing offense. "you did?"

"i love the weather this morning," she said instead, trying to distract him.

yet tom was persistent, he knew they were having a laugh, he wasn't daft, but it certainly didn't feel good to hear rae say what she said. "did you?"

"merlin isn't it crowded today?" she ignored him, looking out the carriage's window as it pulled to halt. she opened the door, landing on solid ground before looking back to where she was sat. with a tilt of her head, she signaled for them to exit as well. "what are you waiting for?"

tom sulked as he got off the carriage, a small pout on his lips. "are you going to answer me?"

she looked down the streets, seeing it packed with people from left to right before turning to him, letting her hand find his and interlocking it. "no."

tom felt a urge to pull his hand away, not used to PDA but it felt so right, so right that he went against his better judgement and mumbled something so stupid he mentally facepalmed himself. "why are you touching me?"

she only giggled in response, noting the confuse tone he had instead of being vexed by his words. "so i wouldn't lose you. you can't expect me to keep track of you with this many people around, can you? i can't lose my boyfriend."

not when he was a dark wizard who was constantly reminded that killing people is a morally wrong thing to do. "what if you start finding people to join your little fan club?"

having to tell him to not use the basilisk for salazar slytherin's quote-unquote unfinished business was hard enough for her to handle, let alone telling forty —maybe even fifty others, that it was a wrong action to take.

maybe it was her 'i can fix him' mentality but in all honesty, tom has been behaving way better ever since they'd gotten together then aragog has all year. and yes, she knew it was wrong to compare a human to an acromantula but when the said human was conceived under a love potion and has no real concept of what love is.

if he was as good as a spider, he was good to go.

"you say that like i'm evil," tom murmured, barely audible due to the loud chatter hogsmeade provided.

"you're not?" she countered incredulously. "didn't you say you wanted horcruxes despite knowing what it takes to make one?"

"yeah but . . ." he trailed off, finding himself at a loss of a word. "i didn't end up making one, idiot."

what an endearing nickname. "that doesn't make it any better, tom. you still thought about it."

"but i didn't make it."

•••

being head boy brought tom gossip. whether he cared for it or not, it always follows him. he had heard every rumors there was, knowing them thoroughly from start to finish. tom never bothered to care about them, not until he found himself becoming friends with a group of girl who would talk their heads of about anything.

with a "come in!" from his girlfriend, tom opened the door to her dorm room. he shut it behind him, eyes roaming around to try and find her. finally his eyes landed on where she sat by her desk, head low, crouching over a long strip of parchment.

"walburga and orion are betrothed." he stated, standing by her side.

"what?" rae screamed before she could, power walking out of the bathroom with her tooth brush in hand. "the blacks?"

"who else," tom said with a roll of his eyes.

that caught her attention, she turned to him, curiosity written all over her face. "aren't they cousins?"

"they're pure-bloods, inbreeding is in their genes," came octavia, [name]'s dormmate and friend who was nicer than rae would ever be. then, with a look of distaste, she added, "how could they force an engagement on orion? he's literally a fifth year while walburga graduated last year. it's disgusting."

"well," rae snickered, "what else would we expect from the black family?"

"i also caught macmillan and weasley are snogging on my rounds today," tom said, sitting down on his girlfriend's bed. "asked me to keep it a secret but there's only so much to be kept in the chamber."

rae chortled, hand covering her mouth. "you know, in my native language they would call you ប្រុសមាត់ក្តួយ (pronounced pros-moit-kdouy)."

[name]'s brow knitted along with tom's, narrowing their eyes at rae. "what does that mean?"

rae only giggled, sitting up on her bed with octavia listening it. "it technically means 'a man who can't keep his mouth shut about drama' in khmer but the literal translation is a guy with a vagina for a mouth."

"what the fuck." tom muttered, eyes wide. the three girls in the room bursted out laughing, that must've been the first time they'd ever hear him curse. "why would you call me that?"

"because you are," rae countered.

"i'm not!" he argued, "you just called me a labia."

"she never called you a labia," came [name] from his side, "you called yourself that."

"i-" tom paused, unable to tell if he himself was angry, annoyed, amused or disgusted by their conversation. "i don't like you guys anymore."

"you're welcome to leave any time you want," rae quipped, gesturing towards the door. "or find new friends."

octavia changed the topic, done with their bantering and told them about a story with a guy she'd met. apparently they'd been going out for a total of three months, keeping it a secret, before he cheated on her.

she was mad at him but he made it seem as if it was her fault; telling her that what she heard was true but he couldn't stop about thinking them. and he knows that she's been there a few time as well, insinuating that octavia could ever do something as wrong as cheating.

there was a look tom shot his girlfriend when octavia finished recalling everything that happened between her and chris marsh.

[name] sighed, knowing why exactly he gave her the look and shook her head. "no."

"but-"

"no buts," she interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose with frustration, "you cannot kill him. we talked about this tom."

"i know but he's hurting her," he pointed out, "and she's your friend so. . ."

"tom please," she pleaded, "no killing is justifiable unless one of us in danger with actual death."

"promise me i won't wake up to find out that marsh is missing."

"i promise that you won't wake up to find out that marsh is missing," said tom defeatedly.

•••

tom looked ridiculously stupid, he knew that. he sighs, feeling rae smearing wet paint on his face. the things he did for his girlfriend.

if you were to go back in time to tell tom riddle that he would be sitting on a chair getting his face painted black and yellow for a quidditch game, he'd think you were having a laugh and cast a killing curse at you.

but now, being told repeatedly to, "stay still you pesky snake" by his girlfriend's friend as she watched the two of them interact without the smallest hint of jealousy, tom —he would never ever in a million years admit this— couldn't be happier.

there was such a soft domestically about it, him getting along with her friend without the urge to kill rae or for rae to kill him, knowing that they were friends who just liked to threatened one another was more than anything tom could ask for.

he felt good, despite the uncomfortableness that came with donning a different set of colors. he (surprisingly) didn't care that he wasn't dressed in green in silver, being more than happy to be supporting her.

after finally being let go by rae; tom stood up, facing his girlfriend. with a tilt to his head, he asked her, "i thought i could be very persuasive until i met you."

"never thought i'd be going to quidditch game, let alone support another house." his eyes then glanced to a mirror that stood besides her, taking in his own appearance. salazar, rae must be taking the piss, he looked like a clown. eyes shifting back to her, he asked tiredly, "are you happy now?"

"i am if you are," she responded, taking a step towards him."i'm not," tom grumbled truthfully, not hiding a single ounce of annoyance. she shrugged, smiling. "that's too bad, i take back what i said. i'm happy now."

the three made their way out of her dorm and into the hufflepuff's common room to meet up with octavia. tom eyes quickly roamed the room, surprised by how many of the students who were spending their time there was from another house.

from his quick scan, tom had managed to count a total of five slytherins. three of which who were visibly miserable, face painted yellow with their friend or significant other beaming besides them. and the other two, being the ones who were forcing face paint onto their ravenclaw and gryffindor friends.

no matter how much time he'd spent welcomed in the hufflepuff common room. tom would never understand how they could be so comfortable with letting anyone enter whenever they pleased. that would not flow well with the slytherins.

up the great hall they went, passing the grand entrance before leaving the castle entirely and making their way to the quidditch pitch.

with a kiss on tom's cheek, an action that had his eyes widening and face flushed red, she bid him, rae, and octavia a goodbye before making her way into the changing room.

rae led the way towards the stands, fighting with tom about where the appropriate seat for him would be.

"no not in the slytherin section," rae argued, trying to find the best place for their group of three. "how could you be the head boy and be so stupid?"

"you're sitting in the hufflepuff row where your girlfriend would be looking for support from," she said with a tone of obviousness, finally settling down at a place she found best suited for the three of them. "honestly."

the match ended quickly, she'd had spotted the snitch within the first thirty minutes of the game before she started her pursuit and caught it in the next four minutes.

gryffindor lost by a hundred and ten points and without consciously knowing it, tom found himself cheering loudly for her, his voice was overpowered by rae but it was the thoughts that count.

there was a flash from his side, he turned, finding octavia giggling with a polaroid in hand. she wordlessly offered it to him. tom took it, curious as what he would find on it.

the picture developed bit by bit, revealing tom in frozen cheerful state, eyes bright as he watched the scene before him, his forehead was yellow, his mouth gaping with its corner tipping upwards. behind him was rae, on her feet with her hands pressed against the railing, frantically screaming at something the picture couldn't fully depict.

"you're not keeping it." octavia told him. "it's for [name]."

octavia then slipped a hand into her pocket, picking out a new picture and handed it to him. "you can have this though."

inspecting it, tom found a picture of himself frowning on his girlfriend's bed. she sat besides him, laughing as if her life depended on it, her head was thrown back, a hand clutching onto her stomach.

tom pocketed the picture, smiling to himself. "when did you take this?"

"when she told you to not make marsh 'go away'."

•••

graduation came and tom was quick to ask her to move in with him. she was skeptical at first, reasoning with him that neither of them had jobs that provided enough for them to have a financially stable home, but that idea was shot down when tom told her that the ministry had already reached out to him.

offering him a job that would let them live a comfortable life. they moved in together shortly after, finding a small cottage that looked perfect for the two.

she was able to turn her hobbies into a job, making her more than just happy. by 1950, tom —with all his slytherin ambitions— found his way to the top, earning the position of minister of magic.

it was late when tom came home, having to run over a last-minute case that malfoy presented him. he shrugged his coat off, trying to be quiet as to not wake his (still) girlfriend up. tom found his way into their bedroom where he found the en-suite door wide opened, he walked forward trying to take peek.

inside was her stood in front of the mirror, taking off her make up with a cotton pad when she spotted him, her eyes shifted to him for a second before turning back to herself. "how was work?"

"it was good," he answered, tugging at his tie. and then he furrowed his brows, lip tugged underneath his teeth. quietly, he muttered, "let's get married."

she blinked rapidly, not believing her own ears, she whipped around with a small noise of confusion, facing him. "what did you say?"

"let's get married," he repeated casually, finally getting his tie off. "are you proposing to me?" she asked him."yes." he nodded. "i thought that was clear."

"so yes or no?"

the wedding took place two years later, with it being repeatedly postponed due to tom's work but it was perfect nonetheless. they had friends and coworkers (that they actually liked) at the ceremony. rae teased tom endlessly, not once giving him a break for taking so long to propose.

in 1959, octavia invited them to dinner at her house, her and husband having an announcement for them all to hear. but before she got to the good part, octavia told her about some of the not-so-good news.

her husband, dawn, was recently bitten by a werewolf. he was having a hard time experiencing the transitions during the full moon so they had a request for them.

now here comes the good news along with her favor: octavia was pregnant, she was four weeks long and since it was only her and dawn.

she will be needing help.

"that's all?" rae asked, frowning. isn't it already implied that rae, her, and tom would all help her when she'd gotten herself knocked up? "you know you needn't ask right? i will be spoiling that child rotten."

octavia smiled, feeling relief. why did she even feel nervous in the first place? these were her friends, the same ones who collectively bullied every man she's ever broken up with. they will always have her back. "that's all."

and then she added, "i just thought it might be a burden to you guys. it's just- it will be hard since dawn would have to recover from the full moon and i'd have to work, so i need people who i can trust to babysit the kid sometimes."

"you could never be a burden," [name] said, "not when i can be the cool aunt."

"oh please," rae let out a loud cackle, "you would never be the cool aunt. that's me."

octavia gave birth on november, 3rd, 1959 to a lovely girl named clementine calla azure. the same day that the blacks welcomed their first son, sirius orion black. rae (would lie if you ever pointed this out to her) was ecstatic when clementine turned out cuter than the black's son did.

she, liked she had stated months prior, spoiled the child to death. buying it everything it could possibly want, babysitting it every time octavia even looked like she needed help.

octavia —instead of using the time to relax, spent her time creating a wolfsbane potion. making the potion was a tedious process but she had more than enough time from tom changing clementine's diaper because he, despite being forced, had promised that he would also help with her baby.

rae was an author who made enough for herself to live lavishly. apparently, muggles really love the story about a dark wizard trying to kill a little kid for his chance to be immortal.

"so," rae clapped with clementine prompted on her hip. tom, dawn, octavia and [name] were all scattered around the living room, sitting down and listening to rae as she stood. "you're probably wondering why i called you all over."

there were noises of confirmation before rae started up again. "i've been doing some research lately and there's more people who has been involuntary bitten than you would think. basically what i'm saying is that tom —since you're the god of magic or whatever— needs to draw up a new bill where werewolves would be known by the ministry and themselves only so the ministry can provide help."

"werewolves tend to have a hard time finding work and keeping the job since they would have to recover every full moon and miss work days. the potion octavia created is going to be recorded in the history book, we know that, but something else that should be recorded in history is how the lovely tom riddle —who i definitely like and doesn't want to have a one v one with— made a law or whatever, where if a werewolf is legally signed in with the ministry, they get a wolfsbane potion provided by the ministry by owl every month."

"they're extremely costly rae, and they take a ridiculous amount of time to make." dawn was quick to point out the flaw, understanding this topic more than anyone else in the room. "not to mention how there's millions of people like me out there, we won't be able to get them to everybody."

"tom is like the zeus of magic," rae said, slightly irritated that they didn't just agree right of the bat. "if he just created a lab and put twenty of the best witches and wizards in there with large pots and get it brewing, they can make it work. and as for the products needed, there's always herbologists that needs work —not trying to stereotype but most of them are hufflepuffs, they would take the chance to help without even thinking twice."

"it will work, trust me," rae said, almost pleading, "what do you say, riddle?"

the law, or bill, or whatever it was, was put into place shortly after. werewolves were scared and skeptical at first, always having been labeled as monsters until eventually people started piling in for help and they were given what they needed. octavia loved her new job at the ministry for it meant she could be helping out her husband and everyone like him whilst also having the freedom to invent whatever else she wanted.

"tavia brought clementine to work today," tom stated, making his way into their library. "so i've been thinking."

"oh no," she muttered, dropping her book onto her lap, "you never have good thoughts after seeing clementine."

tom tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. "what do you mean?"

"last time you saw her, you decided that it was a good idea to have your basilisk follow after her when she grows up so she'd never get hurt," she answered, looking up at him as he stood before her.

tom shrugged. "i don't see any flaws in that plan, if anything i think it's the best thing for clementine."

"how can you be the minister of magic and be an absolute dumbass?" she laughed, feeling his hand reach down to rest on her cheek.

"because, i'm not," he said easily, eyes focused on hers, "and believe it or not i actually have a brilliant idea that you might actually like for once."

"alright," she muttered, amusing him, "what is it?"

"i think clementine should have a cousin."

"clementine already has a cousin—"

"that's not what i meant, idiot," tom cut her off, a small smile etching on his lips, "you know exactly what i'm trying to say. don't play dumb, pet."

"i actually don't know what you meant," she said matter-of-factly, feigning innocent, "please explain."

tom sighed. "i want us to try for a baby."

"i thought you hated kids."

"i do," he agreed, "but i also know that i wouldn't hate them if they were ours."

— from bee: this was very OOC but idc,,, fluffy tom or no tom ever (i have the i can fix him mentality)

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x yn #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x hufflepuff!reader #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle fic #tom riddle crack #Spotify #🧳: my writing

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mrcaptainrex · 9 months

Text

When We Are Worms.

Pre-Order-66!Crosshair x F!Reader (No Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing, because Crosshair. Sleepy-Grumpy Crosshair. I can't imagine Crosshair being a lovey-dovey guy, so he's awkward and kind of a grumpy bitch. Sorry not sorry.

Summary: Crosshair and his lover talk about their theoretical life as worms instead of getting much needed sleep.

A/N: Yes I did just write a one-shot where worm-life is a metaphor for freedom. I hate how proud I am of this.

_________________________

Being a clone was a shitty way to live. Being an experiment was even worse. From the moment Crosshair was "born", he was raised on the expectation to be perfect. He was never allowed privacy, or a good meal, or even the chance to choose his own passions. He hated it. He hated that no matter how much he hated it, he couldn't imagine what else he could do. He wasn't exactly fit to be a cook, or a mechanic, or any other boring civie job. He had come to accept that no matter how much he wished, he could never be anything but a clone. A soldier. Property.

But not to her. To her, he was everything. A loving man who was good, smart, and funny. A man who she could imagine loving in any galaxy. A man who, if not for their unfortunate circumstances, she would have already married and taken far from this war.

Moments like this made it all worth it. Moments where his brothers were out, and it was just the two of them alone on the Marauder on a cool night. Where she lay next to him with her head on his chest, resting quietly while his hand stroked her bare arm. Moments where, for a second, they could be a normal couple. No war, no politics, no intruding-brothers. They were just two lovers, enjoying the presence of each other and the comfort their silence provided.

They were both beginning to drift into much-needed sleep when she broke the quiet.

“I just thought of something.” She said, lifting her head off his chest as if she had reached a brilliant conclusion.

“How unfortunate.” Crosshair mumbled. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

She thought for a moment, and then settled back onto his chest to look into his eyes. “Cross?” She asked quietly.

She only received a sleepy hum in response.

“You love me right? No matter what?” This finally got some of his attention. His eyes opened and met her own with confusion.

After a moment to come up with a sarcastic comment, he settled for, “It would appear that way, mesh’la.” He seemed satisfied with his nonchalant answer and laid his head back on the pillow, allowing his eyes to close once again.

“What if I was a worm?”

By now he accepted that he wasn’t going to sleep for a while. His eyes snapped open, with a furrowed brow and confused look in his eye. “What?”

“Would you love me if I was a worm?”

“Why the fuck would you be a worm?”

She couldn't help but giggle at his response to the illogical question.

“I dunno, weirder things have happened.” She thinks for a minute, trying to imagine a plausible scenario that involves turning her into a slithering creature. “What if one day I’m cursed by an evil witch, and I’m condemned to worm-dom for the rest of my life?”

Crosshair hums sarcastically, as if what she’d suggested was just as likely as getting an ingrown toenail. “Depends. Am I a worm too? It’d feel kind of zoophilist if I were still human.”

Despite the absurdity of the conversation, his words made her heart swell. She lifted her head from his chest and propped herself up on her elbows. “You’d want to be a worm with me?” She gasped.

He found it odd that such a conversation could still leave her enamored with him. He swore he could say anything and she’d still find the sweetest meaning behind it. Then again, she saw the good in everyone.

“I mean.. I would prefer it to being a human in love with a worm. What if I stepped on you?” She was sure she’d never been more in love with him.

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.” She whispered, placing a kiss to his nose.

“Clearly I need to step up my game, then.” She settled back onto his chest and continued imagining their lives as a squiggly object. As Crosshair finally allowed his eyes to drift shut..

“Where would we dig our hole?”

A sigh. “Seriously?”

“I’d want to dig it by the lakes on Naboo. Peaceful, moist..” While she was in dreamland, he grimaced at the repulsive ‘m’ word.

“Naboo would be a horrible idea. Tech told me Gungans use worms as garnishes. Alderaan would be better. It’s easier to raise wormlets when they’re not being eaten.”

She could have sworn she felt her heart stop beating for a few moments. "Wormlets?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, whatever the fuck baby worms are called."

He turned his eyes from the ceiling to look at her. To his surprise, he could spot tears in her eyes. Immediately, he thought he had overstepped. "I-I'm sorry. I know kids aren't.. can't happen for us."

She shook her head and blinked her tears away. "No! No, I'd love that. I just.. Well, I didn't know that was something you wanted.. Do you?"

A sorrowful sigh escaped his lips. "Maybe one day." He stretched his neck to place a chaste kiss to her hair. With as much love as he could muster after the exhausting events of the day, he whispered to her, "When we're worms."

He never thought he would say that to his lover..

"When we're worms." She repeated with a smile on her face. Satisfied, she snuggled closer to his chest and allowed herself to sleep.

Crosshair, on the other hand, found himself too pleased with the thought of the future to allow him to sleep.

One day, when the war had ceased to exist, or at least ceased to involve them, they would become worms, and dig their happy hole, in the softest of dirt, and safest of fields. Someplace where they could have as many wormlets as they want, and where no crow or gungan could disrupt their peace. One day, when they become worms, they would live as the happiest worms that ever squiggled. He was sure of it.

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year

Text

JUST HOW FAST THE NIGHT CHANGES (part 4)

A/N: surprise update!! i was able to sneak some writing in today at work and i didn't want to hold onto the part once it was finished, so now im posting it before going to bed hehe but anyways, enjoy!

WARNING: discussion about miscarriage

PAIRING: Harry x High-School-Best-Friend!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

SERIES MASTERPOST | SUPPORT ME!

You never really had any trouble paying attention at meetings, but today it feels like torture to listen to your group leader tell about an upcoming project. Normally you’d be taking notes, but now your document is awfully empty in front of you, almost mocking you for being a mess.

It’s been your constant state since dinner at Harry’s.

It totally flipped your world upside down and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it every waking moment. You still have no clue what’s gotten into you to tell him about Drew and everything that happened, you hate talking about it, but with Harry it felt kind of… natural to open up. He gave just the type of comfort you’ve been seeking for a long time and you’d have never guessed it would be him to make you feel this way.

And when he pulled out the beads from his wallet? You were absurdly close to start sobbing again.

How are you supposed to go on from this point? Where are you even heading? Harry came back to your life kind of abruptly and judging from his invitation he is planning to stay this time. You have your fears and doubts about him still, you know you shouldn’t just jump right into this new situation so easily, but… part of you is desperate to be selfish and do what feels the best.

“Y/N?” your team leader’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts and as you look up from the screen you notice that almost everyone has left the room.

“Oh, s-sorry… I got distracted a bit,” you mumble, shutting your laptop and gathering your things.

“Is everything alright?” Nadine approaches you with genuine worry in her eyes.

She might be your boss, but she’s been more like a friend. She knows what you went through and instead of adding to your plate for not being able to do as much work in the tougher times, she was right there to help you through it, giving you all the tools to keep you going and keep your job as well. You’re eternally grateful for that.

“Yeah, I’m just… a bit all over the place,” you huff out a chuckle.

“If you need a few extra days off, just let me know, we can try to make it work.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” you assure her. “Just had an overwhelming weekend, is all.”

“Alright, let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure, will do. Thank you,” you smile at her before heading towards the door, but before walking out, you stop and turn back. “Just theoretically, if I were to work fully remotely for a bit, like a few weeks, would that be okay?”

She looks up from her notes and nods.

“Of course. You know you have the chance to work from home as much as you want still.”

“Thanks.”

It came out of the blue, how you asked about full remote work. Harry’s invitation has been itching your brain since Friday and it seems like you’re starting to get familiar with the thought of it.

You spend the rest of the day tucked away in your little corner cubicle, trying your best to focus on work. Your stomach growls violently when you finally stand up from your desk and get ready to leave. Your mouth waters when you think about dropping by your favorite sandwich place on your way home, but for some reason you’re not a fan of having dinner alone tonight.

And before you could even think about it, you’re texting Harry.

Y/N: Do you have plans tonight?

By the time you pack your stuff and head out of the building you already have a reply to your text.

HARRY: Nothing in particular, but I feel like it’s about to change. :)

Y/N: Want to grab dinner with me?

HARRY: Absolutely, I’m on my way.

Y/N: I haven’t even said where.

HARRY: Doesn’t matter, I’m on my way.

You laugh at his text as you shoot him the address to the sandwich place before you’re off on your way as well.

Harry has a skip in his step as he rounds the corner from the parking lot. He actually had plans for the afternoon, some work he needed to take care of but there was no doubt he would trade it to have some time with you.

The sandwich place you invited him out to seems small, not too crowded or popular, but if you like it he knows he will too. You’re already by the front door when he arrives, approaching you with a goofy smile.

“For a moment I thought you weren’t coming,” you chuckle, as he greets you with a warm hug.

“Of course I came, I would have been stupid not to,” he simply answers and you ignore how your heart just skipped a beat.

He smiles when the guy behind the counter greets and calls you by your name. You order your usual as always and Harry chooses the Very Veggie one before the two of you take a booth in the corner, tucked away from prying eyes.

“Okay, oh my God, this is very good, now I understand why it’s your favorite place!” He moans with his mouth full right after the first bite of his sandwich.

“You had doubts? I’m offended!” you gasp dramatically, to which he just grins.

The conversation almost picks up from where you left it off last time. Even though you’re out in the public this time, he is able to bring the same kind of comfort that held you at his place. It’s a lot lighter, the heavy stuff is off the table, but it still feels just as important.

“So did you think about coming to Palm Springs?” he asks with a smirk as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Mm, I did,” you shortly answer.

“And? What do you think?”

“Why do you want me there so badly?” you ask with a sigh, though a smile is playing on your lips.

“Because I want to see you on my birthday,” he simply answers with an innocent shrug.

“You survived your last ten birthdays without me.”

This could have sounded offended, but it’s not the case, you’re cheeky and it was just some teasing, luckily Harry could tell too so he doesn’t take it to his heart.

“And it was so horrible!” he gasps dramatically, making you laugh. “All my favorite birthdays are the ones I spent with you!”

“So you haven’t had a good birthday in a decade? Poor thing!” you play along.

“See? You can’t let me have another bad birthday!” He even pouts his lips at you, giving you the puppy eyes which just makes you laugh again as you shake your head in disbelief. It’s good to see that he is just as persistent as he was before.

He doesn’t want to push you too much, doesn’t want you to feel like you can’t say no, so he is ready to drop the topic when you surprise him.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks, eyes widening. “W-what do you mean okay?”

“I’ll go to Palm Springs with you.”

It takes a couple of moments for him to register what you just agreed to, but when it finally sinks in he can’t control his happiness.

“Yes! Fuck yes!” he throws his hands up into the air, as if he just won the lottery. There are only two other people in the shop, they give him a weirded out look, but he ignores them all, eyes glued to you over the table. “Okay, I’ll take care of everything, you don’t have to worry about anything, it’s gonna be so good!”

“I have to move a few things around at work though, so it’s not entirely certain, alright?”

“Sure, let me know if you need help with anything. I’ll send you over everything about the traveling and all, okay?”

“Okay,” you chuckle lightly, touched by the enthusiasm he is showing you.

You stay a little longer before heading home, Harry insists on dropping you off and secretly he also wants to know where you live. It’s a simple neighborhood with similar townhouses lining the street, he can totally picture you walking around, coming home from work or going grocery shopping.

“So when can I see you again?” he asks, parking down in front of your place.

“Why are you always asking me this?” you chuckle.

“Because I want to see you,” he admits without shame, completely oblivious to what it does to you.

You can’t deny the romantic feelings you have for Harry, maybe it’s what’s left from the past, maybe it’s something entirely new. It doesn’t matter. It’s something you haven’t experienced in a long time and because of what happened to you not long ago, you’re not entirely sure what to make of it.

“I’ll call you. Or you can call me too,” you smile shyly before leaning over the console and giving him a little awkward side hug before getting out of the car.

He watches you jump up the stairs and open the front door, turning back you wave at him one last time before walking in and shutting the door behind you. He drives away with a lovesick sigh.

Since last time it was you who invited him out, he thinks it’s his job to take the next step. And he’ll gladly do it.

He’s been thinking and planning what to do next, dinner, museum, casual hangout, he’s thought of it all by the point Friday rolls around again and he knows he needs to up his game and not waste any more time. So Friday morning he texts you.

HARRY: Hey! Do you want to watch a movie tonight? We can order food and everything.

He doesn’t expect an immediate reply from you, he goes on with his day as usual, but keeps checking his phone, only to see no message from you. When lunch time rolls around he starts to worry. He doesn’t want to be a bother, maybe you just have too much work to do, but he still wants to know you’re alright.

So against the anxious voice in his head, he calls you sometime in the afternoon when it’s been way too long since his text.

The line rings and rings, he starts to think he will not get an answer, but at last you pick up.

“Yeah?” Your voice is weak, kind of sleepy and might be even pained, he can’t tell just from this one little word.

“Hey, it’s… it’s me, Harry,” he starts, unsure if you even know he is the caller. “Is everything alright? Did you see my text?”

He doesn’t want to be pushy, but he can’t rid himself of the worry that’s crawling up his spine as there’s a long pause on the other end of the line.

“Um, I saw it. I just… don’t think I can do it tonight.”

“Are you alright? Not to be rude or anything, but you sound… kind of sick?”

“I’m not sick, I… I can’t tonight, I’m sorry.”

Now he is on full alert mode, he knows something is off and he can’t just let it go.

“Do you need help with anything? I can do grocery shopping or I could just cook for you, anything, Y/N, just let me know.”

There’s silence on your end again, until he hears you sniffling and he knows he won’t be able to keep himself out of whatever it is.

“Can you come over?” you then ask, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“I’m on my way, do you want me to bring anything?”

“No, just…”

“It’s okay, I’m on my way, Y/N.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Harry runs a few red lights probably and gets to your place in record time. You texted him earlier that you’d leave the front door open, so he pushes it in without hesitation and walks into your home, frantically looking for you.

“Y/N? It’s me, Harry!” he calls out not to scare you.

“Here!” you answer weakly and he starts running in the direction of your voice, finding himself in your tiny kitchen.

He would never tell you this, but you look like crap. It’s obvious you’re not feeling well, your hair is a mess, your face is paler than usual, a fluffy blanket draped around your shoulders as you’re holding a heating pad, that you must have just filled with warm water. It instantly clicks what the matter is.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he softly asks as he approaches you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Like shit,” you mumble under your breath.

“Are you hurting more than usual, or…?”

“It’s… it was always bad painwise, but… since my miscarriage it’s really hard mentally too,” you admit, refusing to look up from the tiled floor.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

You nod and he keeps a hand on your back as he walks you back to your bedroom, lifting the covers so you can climb in, curl up and then he tucks you in as you hold the heating pad to your stomach.

He shuffles back to the kitchen without a word, starts the kettle as he searches through your cabinets to see if he can make you something to eat.

“Here. Do you need some medicine maybe?” he asks, playing the mug on your nightstand.

“Already took some.”

“Alright. Try to sleep, okay? I’ll stay, let me know if you need anything.”

You fall asleep listening to Harry moving around outside your bedroom. You don’t even have the energy to worry about him seeing your messy home.

You have no idea how late it is when you wake up, but it’s dark outside. Your cramps are gone,the heating pad has cooled down and your mouth is ridiculously dry. The door is left ajar and some dim light is coming through the crack, illuminating the mug you remember Harry left on your night stand, the once hot tea is not room temperature, but you chug it down eagerly before getting out of bed.

First you go to the bathroom and then you start looking for Harry, finding him on the couch in the living room, the TV is on, but the volume is so down, it’s almost on mute. It seems like he is right about to dose off, you almost turn around and let him sleep, but then the floor creaks under your feet and his head snaps up.

“Hey! You’re up,” he softly says, sitting up straight as you join him on the couch.

“Yeah. What time is it?” you ask, rubbing your eyes as he checks his phone.

“It’s half past ten. You slept for like, four hours.”

“Ah fuck,” you exhale, pulling your legs up as you lean against the back of the couch, facing Harry. “You’ve been here all along?”

“Yeah, I made some soup for you, cleaned the kitchen up and I fixed the tap, it was leaking. I’ve been just watching TV for the past hour.”

“Wait, you fixed the tap?” you ask, eyes going wide.

“Yeah.”

“Y-you didn’t have to do that.”

“Y/N, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. How are you feeling?”

“Better. I’m sorry you got stuck here while I was sleeping.”

“I wasn’t stuck,” he shakes his head. “And I’m always happy to spend time with you. Even when you’re not awake,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Thank you. It’s good to see your heart is still the same.”

“I try to keep it at the right place,” he smirks and thinks how part of it is with you, so it will always be at the best place possible.

“You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine,” you say, your head resting on the back of the couch.

“Do you want me to stay?” You hold a short pause before nodding shyly. “Then I’ll stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Can’t be more sure. So, what are we doing? Want to watch a movie?”

“That would be great.”

You start some random movie on Netflix and as time passes by you migrate closer to each other until your head is resting on his shoulder and he has an arm around your curled up frame. You happily bask in the comfort he radiates, it makes you forget about the crisis you went through just hours ago.

It has happened before. This time of the months has been rough on you, a reminder of what you lost so it’s not only painful physically, but it takes a toll on you mentally as well. The past couple of months you spent the first two days curled up in a ball, crying your eyes out until you were able to function again.

With Harry by your side the pain has faded faster than ever, his presence created just the right amount of distraction for you to move past this hard point quickly.

When the movie ends you start another one, but you talk over that mostly, it becomes just background noise. You have no idea when, but at one point you fall back asleep. When you wake the next time the TV is still on, Netflix is trying to recommend you shows to start watching so the movie has ended a long time ago. Beside you Harry is snoring lightly, his head tipped back, lips open slightly.

However creepy it is, but you give yourself a minute to just stare at him. You haven’t been able to take a good look at him without meeting his curious gaze.

You see so much of his old, teenage self, but they are laced with maturity and change as well. His sharp jawline is impressive compared to the round cheeks he had as a young boy. His bone structure is a lot more defined, manlier, but you recognize his old self in the slope of his nose, the way his eyelashes curl against his cheeks and his lips are the same shade of pink still.

It slowly dawns upon you how fast things have changed and now you have him back in your life when just weeks ago you weren’t even talking.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way, you realize. You have such a strong connection with him, one you haven’t experienced with anyone else, not even with Drew.

Harry stirs in his sleep and a few seconds later he blinks his eyes open, trying to process what’s happening around him.

“Hey,” you smile at him softly.

“Hey. We fell asleep?” He clears his throat.

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

“Late,” you answer simply.

“Give me a minute and I’ll get going, I promise,” he sighs, closing his eyes again.

“Or you could just stay,” you suggest, surprising even yourself with the offer.

He blinks open one eye, then the other, as if he was waiting for you to take it back, but you’re not planning to.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Come on. My bed is comfier than this couch,” you chuckle, patting his chest gently before pushing yourself up.

“Y-you want me to sleep in your bed?”

“I don’t have a guest bedroom. You can stay on the couch, if you don’t want to sleep next to me,” you shrug, trying to look like it’s a whatever situation for you, but your heart would definitely break a little if he didn’t want to share your bed.

Luckily, he is on the same page as you.

“The bed is fine. Perfect actually,” he nods eagerly, as he stands from his spot, he turns the TV off and then follows you into the bedroom.

It’s unusual, but also feels completely comforting to get under the covers with Harry, like you’ve done this before. You both stay on your side, not mingling, but it’s still such an intimate moment you’ll probably never forget.

“Good night, Harry,” you whisper in the darkness and even though you can only make out his silhouette, you just know he is looking at you.

“Good night, Y/N.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles oneshots #harry styles fluff #just how fast the night changes

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dwonfilm · 1 month

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Come hell or high water. | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Looming over the Winchesters and [Y/N] is the war between heaven and hell. Dean will ultimately be faced with a choice he’d never be able to make. What will happen?

This will be a multi-part story, not necessarily set in a specific season but around 4-5 would be the best fit.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Mentions: Sam Winchester, Lucifer, John Winchester

Warnings: Lots of angst, sadness, etc, supernatural level violence mentioned, injuries

Here’s Part III if you haven’t read.

Flashbacks are in bold.

Part IV:

“I’m here to inform you, Dean Winchester, that you’ve got an incredible choice on your hands. One that will alter everything you stand for and everything you believe in—a choice that will tear you apart inside until you’re asking to be Michael’s meat suit.” [Y/N]’s stomach dropped hearing this, because that meant it was something bigger than even her intuition could’ve imagined. “Yeah? What’s this ‘important choice’ then huh?” Dean asked, Sam watching from the other side. He had just as bad a feeling about this as [Y/N] did—neither had any chance to speak up though, Lucifer answering immediately. “It’s simple really. You, oh you’ve got the choice of who gets a one way ticket to pain and suffering. Dean Winchester, it’s your decision who gets sent to hell here today. Little Sammy-boy..” he paused, gesturing towards the younger of the Winchester brothers. “or..” Dean’s heart was racing, knowing exactly what was coming but dreading having to hear it said aloud. “..your beautiful, so very beautiful, girlfriend [Y/N].”

It had been several minutes since Lucifer dropped the biggest bombshell imaginable on the three hunters. Dean’s ears were ringing, the only other sound in them was the rapid beating of his heart. Silence had befallen the room and to the devil? This was hilarious. It made it better that despite any worries, truly none of them could’ve seen it coming. Eventually the silence became too much and he couldn’t contain the humor he found in one of the worst situations Dean had ever been put into—bursting out laughing to break the silence. [Y/N]’s heart felt like it was beating once per minute, much like she was dying a slow and agonizing death, when it fact it was racing so fast it would alarm anyone. Sam’s eyes held a mixture between anger and pain, knowing that even asking this question was damning enough.. but all three knew that Lucifer meant it. No, this wasn’t a sick theoretical scenario to throw off the hunters. It wasn’t a bluff, this was a very real situation that none of them could’ve expected. It wasn’t something that even crossed their minds to happen today, or ever if honesty was in question. “Oh c’mon, why the long faces?! I mean, at least one of you will always be nice and toasty warm!” Lucifer was having a blast, finding even more humor in the reactions of the humans standing before him. Sam was the first to react, the anger taking the forefront. “What even is the endgame here Lucifer? Why would this need to happen?” He asked, eyes glancing towards his older brother and his sister-in-law by principle. He felt his heart breaking for all of them, himself included. Again this had Lucifer tilting his head back in laughter.

“I already told you, Sammy-boy. You two are far too resistant to your true purpose. A lot of your brother’s resistance is found in that beautiful [Y/H/C] haired girl standing next to him, so, I offered the choice to cut one of those lifelines because I am insanely generous.” Dean instinctively moved to stand in front of her when she was referenced by the fallen angel, not wanting Lucifer to even glance at [Y/N]. She grabbed the back of Dean’s suit jacket to steady herself and also as a way to confirm this wasn’t a nightmare. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t happening because when she grabbed the fabric nothing around her shifted. Squeezing her eyelids closed trying to hold the emotion inside, she didn’t need Lucifer seeing any kind of breakage. “I’ll go.” Dean said, almost quietly. Sam and [Y/N] opened their eyes widely at this and a silence hung in the air again for a moment. “Mmm.. no. See we’ve already had you Deany, and since your little angel on speed dial busted you free.. we don’t want you. You also can’t say yes to my idiot of a brother if you’re in the cage.” Lucifer explained. “And I can?” Sam instantly fired back, venom dripping from his words. “I mean.. you could because I would be oh-so close. Torturing you until your mind broke and you finally gave into the truth—you need to say yes and so does Dean.” Now the devil was getting irritated, eyes dancing along the three hunters in front of him. “I’m not doing this shit, this is bullshit.” Dean said, getting a little louder probably due to the irritation levels rising within him. “Oh but you have to, see this isn’t just a theoretic questionnaire. If you don’t choose, I will.” Lucifer replied, staring directly into the eldest Winchester’s eyes.

Silence again fell over the room, tension and emotion threatening to spill at any second. “Tick Tock, Winchester. I don’t have all day.” It was clear despite any form of annoyance that Lucifer was loving this entire situation. [Y/N] grips his jacket still, so tightly that her knuckles are turning white. Every bit of her is willing this to be someone kind of dream. Whether she’s asleep, whether they’ve been captured, she just needs this to be anything but reality. “You can’t just sling these kinds of things around Lucifer.” Sam thought aloud, which drew a dry laugh from the fallen angel’s lips. “I can’t? Who exactly is gonna stop me? You three?” He replied, wearing a shit-eating grin because all three hunters knew that they couldn’t stop this. No one could. It was the biggest abuse of power in a world where god couldn’t care less about what happened. “You really want to go to war with your brother that badly?” Sam pushed, taking a step towards the devil himself. “Why? What is that war gonna change? Even if you win, you really think the rest of the angels are gonna let you walk out freely?” Sam continued, emotion in every piece of his tone. Almost pleading to the humanity in Lucifer that he knew probably didn’t exist but he needed to try something. Dean couldn’t do this, it would tear him apart from the inside just like Lucifer wanted it to do.

“It’s the fate of the world and it’s the fate of the both of you—you think bargaining with the fucking devil is gonna change anything? You think that’s gonna work? Whether the three of you like it or not, this is exactly how the world works. There’s no fighting against the machine. There’s no changing fate—there’s simply delaying it and the more you delay it the more it’s gonna hurt when you lose everything and everyone that you’ve ever loved.” Lucifer had taken a step closer to Sam and they were practically face-to-face. “We don’t believe that! You can’t deny we’ve changed outcomes already, you think we’re gonna just stop there and submit to you?! Submit to this bullshit fate that you stand here preaching?!” Sam’s emotional side was spilling over into the angry side and he felt the tears welling up in his eyes. Lucifer had anger dancing in his own, staring a hole into Sam’s face when all of a sudden.. breaking the tension he.. laughed? “I see what you’re doing Sammy-boy, ah, you almost got me.” He laughed harder and shook his head. “No more distractions, no more dragging it out.” Lucifer now shifted his attention back onto Dean. “Now, back to the task at hand. Spotlight is on you Deany! Make your selection.” He teased, the enjoyment now finding its way back to the fallen angel’s facial features.

There was that uncomfortable silence again, settling over the musty room. Dean’s heart hadn’t stopped its heavy beating since Lucifer’s plan had been revealed to them. Now his palms felt a little sweaty, knowing that this was something that likely was happening. None of them seemed to have any kind of plan to weasel outta this one—which only meant one thing: someone was going to hell alongside Lucifer. Dean swallowed harshly, slowly looking between his brother and the love of his life. How was he supposed to make a decision between the two people who meant the most to him? Choose one of the two people that kept him going to face the torture, pain and suffering that he’d endured not too long ago? Said pain and suffering that he hadn’t even fully processed yet. Subtly his gaze moved between Sam and [Y/N], sighing as his brain was trying to compute having to make such a choice. He knew that’s why Lucifer had chosen this, because there was no way this kind of decision would be anything other than cataclysmic to his psyche. [Y/N] turned towards her boyfriend and saw the pain in his eyes—that one glance into his green hues and she was feeling every bit of agony that was swimming between his ears.

No matter the wits that the trio shared, it didn’t appear that they’d find a way out of this sick game Lucifer was playing. All of them were stressed and frustrated to levels that they’d likely never been before now. Maybe ones they’d never reach again. “I’m waaaaaaaaaaaaaiting.” Lucifer sang out to them. All three glared towards the fallen angel but that only made him chuckle more. “Ooooh so scary! Whatever will the Devil do?!” He spoke, tone mocking them and their situation. “Dude, shut up.” Sam spoke, exhausted. [Y/N]’s eyes had moved back to her boyfriend rather quickly after leaving Lucifer and they’d stayed there. Minutes had passed by and once again the dark, musty room had fallen into silence. Of course she couldn’t read minds but it wasn’t difficult for her to tell just how much pain this thought process was causing Dean. She knew he couldn’t make this call, he couldn’t choose between her and Sam. Nor should he have to choose. So, sighing, she knew exactly what she had to do. It wasn’t going to be easy, it was going to quite literally take everything she had.. but for Dean she would give it all twenty times over.

“I’ll go.” Her voice was quiet but the words echoed in Dean’s mind like they’d been blasted through surround sound. “What?” Sam asked, pain in his voice as he turned toward [Y/N]. Dean’s heart was beating even louder and he didn’t think that was possible. “Baby..” he finally spoke, his voice barely audible. Dean wasn’t even sure if he said it out loud until she met his gaze with an utterly broken look reflecting within her eyes. [Y/N] took the steps necessary to close all space between she and Dean, tears spilling from her eyes. Cupping his face within her hands and just staring deeply into the beauty of his green eyes that she always loved so much. [Y/N] wished that she could take all of his pain away in this moment, but she knew she couldn’t. No matter what went down today things would be altered for Dean for the rest of his life. “You can’t..” He spoke, hands clutching her blazer so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Now tears had begun slipping from his own eyes as he gazed at the woman he loved. [Y/N] wished there was something she could say to fix this, her heart being ripped from her chest would feel less painful than seeing this look in Dean’s eyes.

“Dean.. I’m not gonna let you make a choice between me and your brother. You’ve spent your entire life protecting Sam, you raised Sam, I know you wouldn’t send him to hell and I’m not mad at that. It’s one of the reasons I fell so hard for you.” She spoke, brushing her thumbs underneath of Dean’s eyes to wipe the tears away. “I love you, more than I have ever loved anyone on this earth. I know this isn’t what we wanted..” She sighed, trying to shake how utterly broken she was away from her voice. “I don’t want you to go..” Dean cried out, somehow gripping the fabric of [Y/N]’s top harder than he was before. “I know, my love.. I know. I don’t wanna go either but there’s no other way out of this.” She cooed, tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t forget me. Think of me and how much I love you every day. I’ll always be in your heart, okay? They can never take that away from you. I know this is gonna hurt baby, but you’ve gotta keep pushing for me too. Hey..” she cried, leaning her forehead directly against her boyfriend’s. “I believe in you, I have always believed in you. I will never stop believing in you, Dean Winchester.” She sobbed, the eldest Winchester’s hands finally releasing their grip upon the fabric of her blazer and coming upward to cup her face now. “Promise me you won’t give up. Promise me you and Sam will keep fighting this, keep saying no to this bullshit.”

“I promise.” He sobbed, keeping his eyes on her and not moving them for a second. [Y/N] immediately crashed her lips into his, the rest of the world melting away. Nothing surrounding them but empty space and their love. Each of them clinging to the closeness they shared, hands on their lover’s face and keeping them for the longest time they could. “Alright, let’s go. I’m bored.” Lucifer spoke up with annoyance in his tone and that broke the magic of their kiss. Heaviness was surrounding the group now, Sam approaching the two of them. “Love you, Sammy. Please take care of him.” [Y/N] sobbed out, reaching one hand towards her brother-in-law’s face. “I promise I will, [Y/N/N.] Love you too.” Sadness was seeping through the younger Winchester’s voice too. Tears slowly running down his cheeks. “I said hurry up.” Lucifer ordered to which she snapped. “You’re dragging me to hell for no good fucking reason, I’m going willingly so shut the fuck up and let me say goodbye.” Dean sobbed and hearing that word. Sam backed up again, letting his brother and [Y/N] have their final moment. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” She spoke, looking directly into his pained emerald eyes. “I love you more, [Y/N] [L/N].” He cried out, knowing this was the end. Slowly they let each other go. She turned towards Lucifer with a scowl and took one step, but immediately turned back to Dean. Quickly her hand flicked to the back of her neck and she unclasped the necklace that Dean had given her for their three year anniversary. Inside the locket attached to the chain were two photographs. One was the first photo they’d ever taken together, which was inside when he’d gifted it to her—the second was one they added not too long ago. It was after Dean had come back from hell and they’d begun cherishing every moment more than they already had. No one could’ve predicted that such a short time later, they’d be here. That they’d have to be saying another forced goodbye. Slowly [Y/N] slipped it into his hand and closed it into a fist so he wouldn’t drop it.

Sam had taken a couple steps to his brother and placed his own hand on his shoulder, squeezing in an attempt to ground him. He wasn’t sure that would even help, but he needed to try and do something. He needed to make sure that Dean knew he was there for him, which of course he would, but in the moment things were going to get ugly. Emotions would fly and Sam needed Dean to know that he wasn’t alone. Lucifer grabbed [Y/N] by the wrist and within the blink of an eye they were both gone. Dean clutched that locket tight and fell to his knees, screaming and crying out the most heart wrenching noises that Sam had ever heard. It was very similar to when Sam had died in his arms, but of course, the younger Winchester didn’t witness that.. [Y/N] did. Slowly, Sam lowered himself to the ground and got on his knees too, pulling Dean into a hug while all the elder of the two could do was sob violently. They stayed there for what felt like years, until Dean couldn’t physically sob anymore. Now? He was just silent. Sam had managed to drag his brother out of the building, they walked a little ways and finally Castiel could get to them. Naturally the angel was confused when there was only two, Sam having to explain what had happened. Cas just looked at Dean with sadness, but Dean’s gaze hadn’t left the ground. After figuring out where they’d been, Cas zapped the brothers and the impala back to the motel.

Sam had entered the room first, just wanting to lay down but his heart sunk again. There, just where they’d been left, sitting all across the room were [Y/N]’s things. Dean, who’d been quiet the whole time, began sobbing again seeing the remnants of their life before Lucifer had torn it apart. He didn’t care about what he was wearing or how long he’d been in it, he just crawled into the bed and grabbed his favorite flannel—well his second favorite. [Y/N] had stolen this one and wore it all the time so he needed to find a new favorite but god, it smelled just like her and he needed it right now. Laying down and putting it between his arms, he began silently crying and thinking about the day he met her.

“Hi, I’m Detective Bonham. Can I ask you a couple questions?” He’d approached the victims daughter. “Son that’s not necessary.” John spoke, which caused the young woman to turn around. “John?” She asked, clearly distraught since it was her father that had been the victim of murder. “Hey kiddo. I’m sorry about your dad.” He replied, approaching the young lady and giving her a gentle hug. “Thanks..” her voice was soft and emotional. John pulled away and Dean’s heart stopped then and there. His eyes finally saw the young woman and she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “This is your son?” She asked, he nodded and blinked a couple of times before snapping out of it. “Oh, yeah, hi.. I’m Dean.” He smiled, which made her smile too. Dean had extended his hand toward her and she took it, shaking it firmly enough. “I’m [Y/N].” John coughed, which worked to snap his son out of the daze he’d clearly been in since laying eyes on the woman. “I met her dad on a hunt years back. We weren’t overly close, most people in this life aren’t. However, whenever I’d have to come out to Arizona.. [Y/F/N] would help me out. I was always thankful, so when I heard what happened..” John trailed off, not needing to rehash the details. Dean’s face fell. “I’m sorry about your dad.” He’d said, gazing into her eyes with a softness reflecting in his own. “I appreciate it.” She replied and while she was obviously sad, there was a softness in her eyes too. John himself could tell that they’d felt their hearts sing that day, smiling just a little at how they were lost in each other.

Dean had known from the day he laid eyes on [Y/N] that he was in love. Sure, he’d fought it for a little while, mostly because he didn’t think he was worthy of anyone’s love and partly because he was young, dumb and needed to explore—least that was what he told himself. However that all changed when they’d been working a case without his dad and it had gone wrong.

“[Y/N]!! [Y/N] where are you?!” Dean yelled. He’d just successfully salted and burned the bones of a ghost that was killing people with family secrets, but not before it had launched [Y/N] against the wall. However she wasn’t where she’d hit, or where he thought she’d hit the wall, so he was frantically trying to find her. “[Y/N] I’m serious where the hell are you?!” He called after her, worried that it was the worst case scenario. “D-Dean.. I’m here.” She croaked out, holding her ribcage. Dean would’ve felt relief if he hadn’t noticed blood on her hand. “What happened?!” He asked, rushing to her side and kneeling in the grass. Dean gently pulled her hand away from her side so he could get a better look, immediately noticing the gash in her side that was bleeding. “Must’ve hit a part of the wall with some shit sticking out or something.” She replied, Dean ripping one of his extra shirts and quickly tying it around [Y/N]’s ribs. Without saying anything else, he picked her up bridal style and began walking towards the impala. “I’ve got you, babe.” He froze internally for a moment when he realized what he said, but instead of reacting negatively, she managed a smile. “I know you do.” [Y/N] replied.

Dean had stayed with her the entire time she was at the hospital, which had been a couple of days. After that? They were inseparable. At first there was no official label but soon enough, after that fight about him flirting with people for information, they’d been as official as official gets. Now he was alone in the romantic sense and it was already killing him. Sam just watched over his older brother, sadness written in every bit of his facial expression. He wanted to say something, anything to help his brother but he knew there was nothing that he could say. Right now, Dean needed to wallow and feel all of his sadness. It was something that broke Sam’s heart, both because of his personal relationship with [Y/N] and obviously for his brother. Mourning the person he loved more than anything in the world, he never expected he’d have to leave her side again.. or vice versa. When Dean was ready? They’d start looking for a way to bring [Y/N] back.

• —– ٠ tag list: @roseblue373 ✤ ٠ —– • ·

#dean winchester #dean x reader #fanfic #supernatural #dean winchester imagines #spn #spn imagines #dean winchester x reader #fanfics #dean winchester x female!reader

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samsayswhatever · 5 months

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Time in the TVA

It's crazy that Miss Minutes is a clock that doesn't tell time.

The TVA is outside of time. They don't NEED a clock in a place outside of time. There is no time. Right? AHH.

I know the theme of the show is time, so they just put in things that represent time to make us have that in the back of our awareness and everything, but the clocks can't be useful right?

In the image below, Mobius has a sand timer on his desk, but that is a very manual thing. It would become very offset over long periods of 'time.' But at least it works (as far as I know) because it is so simple.

In the image below, I've only see that clock show that time. But it's very hard to read because it has 12 lines coming out from the center.

The image above is basically saying that it's all time, all at once. Just in case you forgot where you were.

Which I suppose could happen with all the memory wiping that going on. Casey forgot what a fish was, so who knows. That place looks super empty. Maybe everyone forgot what pie was too.

Anyway, is there a way to measure long periods of time that we just don't get to see? There is no sun, or planet, so theoretically there shouldn't be days, or years.

They also don't show the TVA workers needing to take any kind of break to sleep, indicating there isn't a "daily" break to rest, that would at least help measure the passing of this non-time time.

But Mobius does say the phrase "We should pick this up tomorrow" so maybe there are days? Maybe they do sleep? Loki did take a nap once, so who knows.

If the TVA workers do sleep, do they have bedrooms? I think this is very important. Did Mobius have a bedroom? Did Loki? Any chance they could have bunked together??

But back to the time stuff, OB specifically said it had been 400 years. So like what's up with that? How many TVA years has this place been running for?

So I guess I'm also wondering, where the TVA is? Like it's outside of time, but we also have another example of something that is outside of time, but just at the end of it too.

So maybe the TVA is just at the beginning of time? Before the beginning of time, possibly?

Has time always worked in this infinitely branching way? If there was a time before time, would it be like the TVA and not have branches?

I think it makes sense that it would be before time, but that's just me.

These are just thoughts that are running with scissors through my mind, cutting up my peace.

#loki series #loki season 2 #lokius #loki #loki x mobius #mobius #loki mcu #loki laufeyson #loki mobius #loki season two #mobius m mobius #TVA time #tva loki #Loki time #miss minutes #miss minutes mcu #mcu oroboros #oroboros loki

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feybarn · 26 days

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Thanks for all the prompts you guys sent. I'm definitely not going to be able to hit them all at once. But I'm going to try to get to at least one or two a day...

Up first with @everfascinated's prompt.

It's Monday and I'm really feeling it lol Can Obi-Wan relax with your fav Jedi/Mando/clone? I'm working for the weekend, someone needs to just sit and read or have a nice day with people they love

Some Obi-Wan & Quinlan.

Obi-Wan glared at his interloper, currently looming over him and holding Obi-Wan’s datapad over his head. “What are you doing?”

“You are going to give me an ulcer,” Quinlan said. “Literally. An ulcer. I can feel it growing right now.” He pressed his free hand against his stomach and let out an exaggerated groan. “I never thought you were capable of such cruelty.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t amused. In the slightest. “I need to finish the report for my latest mission, Quin.”

“You need to take a break before you break down. This may come as a surprise to you, but things like fatigue and stress do affect you the same way they do the rest of us.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Quin. My datapad. Give it to me.”

Quinlan scoffed, turned off the datapad, and stuck it in his belt. “Not a chance.”

Obi-Wan had somehow forgotten just how supremely irritating Quinlan could be. How he’d managed to forget that was something of a mystery, because Quinlan was… Quinlan. Apparently the back to back missions he and Anakin had been sent on the last year were getting to him. He didn’t know why he was being ‘specifically requested’ so often, but he’d really prefer it stop happening. “What do you want, Quin?”

“I want you to relax. For an evening. That’s it.”

The thought filled Obi-Wan with longing. As it was… “I can’t.” He had already received a message requesting that he and Anakin prepare for another mission in three days, there was too much to do in the next three days to relax. Mace had been apologetic, but the request for Obi-Wan had come straight from the Senate.

Beyond that, he’d agreed to teach several hand to hand courses for the senior padawans—which was less hand to hand and more how to fight dirty—had several meetings with Senators from former missions, and a meeting with the council.

“You can, actually,” Quinlan said. “Aayla is inviting Anakin to join her and a few other padawans for a night in the holo-room for the night. Star gazing, supposedly, but we both know that’s just code for gossip. That means the two of us are free for the night.”

“I’m not going cantina hopping, Quinlan.”

Quinlan rolled his eyes. “Give me some credit, Obi-Wan. I know when you’re in a cantina hopping mood. I have deigned to suffer this evening, all for your sake, and we’re going to do something you consider relaxing.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, because this was sure to be good. Quinlan didn’t know the first thing about relaxing in a way that didn’t include chaos.

Obi-Wan would be lying if he said he didn’t at times egg Quinlan on, but he simply was too drained to do so.

“In this theoretical situation where I give in, what, exactly, do you plan on us doing?”

Quinlan’s expression shifted into one of exaggerated long-suffering. “We are going to watch the prime-time recording of the Phantasma Opera.” He shuddered. “I borrowed the recording from Windu and stole some tea from Depa and…” He paused for obvious emphasis. “I raided Siri’s kitchen for the little sugary monstrosities that you like. I risked my life for this evening.”

“Siri’s going to kill you,” Obi-Wan said. His mouth watered at the thought of the Alderaanian Delights Siri hoarded. “How about this, you give me those Alderaanian Delights and I get back to work. You can consider your mission accomplished.”

“Nope,” Quinlan said easily. “It’s everything or nothing.”

Obi-Wan was too professional to pout, but it was Quinlan; Quinlan had seen him do worse. He pouted.

Quinlan was unfazed. “So, I’m stealing your datapad and setting up in your quarters. You can choose to join me or you can languish here in the archives.” Quinlan sauntered away.

Obi-Wan groaned and buried his face in his arms on the table.

He was so tired.

Quinlan was such a pest, really. Obi-Wan didn’t know how he put up with him.

He forced himself out of the chair.

Quinlan was wrong; Obi-Wan didn’t need a break. But… well, Quinlan had clearly gone through a great deal of work—risking Siri’s wrath on top of it all—to give Obi-Wan a break. And he really had wanted to see the Phantasma Opera for quite some time.

He made it to his quarters to find Quinlan sprawled over his couch, Phantasma Opera queued up, tea steeping, and Alderaanian Delights in a box on his chest.

Obi-Wan forced Quinlan to move his legs before he sat down. “I need my datapad back.”

“Tomorrow,” Quinlan said. “I’m teaching your class on fighting dirty, already cleared it with the Masters—who were quite pleased to have an expert Shadow, by the way—so you have time then.”

Obi-Wan stared at his best friend, because tonight had been… appreciated for the intent behind it, but some part of Obi-Wan had been on edge trying to figure out what to do with the time he was losing. This… this was more than he had thought he could ask for. Some of his tension released.

“Thanks Quinlan,” he said quietly.

Quinlan smirked at him. “Don’t thank me too soon. I’m going to tell all of the padawans about the time you won a cantina fight because you freaked out the Duros smuggler by threatening to bite him.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Have I told Aayla the story of the time we almost poisoned Yoda when we brought him the wrong type of frog as a life day present?”

“Not yet,” Quinlan said, a gleeful look entered his eyes. Mostly because the story was more hilarious than embarrassing, Master Yoda had been delighted by their ‘murder attempt’. “But you can tell her tomorrow at dinner.”

Obi-Wan thought about protesting, but with Quinlan taking on Obi-Wan’s classes, his whole day tomorrow was suddenly free; he could spare another evening with Quinlan.

He leaned back against the sofa and relaxed as the Opera started.

His tension faded away. For the first time in ages, Obi-Wan just… relaxed.

Kark. Quinlan had been right; he was going to be absolutely insufferable.

#fey's writing #obi-wan kenobi #quinlan vos #short #thanks for the prompt!

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qqueenofhades · 9 months

Note

Just wondering your thoughts about the GOP 2024 nomination. Common wisdom seems to view Trump as the inevitable heir apparent for obvious reasons like poll numbers and De Santis tanking (as anyone outside the conservative bubble probably could have seen coming once a breathing human who was undecided actually met him on the campaign trail).

But I feel these assessments are missing the inherent chaos of real life. Trump could very well get indicted and struggle to run anything close to the 2016 campaign or run at all if in theory he’s in jail or otherwise disqualified. He’s in his late 70s, he could genuinely just die of any number of health issues before then. This “foregone conclusion” seems somewhat naive to me.

Really, the GOP was screwed when they didn’t turn on him on January 7th. The nation would have been with them as much as it would ever be, they could have harnessed that outrage to peel off all but the most fanatical cultists, and they could have started looking into building up new candidates. Trump was always going to tear down anyone who competed with his spotlight and he’s more vicious to former allies than to enemies. Now they risk losing any promising candidates to his vitriol AND something could happen where he ends up not even being able to run.

I mean don’t get me wrong, I’ll be overjoyed if they fall apart in 2024. And even if he is the nominee and squeaks out of all the court cases with his liberty and reputation intact, I think Trump is toast with independent and undecided voters (people forget how many votes he picked up in 2016 just being a new thing with no record to point to, he refused to get pinned down on any issue, so people figured they’d take a chance on the new thing over Hillary but now he’s got a record and can’t just say he would have done the opposite on anything that went wrong in the past). He couldn’t win while he was the incumbent. He’s a weak candidate.

Anyway, just curious about your thoughts. Am I the only one who thinks the GOP is naive or aware and screwed when it comes to their 2024 nominee?

Welp. There are a lot of things going on here. It goes without saying that they are all a flaming dumpster fire of absolute squalid seditionist anti-democratic bullshit, because that's literally all the Republican party is these days. So, you know. Cheerful!

First, barring him literally keeling over and dying before November 2024 (oh please oh please oh please), Trump WILL be the Republican nominee, even if he is actively in the process of being convicted/has been convicted and is trying to appeal to every court he can possibly think of (since as noted before, he will do his DAMNDEST to get them all to his pet SCOTUS under the flailing hope that they will exonerate him). I think there's still a certain amount of denial about this: the hope that because we are all so sick and tired of dealing with the orange psychopath and his Nazis, that he will just finally fucking DISAPPEAR and not force us to go through another election with him. Unfortunately, this isn't going to happen. The entire crumbling skeleton and gasping oxygen of the once-vaunted GOP is sucked up by Trump. The people theoretically running against him, aside from Chris Christie (who was a Trump sycophant until he wasn't) won't even mention THAT HE IS UNDER MULTIPLE STATE AND FEDERAL INDICTMENTS FOR TREASON-LEVEL CRIMES. You'd think that would be great for an opposition candidate! But since the only way they can win the primary is by getting enough of Trump's insane fans to vote for them, they're walking an impossible tightrope of not being Trump but still also trying to be Trump. Vote for them, please! They promise they can be just as heinous!

Now, the establishment GOP, or what's left of it, is perfectly well aware that Trump is a treasonous loser and a massive electoral liability, but they can't say so because of the same problem of Trump's rabid masses turning on them. See all these accounts of Republicans being plenty brave in private when it comes to criticizing him, but in public: crickets. They know that they've lost every election since 2016, when Trump became the leader of their party, but they also can't stop the insane GOP primary voters, still drunk on that Orange Trump Kool-Aid, from renominating him. As I said in a recent post, there is about 35% of this country that is just, as of now, totally beyond help. They love Trump and only Trump, he's the manifestation of the absolute worst of all their racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, etc. impulses, and they love him more the more awful he is (and the more "Joe Biden's Mean Evil Government!!!" punishes him, in true martyr fashion). There's no helping them. They WILL vote for him no matter what, and there's no way, as it currently stands, that any other GOP candidate has a prayer of getting past him. DeSantis was once hyped as the Alternative to Trump, but the instant actual people get a single look at him, they're repulsed. He's fucked.

Basically, the Republican party, as in the career elected officials, are well aware that Trump is a deadweight loser, but there's no getting out of the trap they've created for themselves. They KNOW perfectly well that Trump is a weak candidate and a perennial loser, but they can't stop their self-created monster of the radicalized Republican electorate from putting him in there again. Their entire toxic self-sustaining right-wing media ecosystem has been churning out lies for decades, that has only kicked into overdrive in the Trump era, and there is nothing they can do about it, because they're craven miserable anti-democratic power-hungry shitstains who will say or do anything to cling out a scrap of influence and money for just a little longer, and their whole platform now consists of being outrageously cruel to other people. Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of Nazis, etc. Witness them all vigorously condemning Trump in various interviews (looking at you, Bill Barr) and then either admitting they'll vote for him if he's the 2024 GOP nominee, or cowardly ducking the question. Because... they themselves will vote for him, so it's no wonder the primary voters will do the same. As long as he puts in more religious zealot judges and destroys everything the Democrats are trying to do, they're cool! Democracy? Don't know her. They're over it. See the Wisconsin GOP already running their mouths about trying to impeach state Supreme Court justice Janet Protasiewicz, elected in a landslide in spring, if she does anything to overrule their insane gerrymanders. They're all just as bad.

So in short, yes: they may very well screw themselves into a situation where Trump is totally unviable for 2024 AND there's nobody else they can have to replace him, because that is the devil's bargain they have made. They've all sold their souls. Trump will insist he's running until the very last moment, because it's his final gamble to keep himself out of a hefty prison sentence and the one thing he has escaped for his entire misbegotten existence: i.e., real consequences for his terrible actions (as like any good sociopath, he has no concept of those and they all seem outrageously unfair). If they were going to ever actually do anything about Trump, that was a long, long time ago. Now they're stuck with him, they're too cowardly to denounce him, they're left hoping that Jack Smith and the indictments will eventually take him off their hands, but in the meantime, to save their own necks, they fundraise and whip up public outrage and tell endless lies about how Trump is such a blameless martyr. So yeah. They're fucked, they've made themselves fucked, and they're awful and they deserve it. Etc. etc. never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake. Fuck 'em all.

#avelera #ask #politics for ts #the giant orange monster

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artist-emerald · 4 months

Text

Branch to the Future

It was another sunny day in Trollstopia, and Branch had decided to pay a visit to the Funk Troll sister scientists, Rhythm and Blues, or R&B as they prefer to be referred as. He admired their funky ingenuity and groovy inventions, but never got a real chance to get to know them and appreciate the work they do.

Branch: "Thanks for having me over, R&B. It's nice to get to know more Trolls with a spirit for craftsmanship. Even if your work is much more advanced than mine."

Rhythm: "No problem Branch! We're happy to have you!"

Blue: "And we don't want to think of our work as 'more advanced', just, funky!"

Rhythm: "We're actually glad you visited today! We need help testing out a new machine of ours!"

Branch: "Oh yeah? What kind of machine?"

Blues: "A time machine!"

Branch: "What!? No way, that's impossible! You two have made some pretty awesome stuff, but I can't believe you made a time machine."

Rhythm: "That's why we need help testing it! It is only theoretical after all. Who knows if anything will even happen!"

Blues: "Absolutely right, my dear sister! Now, let's get testing!"

R&B led Branch to a small metal pad on the floor. It was hooked up to a nearby console with large, colorful cables. They gave Branch a pair of safety goggles as they put on some for themselves. They then began hitting buttons and switches on the console, causing the machine to whir to life.

Rhythm: "Now, dear sister, how far do you think we should send him?"

Branch: "Not too far! Poppy and I are meeting for lunch this afternoon!"

Blues: "Ooh, lunch with the girlfriend? Okay, Branch we won't keep you too long. 20 seconds should be good."

Rhythm: "Sounds good! Setting parameters now! You ready Branch?"

Branch: "Ready as I'll ever be!"

R&B pulled a big switch on the console, surging power through the machine as lights and sounds filled the chamber. Suddenly, a spark came from the console, and then the pad that Branch was standing on. Before any of them knew what was happening, a bright white flash of light went off, and Branch was no longer on the pad.

R&B celebrated to themselves, thinking that the machine had worked and that Branch would be reappearing in the spot he left, only 20 seconds from when he left.

So they waited.

And waited.

But the 20 seconds were up, and Branch didn't come back.

Worry flooded the sisters' heads, "oh no."

Branch rubbed his eyes after the flash had gone and everything went quiet.

Branch: "R? B? Did it work? Hello?"

Once Branch's eyes adjusted, he looked around and found everything was old, decayed, and colorless. Dust covered the floor, plant overgrowth had covered the machines, and silenced loomed over the air.

Branch: "What happened? Something definitely went wrong."

Branch made his way out of the Funk Trolls ufo, but what he found outside took him aback. It was quiet, desolate, and not a single living soul could be seen. Like the ship, the forest had lost it's color. The standard walking paths were overgrown from the forest. Branch made his to Pop Village. There had to be someone, anyone still here. Someone who had to know what was going on.

As he made his way through the dense foliage, a mist began to settle in, obscuring his vision even more. He began to call out for his friends, for his brothers, for Poppy. He found only remnants of what was left of Pop Village, of Trollstopia. Everything was broken, run down, and abandoned, being overtaken by the forest, the dust, and the mist.

Branch then remembered his home, his bunker. If anyone was around and safe, it would have to be there. He made his way to the main entrance, but before he could head inside, he was met with rustling in the brush behind him.

Branch: "H-hello? Who's there?"

A shadow leaped from the grass, releasing a battle cry as it stood in-between Branch and his bunker's entrance. It held a toothpick as a spear, readying to strike.

???: "I thought I told everyone to stay away! To leave me alone! Who are you!?"

Branch looked carefully at the shadow as he stepped back with caution. He gazed through the mist, peeked through the cloak that the figure wore. He could swear he recognized that voice.

Branch: "Poppy? Poppy is that you? It's me, it's Branch!"

The figure pulled back it's hood, tall and frizzled hair erupting from it. It was Poppy, but she looked older, distraught, and gray. She looked at Branch up and down, eyes full of sadness and fear. Branch held out his arms, expecting a warm and loving embrace, but it never came.

Poppy: "Branch? No. No no no not again. I can't be having these hallucinations again! Why won't you leave me alone!"

Poppy swung the toothpick at branch more like a blunt object instead of a piercing weapon. Branch caught it in his hands. He looked at Poppy with worry.

Branch: "Poppy. It's really me. I don't know what happened, but I'm here!"

Poppy was frozen. The toothpick slipped out of her hands. She felt her arms shake, her knees give out of weakness, and a heavy pain rise in her chest. As she kneeled in front of Branch, staring at him, she couldn't hold back her tears. She wept, she reached out her arms to embrace her lost love. Branch rushed over into her arms to console her.

Branch sat with Poppy for what felt like ages to him. He stayed with her, letting her get all the sadness and grief out. Her gasps of breath in-between each sob started to slow as she steadied.

Poppy: "I missed you Branch."

Branch: "I missed you too. But, I need to know what happened."

Poppy wiped her face as the two stood up, and she led them into the bunker. She told him everything.

Poppy: "You never came back after R&B's experiment went wrong. They told me what happened, and they said they'd do everything they could to bring you back. But nothing ever worked. I came by every single day, hoping and waiting that you'd come back. That I'd see your adorable face again. Hear your beautiful voice again. Embrace the love of my life again."

Branch was speechless.

Poppy: "Time moved on, but I couldn't. Soon, I began to ignore my duties as queen. Everyone tried to cheer me up, to make me feel better, and to help me move on but I couldn't. Then dad died. Viva took over, and I shut myself away in your bunker. Then...there was a huge disaster, and everyone else was gone. I lost my colors after that, and I've kept myself alone since."

Branch: "Poppy. I'm so sorry. I would never hurt you like this. The machine, it was an accident!"

Poppy: "20 years, Branch. You were gone, for 20 YEARS!"

Branch had never heard Poppy raise her voice like that. Not with that much hurt, or anger, or malice. Almost like...hate.

Poppy: "I never blamed R&B for their machine. And I never blamed you for helping them out. I put all the blame on myself, as queen."

Branch: "I never thought it would go this way if something were ever to happen to me."

Poppy: "Of course, Branch! You're my best friend! The love of my life! The anchor that keeps me grounded! Losing you, it was like a part of me."

Branch saw the inside of the bunker. It was a mess. The walls and floors cracking, trash and broken jars spread about the place. And there on a table was a small basket, with a round stone painted to look like a Troll egg.

Branch: "Poppy?"

Poppy: "And now that you're back, it's just going to be you, me, and the baby."

Branch: "Poppy, listen to me. I know you're hurt, but this isn't healthy. We can fix all of this! We just need to find a way to send me back."

Poppy: "NO! I can't go through that again, Branch! I can't lose you again!"

Poppy braced herself in front of the exit, her arms and legs quivering, as she readied herself to fend off her own boyfriend. Branch noticed this. He slowly approached, showing no sign of ill intent, and he placed his hands on one of hers and brought it to his face.

Branch: "Poppy, please. I'm sorry that this happened. It hurts me so much to see you like this, to know this is what could happen if you lose me. But I know if I can get back, I can prevent this from ever happening, and talk to you about this so that if something ever does happen to me, that you'd be able to move on from it."

Poppy fell to her knees again as she embraced her love. She felt Branch kiss her forehead as he whispered to her that he loved her.

Poppy let him go, and she watched as he disappeared back to the surface. Branch rushed back to the Funk Trolls ufo. He started pressing buttons, pulling switches, doing everything he could to try and get anything to happen, but to no avail.

Branch then heard a shimmer in his ears, and a white light appear in front of him. He then heard a deep, and annoyingly familiar voice call out to him to step into the light, and that he would be brought back to where and when he belongs.

Branch thought for a moment before leaping through the light. And like that, he was back. R&B standing in front of him with eyes of wonder, but before he could tell them anything. He rushed out to find Poppy. He had so much to say, so much to tell her, and so much to prevent.

The End.

#broppy #trolls #dreamworks trolls #trollstopia #trolls branch #trolls poppy #branch x poppy #poppy x branch #writing #fanfic #episode idea #trolls r&b #trolls rhythm #trolls blues #time travel #angst #long post

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flightfoot · 1 year

Text

Lovesquare Variations that matter

So I was just thinking about this, and while there are lots of different outfits and monikers that our heroes go through, there are only a few that actually change how they interact with each other. I’m not counting joke identities like Marino the clumsy waiter or Comrade Mayo here.

Adrien Identities: Adrien Agreste, Chat Noir, Aspik, Cat Walker

Marinette Identities: Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladybug, Multimouse

I’m gonna skip past the main Lovesquare of Adrienette, Ladrien, Marichat, and Ladynoir because anyone with any familiarity with the show already knows those, and skip to the more interesting side ones, some of which have never gotten a chance to actually happen, but would theoretically have interesting and unique interactions. I’m leaving out ones that are basically the same interactions with different names, like how Multichat is Marichat, and Aspbug is Ladrien.

That leaves us with:

Snekmouse: This one has an actual ship name, along with fanfics and fanart, ever since we first found out that Adrien was getting the Snake and Marinette was getting the Mouse. Both of them know each other’s identities, but don’t KNOW that the other person knows, which leads to the two of them getting to be more bold with each other underneath the veil of their perceived anonymity. Could be especially useful for resolving misunderstandings.

Aspik/Marinette: Haven’t actually seen this one show up except once, I think, in a compilation, weirdly enough, but they WOULD have a unique interaction. Aspik doesn’t know that Marinette knows he’s Adrien, after all. I figure this interaction would mostly be like Adrienette, but with Adrien attempting to be a little more suave, and Marinette maybe being able to talk to him a little better... maybe.

Cat Walker/Marinette: All of the Cat Walker interactions are unique, since Adrien not only has an identity here that Marinette doesn’t know of in any of her forms, but a different personality as well. It’d be interesting to see him attempt to be the perfect prince with her. I wonder whether she’d see through him and realize he wasn’t comfortable acting that way if she spent more time with him? I could see him opening up to her about his reasons for putting up this facade, maybe even admitting to being Chat Noir, and honestly telling her how he’d been thinking and feeling the past few weeks, that he didn’t think Ladybug liked or valued him at all, and he wanted to assume a form where he’d matter again, because if she didn’t need or want him... well, there was a reason he’d had no energy the past week or so.

Cat Walker/Multimouse: I think Multimouse might mention how she had to give up her Miraculous before because Chat Noir found out who she was, possibly leading to Cat Walker badmouthing Chat Noir as being untrustworthy, and Multimouse explaining that wasn’t true, leading to Cat Walker going over all the ways that Ladybug didn’t trust Chat Noir (according to what Plagg told him supposedly) and Multimouse refuting him. Or trying to, since she couldn’t say she was Ladybug.

Ladywalker: Now this one, we actually saw. Very suave, very gentlemanly interaction on Cat Walker’s part, leaving Ladybug a blushy mess. Turns out, she has a really hard time concentrating when head-over-heels for someone. They did work well together, but ultimately, she missed her usual kitty.

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #cat walker #aspik #multimouse #snekmouse #Miraculous ladybug

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who-dat-homeless · 7 months

Text

people keep saying like "oh it would be sad if azicrow becomes human in the finally :( " or "oh it'd be sad if crowley rejects aziraphale" or " oh it'd be sad if they wipe aziraphale's memories and he forgets crowley"

And I can't fucking relate because looking at the story we've got so far I SEE ABSOLUTELY NO EVIDENCE THAT ANY OF THIS COULD HAPPEN EVEN THEORETICALLY.

oh they'd become humans -- thematically they are already humans. At the end of the season one crowley says that hell and heaven would start a war against humans and now both crowley and aziraphale are not demon and not angel but something grey, something in the middle, something that actually can decide their action and their future (which ahem ahem is how humans described by the aziraphale) there's absolutely no need to make them human's thematically because they're already are. The only reason I can think of for making them humans is to get a bittersweet emotion from the audience, BUT IT'S FOCKEN CHEAP and I really can not see Neil Gaiman going for this. The man is mad genius of tragedy and bittersweetness and he is because this tragedy always has a reason/theme.

oh crowley would reject aziraphale -- BABE HAVE YOU WATHCED THE SHOW??????? CROWLEY BREAKS UP WITH AZIRAPHALE EACH FIVE MINUTES FR FR AND THE NEXT SCENE IS HER STANDING ON HER KNEES WET SAD AND MISERABLE BEGGING AZIRAPHALE TO COME BACK. REALLY. For fuck's sake Crowley is the sensible little kitten that lingers to the stranger's pants leg hoping they will get at least a little bit of sympathy. He's optimistic at it's core. But also he's so FUCKING lonely.

DID YOU ALL COLLECTIVELY FORGOT THIS SCENE??? "I'm a demon I lied" -- AND THIS IS THE CONFESSION OF HER FEELING THE WORST, FEELING ABANDONED AND LONELY AND MISERABLE.

She literally drove Bentley slower TO GIVE AZIRAPHALE A CHANCE TO CATCH HER. Good god.

Yes, of course there'll be conflict and there'll be fights and misunderstanding yada yada yada BUT DEAR GOD the second aziraphale is hurt (even emotionally) crowley is here ready to fight god, satan and whoever there is, and then accept his angel back in a span of a second

AND IT ALSO MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE THEMATICALLY TO GET THEM FALL APART. They're each other's yang!!! bitch!! they're the human's nature dichotomy THEY LITERRALLY CAN NOT BE APART. WRITE THEM APART AND THE WHOLE MESSSAGE OF GOOD OMENS FALLS APART

oh they'll wipe aziraphale's memories -- let's start with that they couldn't even wipe off Gabriel's memories (he and beelzebup did, putting it into the fly, Metatron did not do it)

and now, aziraphale first -- knowing what to expect from heaven, second -- specifically going there to fix it and stop second coming HE WILL BE SO CAUTIOUS that I really can't see how the wiping can even occur

"oh the angels would catch him and torture and.." no. I mean I think they're capable but like. They're an extremely ass licking office workers, who prides their reputation and stupid brute force is not their style. Yes they kidnaped aziraphale(crowley) once but even that kidnaping was so sanitized and almost non violent that I hardly can imagine them getting into actions. I think that they wouldn't even chase aziraohale across the heaven because running is heaven is prohibited, so. Unless Aziraphale himself would want to wipe his memories.. I absolutely can't see it happening.

but y'know what is the only thought that does make me sad?

That there's a possibility that Crowley would accept Aziraphale back no questions asked

This is the real shit

Because Crowley already did that in the past. It's in his fucking character. Because he's optimistic, because he's lonely, because he already lost his friend once. Because he has it all, he can go back to hell become a respected demon, take back his cool brutalist flat, he's self-sufficient, he can be all by himself if he really wants but he can never shut this hole of lonliness in himself no matter what he does

In Crowley's eyes Aziraphale makes him complete. It's the lost part of her soul she was looking for so long.

And I so fucking afraid that she will give up her dignity, she'll repress her feelings and needs once again, she'll do the first step ONCE AGAIN, only to shut this ugly feeling deep inside that makes her want to disappear.

AND IT MAKES SENCE because then Aziraphale can see how desperate Crowley and how wrong he was to just pretend that everything is fine between them, and Crowley can be confronted about this really unhealthy behavior and so on and so on

and just the thought that it makes sense and that it's in character MAKES ME SO AFRAID and so sad...

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #anthony j crowley #gomens #go #azicrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #ineffable divorce #good omens 3

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

Text

A Dangerous Game. Yan Childe x F Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, some cat-and-mouse vibes, not SFW implications at the end. Word count: 3k.

When Childe plopped your once hidden bag full of supplies clearly meant to aid in an escape attempt on the table during breakfast, you thought it was all ever.

That knapsack, pitiful as it was in its subpar contents, was a testimony to your hard work. It spoke to months of sneaking about at night to pilfer whatever provisions you could get your hands on. Dried meats, waterskins, flimsy matches; items that sounded theoretically solid for a trip into the Snezhnayan wilderness. There was no explaining it away.

You thought to speak up. Give an apology, maybe, or make a clumsy claim of ignorance.

He struck first, as he so often does.

“You must think so little of me,” he sighed. You thought the oatmeal you ate minutes prior might creep back up. He was upset — he had to be upset. That you would try to shatter the illusion of a happily wed couple that he’d painstakingly built, piece by piece, fragile as they were. Would this be where his patience dried up? After all, this was the worst betrayal of his trust you could make. It’s inevitable a sizable rift would form between you both in the aftermath.

That’s what you figured, until he finished his thought.

“If you believe this is sufficient enough. No, no, that’d make it insultingly easy for me. We need to get you a compass. A hunting knife, perhaps… if you’re going to do this, I want you at nothing less than your best. Got it?”

… Huh?

What you thought was the end proved itself to be a fresh beginning. A shot in the dark that, no matter how shaky your hands were on the trigger, you needed to take. At first, you thought it to be a joke made in poor taste. He excelled at those. What better way to torment you than to act like was he actually giving you a chance? Then, at the last second, he’d pull the rug from beneath you and laugh. Deride you and begin your real punishment in earnest.

That moment never happened.

He came and went a few times, humming to himself while he did so. Your knapsack was dwarfed by the assortment of items he brought. A sturdy backpack, built to endure the elements, a lighter, rope, first aid kit, knife, the works. He even went so far as to pack it himself and remind you of where to find everything.

“Why…” your voice was low and unsteady, “Why are you doing this?”

Childe laughed in a way that felt more familiar than his sudden shift in personality. Now that was a sound you knew, a sound which meant you best prepare for mockery delivered with a wolfish grin.

“Call me a hypocrite, but I understand the cabin fever you’re enduring. You want your independence back, don’t you? Your freedom? And I want the exact opposite. Now, how do we best resolve this? Compromise is apparently a staple in relationships, but I don’t think either of us would settle for that. So! How about this: a deal. The best one you’re ever going to get from me, too.”

His grin widened at your clear intrigue. “I’ll give you a fair shot at escape. Everything you see here, sweet thing? Could last you weeks in the wilderness. Plenty of time to get to civilization and be on your merry way should you play your cards right. Since I adore you, truly, I’ll give you the benefit of a day's head start. If you successfully pull this off, I won’t ever bother you again. I swear on my life—,” you narrowed your eyes and he sighed, “My family’s life.”

“A head start?” You repeated, cautious, but undeniably curious.

“Uh-huh. I’m generous, but not generous enough to not pursue my own interests. What sort of husband would I be if I didn’t try to collect my vagabond wife? After that first day passes, I’m coming to get you. And when I do… well, I better not hear any more complaining about how ‘unfair’ this situation is. You get your chance and I get mine.”

He extended his hand out to you.

“So, how about it? We have ourselves a deal?”

Back then, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. You thought you came to terms with that — your original plan did include running away with far less. This survival backpack at least ensured you had a fighting chance. Childe, oddly enough, never broke any promises he made you. Hence why he made so few. For him to swear on the well-being of his family, whom he cherished dearly, further cemented this.

So you shook his hand and almost felt like his equal for the first time in years.

Presently, that same hand is struggling to light a fire from how much it trembles.

You can see your breath materialize before your weary eyes. Squinting, you fixate on the taunting flame that refuses to spread, frustration and despair building in equal tandem. The sticks you gathered are moist from snow. You waited a few long, agonizing hours for them to dry off, to no avail. The fire didn’t catch any easier than when you tried earlier. At the most, you’d get a weak ember to start before it gave out in a pitiful puff.

Water. You want water. Freedom is what remained highest on your list of priorities for so long, that it felt strange to push it into the recesses of your mind for the time being. Your waterskin sits a few feet away, discarded, useless in its emptiness. Four days it had lasted you in total. All the nonstop physical exertion depleted your supply faster than you ever could’ve anticipated. If only you had known, you would’ve rationed it better…

The wintery landscape you’ve been traversing is abundant in water, just in the wrong form. A solid form. Childe had cautioned you against eating raw snow if it ever came down to it, explaining that he’d rather not lose you to infection. There’s no fun in that, he said, bastard that he is. Naturally, you don’t want to die from that either. Callous words or not, they stopped you from shoveling handfuls of puffy white snow into your dry mouth, not until you could heat it up.

Over a fire that refused to start.

The dank underpass you’ve situated yourself in is not helping. You’re convinced that everything about Snezhnaya screams inhabitable. From the dreary gray skies promising nonstop snowfall, trees dead caught in an everlasting winter, to the sparse wildlife. That’ll be the next problem you contend with. The dried meats, while ideal for preservation, are salty and further boost your thirst.

His words from before echo in your subconscious.

“I’ll give you a fair shot at escape.”

Rubbing your numb hands together, you think to scoff, choosing not to only because your throat can produce no such sound. The sun is slowly collapsing into the horizon. If the days are wretched, then night has to be a special divine punishment; it escapes your comprehension how anything could be so cold.

You lean against the cave’s porous wall.

What a devious deterrent Childe’s idea ended up being. On his own terms, he got to showcase how futile a hastily strung together escape attempt would be. You don’t doubt that you would’ve been dead by now had you departed with your original knapsack. A fair shot at escape. There was never such an idyllic path. Not when you were pitted against a monster in human form like Childe. So long as there was breath in his lungs, you would remain at his mercy.

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, an exhausted half of your psyche reasons. The expansive home he kept you in, far removed from the more populated areas of Snezhnaya, has everything you could want and more. Food that isn’t salty and chewy. Fresh water to drink and bathe in. A comfortable mattress that adheres to your body’s shape.

You know you shouldn’t stay here much longer. In fact, you should’ve erased all evidence of your being here and departed hours ago. If Childe wasn’t hot on your trail before, he most certainly is now. You all but left breadcrumbs for him to follow one by one. Budding dehydration can work wonders on your ability to plan and follow through.

Through the grapevine, you’ve heard stories of adventurers going mad with thirst. Seeing apparitions that weren’t there. Hearing voices that their ears never truly detected. Will that be the humiliating state he finds you in? Raving like a madman as if you had a captive audience hanging on your every word when in reality, you had never been so alone?

Alone. You had been wanting extensive time to yourself. If this is how the Archons have decided to answer your prayers, they might be crueler than you thought.

“Now there’s an expression I’ve seen a thousand times.”

From the cave’s entrance, a jovial voice steals the scene.

Boasting a relaxed gait, he strides toward you, his footsteps reverberating inside the small cavern. Your initial instinct to dash is dampened by the realization your legs won’t move when you tell them too. Recalling what you were just thinking about, you lift a nearby stone in your hand and chuck it in his direction. The throw is weak, but he still dignifies it with a summon of his Hydro blade, slicing through the rock with ease. The surviving remnants clatter behind him listlessly.

Ah. So he’s real, then, you think, frowning.

The Hydro blades dissipate following their use, and subconsciously, you lick your dry lips.

“I come bearing gifts and you try to stone me to death? Phew, now that’s grounds for divorce if I’ve ever seen any. Good thing I’m the forgiving type.”

Childe’s get up is similar to yours, if not heftier. He’s wearing a thick winter coat with the hood over his head of messy ginger locks, his face dusted with pink from the cold. Unlike you, he doesn’t shiver, having no difficulty slinging his backpack over his shoulder and rummaging through the contents. He lifts out a waterskin and tosses it onto your lap. By the weight, you can tell it’s full.

You inspect it as if it contained poison.

“Are you really in a position to be picky?” he laughs, but it’s forced and airy. “Drink up. Your body’s reaching its limit. I’d rather not have to force it down your throat, if at all possible.”

The threat is delivered in such a friendly package, yet you know better than to dismiss it just because of that. He’d do it in a heartbeat should he feel it necessary. You pop open the lid and allow the life-giving substance to revitalize you. Without the slightest bit of decorum, you gulp it down fast, some dribbling from the corner of your mouth in the process.

For a moment, he fixates on the sight. Dull eyes follow the stream with intrigue before he shakes his head and returns to his previous task. He procures a lighter and sets out to work on starting a fire. You think to tell him that it’s no use — you’ve been at it for an embarrassing amount of time — but decide it’s best if he’s occupied. Anything is better than having to face him in your current weak state.

He splits the wood into smaller pieces, and layers them criss-cross on top of each other, allowing marginal space instead of crowding it together. Next, he presses the lighter’s flame against the bottom-most section of wood. With a few well-timed blows, the wood starts to burn, flames growing in intensity as the minutes progress.

“And, voila,” Childe motions to it with pride, as if you weren’t already paying rapt attention. “That is how you start a proper fire, dear. Your attempts were valiant — cute, almost. I’ll give you points for effort.”

You don’t humor him with a response. That is, until a dreadful realization comes crashing down, stealing the breath from your lungs like a punch to the gut.

He was watching you this entire time?

Much to your displeasure, he situates himself beside you. Not trusting your legs, you try to scoot away, only for an arm to wrap itself around your shoulder. Tight, but you know it’s a mere fraction of his otherworldly strength. Loath as you are to admit it, he’s warm. Pleasantly so. If he’s going to latch himself to your person like a leech, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to try and get something out of it for yourself.

“... What expression is that?” You query, your mind stuck on his initial greeting. While your brain understood the individual words, when put together, it didn’t form anything cohesive. Not to you, at least.

“Hm? Ohhh,” he prolongs the syllable in that grating voice of his, “That, yeah. When you frequent the battlefield as often as I do, you learn a lot about other people’s expressions. What it looks like when they think victory is within their grasp, or how nonchalant they try to act when when leading you into a trap…”

He winks at you. “What it looks like when they intend to surrender.”

You ball your hands into fists by your side. Your face feels warm, and for the first time today, you wish it didn’t.

“I thought that would be an excellent time to make my entry and cut our little game short. Though, if you want my opinion — and I doubt you do, but I’ll give it anyway — you gave up the second you sat down in this cave.”

An insult swirls to life on the tip of your tongue. What right did he have to think you had given up? Surrendered? You, who braved a foreign land so hostile, even seasoned adventures would not dare venture out into it? His trivialization has your head spinning. No, you weren’t going to throw in the towel from some thirst. Not after coming this far. He’s just trying to get under your skin, like he always does. Your efforts took courage, perseverance—

—Hanging your head, damnation settles in, ringing clear like a bell.

He’s right. Subjugated by dehydration, you were fantasizing about what it would be like back at his estate. Your prison. That you fought tooth and nail for a chance to crawl out of. You thought that with the right conditions, motivations, and means, you could scrape a narrow victory. Hope that is difficult to cling to is better than no hope at all. On those bleak mornings where you contemplated why you should move at all, that elusive yet oh-so tantalizing hope gave you the strength to get up. Make your little plans and scheme your little schemes.

Childe believes you gave up when you first entered this cave, but if you were to be honest with yourself, it may have been a lot sooner than that.

“How long did it take for you to find me?”

You don’t want to know, but you ask regardless.

“Well, I departed twenty-four hours after you left, just like I said I would. If that was at the crack of dawn and I found your tracks around noon, then… a few hours is my guess.”

A few hours. That was what your greatest efforts culminated to. A few, measly hours.

You throw your head back against the wall, admiring the low-hanging ceiling through lidded eyes. “I’m never getting rid of you, am I?”

No matter how hard you fight. Whatever plots you manufacture, underhanded or not, would be but a bump in the road to someone like him. A minor inconvenience at best and slight annoyance at worst. A Harbinger such as himself isn’t just on another level, he’s at the top of the food chain, looking down at the world from his pedestal.

His gloved hand rubs your arm up and down.

“You can try,” he muses. The fire crackles, illuminating his side profile in warm hues, golden and amber. “As many times as you like, in fact. There’s nothing I can do shy of having you always chained up to prevent that. And, well, I’d prefer not to do that. I’d prefer a lot of things, actually. Your happiness included.”

At this, you bristle. “That’s a lie and we both know it.”

“Do we? Give it some thought, [First]. You have a Harbinger wrapped around your pretty little finger. Whatever you want, I could get. You could travel wherever, whenever. Indulge in the finest luxuries. If you asked… I would even conquer this world and crown you the new ruler. Bring the heads of your enemies to you on a silver platter.”

He’s facing you now, playing with the fabric of your coat. Looking for a zipper, you realize, your breath caught in your throat.

“I’d do anything. No act is too depraved, no request too big,” his face is flushed, but this time, you don’t think it’s from the cold. “I’ve always loved a good fight. I always will, too. Oh, but darling… if I was fighting for you… I simply wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

While you always thought the most disturbing element of Childe’s eyes was how blank they are, this is infinitely worse. There’s a flicker in the abyssal ocean staring back at you. An ember, low yet filled to the brim with malignant potential, that would combust if you willed it. He wants to go down in flames if you are the kindle.

Childe locates the zipper he’s been searching for and pulls it down, revealing your shirt, and showcasing more of your chest. He greedily takes in the sight. Modesty bids you to turn away, come up with some lame excuse so might decide not to ravish you, but you pause. Sparks from the fire ascend in a humble journey, before fading away into obscurity. You blink. Then smile, your eyes squinting in glee, muscles straining from how harsh your lips tug upward.

You take his hand and place it to your chest, in what might be the most surprising thing he’s seen you do yet.

He’s inadvertently given you the answer to the predicament.

There’s no don’t need to destroy him. He’ll destroy himself, if it means getting the slightest taste of you.

So a taste is what you will give.

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere x reader #not sfw #commissons #my stuff

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daydreamerwonderkid · 9 months

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I read a fic once where a younger Tim lit a trash can on fire in order to get attention from Batman and I haven't been able to stop thinking about the idea of teenage/young adult Tim pulling a similar stunt.

Definitely to get Bruce's attention, for sure. But mostly for potential petty reasons this time around.

I'm just picturing Bruce coming down to the Batcave early one evening just to find a dead-eyed Tim standing over a metal barrel, staring him straight in the eyes as he drops a set of documents into the fire.

Bruce knows Tim would never actually jeopardize any important case files/info. But there's always a slight chance it could happen and he's already flying down the steps to wrestle the remaining documents out of Tim's hands before he can do anymore theoretical damage.

Also feel free to link me the fic if you know which one I'm talking about. I'm having trouble finding it again lol

#batfam #batfamily #tim drake #bruce wayne #i just think it'd be funny #dreamer queue

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violetlunette · 29 days

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Runaway Chapter 9: What Does it Matter?

Summary: Malleus learns that Lilia left NRC and Lilia believes he has a lead on Silver.

Previous Chapter

Master List

Ao3

Notes: *Twst spoilers for Chapter/Book 7

“Lilia’s...gone?”

Sebek turned his head away, his fingernails digging into his palm. It was easier than looking at his prince and the heartbreak that spread across his face.

“I’m sorry, My Lord.” His words were watery as his chin quivered.

Malleus looked away from the other as well, scowling as he felt something tight around his throat. Pieces of his heart sank into the yucky swamp of emotions swirling inside his gut.

He knew they were fighting, but Malleus didn’t think that Lilia would just run away without a word. After all, they had been together for all of Malleus’ life. That had to have meant something to him, right?

His frown deepened.

‘Did I go too far?’ The prince wondered. ‘Or does Silver just mean more to him than I?’ His expression soured as an ember of jealousy lit inside him. Malleus knew Lilia loved Silver dearly, but did he love him more than Malleus ?

“My lord?” Sebek’s voice cut through the fog of his mind. “Are… you alright?” At first, Malleus thought Sebek was asking to make sure he didn’t blot over again, then corrected himself.

This was Sebek , after all. He was just concerned for Malleus’ well-being. And now that Lilia and Silver were gone, he was all Malleus had. He had to be careful that he didn’t chase him away.

The young dragon turned his head away, keeping his face neutral. Even though his insides were clawing apart.

“I’m fine.” That was a lie. He wasn’t "fine." Lilia was gone , and he didn’t get a chance to... what? What did he want to do? What did he…

Malleus closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his aching heart. Logically, he should be glad.

Lilia’s betrayal could not be forgotten or forgiven. And as Malleus couldn’t trust him anymore, there was no place for the bat-fae at his side.

However, now that place is empty...

“Are you sure? After all, you and Master Lilia...” Malleus closed his eyes as Sebek inquired his concern once more. The other’s voice was raw with emotion as if trying to hold back tears.

Malleus knew that the other would listen to him and accept the burden of his emotions without question or judgment.

But Malleus was a prince. He wasn’t supposed to trouble others with such things. Not to mention, talking about them would mean bringing them out into the open and facing them. Facing the hurt and sorrow Lilia and his human son inflicted upon him, as well as--

He took a breath to compose himself.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, careful to keep his tone in check. “Lilia informed us a while ago that he would be leaving us. Whatever else has happened, the fact that he was going to leave did not change.”

The dragon bitterly recalled that Lilia was planning to go to the Land of the East, where the man knew Malleus wouldn’t be able to see him again.

His jaw clenched, and his eyes glowed.

Lilia intended to abandon Malleus from the very beginning. That had always been the plan. The bat didn’t care that Malleus still needed him or just wanted--it didn’t matter. But then, Malleus and his family never mattered at all. If they did, then Lilia would never have taken that human in.

The bitterness grew towards the father and son, the two responsible for his misery. The more he focused on that fact, the more the pain inside him lessened, even if it was just replaced by anger.

“After… his son’s departure, it was only a matter of time,” Malleus finished. “And with all the trouble that’s come from it, it’s better that it’s done.”

“My lord…”

“It’s done, Sebek,” Malleus said firmly. “ So, leave it. ” With that, he turned and walked away.

~*~

The first thing Lilia did when he arrived in the Queendom was go to a town for gossip. It was an old way to gather information, but a reliable one. Sadly, the younger generation—who would theoretically have the most intel as they traveled more—weren’t interested in talking, preferring to be left to themselves as they used the bar’s wi-fi.

The older folk, who couldn’t get their phones to do more than answer calls, were more open to chat. Sadly, this didn’t help Lilia, as no one saw a teen with silver hair or aurora eyes.

‘At this point, I’d have better luck finding Waldo or Carmen,’ Lilia thought with a sigh. His stare dropped to his hands, which were grasped tightly around his drink. (Tomato juice, as he couldn’t convince the owner he was over 21.)

Lilia only started his search, but he felt fatigue draped over him already, making his body heavy. Of course, that could be due to his lack of sleep the past couple of days. He may not need as much sleep as humans, but he still needs sleep.

The problem was that whenever he slept, Lilia dreamed of Silver’s sorrow and Malleus’ anger, both of which tormented him like a vicious--

“I tell ye there's some sort of ghost roaming the land!” An old man insisted over the laughter, though his claims weren’t helped by the swishing of his beer.

Lilia watched the scene from the counter, having finished questioning the pub owner for information.

“Yeah, yeah! So you saw a specter? And? ” One of the other patrons broke through Lilia’s thoughts with a scoff and a sneer. If Lilia recalled correctly, while ghosts weren’t common in these parts, specters weren’t unheard of either, as ghosts often appeared in the country.

“She weren’t like them other spooks!” the traveler huffed. After a swing from his mug, he continued.

“I saw ‘er two nights ago, as I was searching for me daughter’s cat. I made my way to the river in the old woods. That’s when I heard it—the most entrancing voice I ever did hear. It was so peaceful and comforting, like how me ol’ ma use ter sing. I could not help myself—I followed it.”

“You followed the voice of what you thought was a siren?”

“I told ye—I could not help myself! I had ter see it! And then I did.” The man paused for dramatic effect. “A shade you could not imagine; a ghost with hair as golden as the sun at the peak of dawn covered in thorns and roses red as blood fresh from the vein. Her beauty was only matched by the sorrow that surrounded her being to her very core.

“She sat at the edge of the river, humming her song. 'twas as if she were lulling her child to sleep. That’s when I noticed the shimmering blade of silver protruding from her chest. I looked closer and noticed she was holding a young man close to her. One with hair from the light of the silvery moon--”

Lilia nearly choked on his drink. In a heartbeat, he was before the man, shaking him.

“Where did you see them?!” he demanded, his face frantic. The old gent's eyes grew in startled surprise.

“What?! Who--”

“WHERE!” His pulse racing was so loud that Lilia nearly missed the answer.

“At the River of Tears, in the middle of Turgy Woods!" The stranger said it hastily. Lilia dropped him and tossed some cash at the bartender before making a mad dash out the door, leaving everyone else in the bar to stare after him.

~*~

Lilia traveled at night when his energy and abilities were at their best, and during the day, when they were at their weakest. He only stopped when his body gave him no choice in the manner.

On the rare occasions Lilia slept, he was haunted by the ghosts of his past.

The first was Malenore, who, like her son, accused him of betrayal. The other was of Malleus, who glowered at the bat-fae in disgust. And the third was the broken form of his child, wearing an expression the father hoped to never see.

Needless to say, all these figures resulted in restless nights.

He stayed along the river, his only clue to the whereabouts of his son. As he did so, Lilia noted that there was more bramble in these parts than there should have been. Not only that, but all the thorns were black as ink. This made the roses, red as blood, stand out.

Lilia carefully observed the red flowers and saw they weren’t roses but poppies. It was just that their petals had shaped themselves to look like roses. He also noted that if he inhaled their scent for too long, Lilia would become drowsy.

Sensing magic from them, the fae assumed the flowers must have carried a sleep spell within them.

‘The ghost must have some strong magic.’ Lilia thought hard about the creature and what it could be, but in the end, all he had was guesses.

‘Not that she matters. I’m more curious about the silver-haired boy…’ Lilia pressed his lips. Did he jump the gun so soon? Lilia had been so anxious that as soon as he heard of a teen with silver locks, he shot off like a bullet. However, silver hair wasn’t rare, as at school, Azul and Jack had the same shade.

More than that, he didn’t have any clues about whether or not the boy in question was actually Silver.

‘I was impulsive.’ As his heart fell, a weak smile crossed his lips. Lilia began to rub his arms, trying to hold back tears.

He missed Silver so much. Every moment they were apart, hurt him and left a part of him empty. Lilia missed Silver’s disapproving scowl when he was too sloppy and the furrow of his brow when he was trying to figure out a problem. He missed seeing his eyes light up when he saw something curious, the soft smile he always had for Lilia, and more.

The little things, the big things... if Lilia failed in his quest, then...

A heavy sigh deflated him, making the bat appear small as his head and shoulders fell.

‘Silver…’ Lilia’s eyes shone as he stared at his traveling boots. He never imagined he would ever feel this way about anyone, much less a human. Particularly, the one who…

He tightened his fist over his heart.

Lilia wished he had done things differently. He wished he had done better. He wished he had found a way to tell the truth without destroying his family.

If only…

But that didn’t matter now, did it?

#mine #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #lilia twisted wonderland #lilia twst #twst spoilers #twst runaway #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland

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