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#whispers of lost love

froottalks · 8 months

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Whispers of Lost Love - Veronica Lodge x reader

[summary: reader and veronica were in a relationship, veronica ends it due to her family/personal problems. later veronica misses the reader but the damage was already done.]

Masterlist

The city streets were painted with the hues of twilight, a melancholic setting that mirrored the storm of emotions within your heart. Veronica Lodge, the woman who had once been the melody of your life, now stood before you like a distant star whose light had faded. The love you had shared, once a symphony of passion and promise, had transformed into a haunting melody of heartbreak.

Veronica's gaze held a mixture of sadness and regret, her lips quivering as if struggling to find the right words. "We need to talk," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of a decision that could alter the course of your lives.

You let out a nervous laugh, "Everything alright V?" you have an idea of what's to come even though you don't want to believe it. After all, nothing ever comes with your girlfriend saying, we need to talk.

The two of you found yourselves on the balcony of your favorite coffee shop, a place that had once been the backdrop to whispered confessions and shared laughter. Now, the air was heavy with tension, the space between you a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.

"What is it, Veronica?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, though the fear of what she might say seemed to amplify your words.

She took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I think… I think we should break up."

The words hung in the air like a dissonant chord, shattering the fragile remains of the love you had once nurtured. Your heart seemed to stop, the pain of her declaration a piercing ache that radiated through your chest.

"I don't understand," you managed to say, your voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and hurt.

Veronica's gaze never left yours, her expression torn between sorrow and determination. "(Y/n), I love you, but our paths are... diverging. My family's legacy, the expectations... I'm suffocating, and I... I can't be the person you deserve right now."

Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to process her words. The love that had once felt like an unbreakable bond was now unraveling, slipping through your fingers like mere grains of sand.

"Why didn't you talk to me about this? We could have faced it together," you said, your voice a blend of hurt and desperation.

Veronica's shoulders slumped, the weight of her decision evident in her posture. She had tears streaming down her face now, "I thought I could handle it on my own. I thought I was protecting you."

The pain in your chest deepened, the ache of betrayal mingling with the sorrow of losing the person who had meant the world to you. The city lights twinkled around you, a stark contrast to the darkness that seemed to have settled within your heart.

Days turned into weeks, and the emptiness left by Veronica's absence in your life was a constant reminder of the love you had lost. The places you had once explored together and had filled you with happiness and joy, were now tinged with bittersweet memories, the laughter and shared moments haunting your thoughts like a poignant melody.

You found yourself navigating through life, the once-familiar routine now a chore. The ache of missing Veronica was an ever-present companion, a shadow that seemed to grow longer with each passing day. The lyrics of the songs you once loved held new meanings, resonating with the emotions you were unable to express.

One evening, as the rain pattered against your window, a message notification broke the silence of your solitude. It was from Veronica—an invitation to meet at a place that had once been your sanctuary.

With a mixture of trepidation and longing, you knew you shouldn't but you found yourself at the familiar park bench, the place where you had shared secrets, dreams, and your love. Veronica was already there, her gaze a mixture of sadness and regret. She stood up when she saw you approach,

"(Y/n), I miss you," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.

Your heart ached at her words, the flood of memories overwhelming. "Veronica, why did you end things if you miss me?"

She looked down, her fingers nervously tracing patterns on her lap. "I thought I was doing what was best for both of us. But I've realized that losing you hurt more than any challenge I face."

Tears welled in your eyes as you stared at the person who had once been your everything, now standing before you with a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

"Is there a chance for us?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, the wounds of her decision still fresh. "Veronica, you walked away from us."

She reached for your hand, her touch a fragile lifeline in the sea of pain. "I was wrong, and I regret it every day. But I still love you."

The rain intensified around you, the drops echoing the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes. The memories of your love story flooded your thoughts—the laughter, the promises, the dreams you had shared.

With a heavy heart, you pulled your hand away. "Veronica, what we had was beautiful, but it's different now. I can't go back to the way things were."

She bowed her head, barely giving a light nod, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her sorrow. "I understand."

The silence that followed was filled with the echoes of a love that had once been everything, and now was a haunting reminder of what could have been.

As you walked away, the raindrops mingled with your tears, each step taking you further from the woman who had once held your heart.

THE END

#veronica lodge #x reader #veronica lodge x reader #veronica lodge x male reader #veronica lodge x female reader #veronica lodge x fem!reader #riverdale #veronica lodge x y/n #angst #angst fic #one shot #oneshot #breakup #sad ending #whispers of lost love

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willosword · 23 days

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i feel like invincible is one of those ips where if you're watching for the action and the cool story it's pretty ok but if you have any amount of personal investment in mark grayson as a character it will literally eat your brain from the inside out

#im a reaction video connoisseur and i've noticed the ppl who really love the show tend to be the ones who are very invested in mark #and it's like. man. i get it. there's somethin about him #lost a good 30 minutes of sleep last night just staying up thinking about him #willow whispers #invincible

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noeggets · 1 year

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Her awake paralysis monster i guess? hes a daymare lol

We read the IDW comic tonight it was a whole lot of funny for us didn’t read the scrap yard yet but this was a whole trip still love them

#a #c #sth #surge the tenrec #kit the fennec #dont talk to me about surges earrings they put up a fight and i lost #or her head shes kinda hard to draw i still love my girl #i wanna do one about what the Surge Whisper fight was like that's for later tho #sonic idw #dr starline

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bangzhasanxiety · 3 days

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When it comes to buddie, I never really know how I would like their love confession to go??? Would I want the dramatic near-death experience love confession or something more like..

Eddie and Buck in the kitchen. The one in Eddie’s house? The one in Buck’s flat? Does it really matter? Eddie is by the sink, staring at Buck as he chops something. Or maybe Buck is sitting at the table, sipping a beer. Or maybe Eddie is the one sitting. And they are talking, something, something about love? About love and relationships and how they are both so scared of the future. And Buck is like, I want this, that love, the person who stays, despite the hardships, the pain and the chaos. That person who loves him, and loves the idea of them ; that person who loves him anyways. And Eddie is staring and he hums and he gets it too. Because somehow he too is looking for that person who loves him and who he loves too. That person who helps him see in the fog of uncertainty, who grounds him and keeps his head above water and that person who-

And oh. They look at each other. And somehow they know. And it’s quiet and calm and not as cathartic as they could ever think it would be. It just is. Because they just are. And amidst they chaos of their everyday lives, of their own personalities and minds; there they are. Buck and Eddie and the serenity of their love.

#911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #and the many ways they could profess their love #sometimes an I love you is but a look in one’s eyes #and perhaps I am seduced by the beauty of that #almost as much as the dramatic kisses under the rain #or the I love yous pressed into skin out of despair #or the whisper of it lost in the haze of relief

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whispers-of-lost-love · 1 day

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There's no greater pain than igniting a fire of love in someone and then leaving them to burn all alone.

#writers #poetry #love quotes #love #loss #yearning hours #quotes #life lessons #heartbroken #spilled ink #spilled words #thoughts #whispers-of-lost-love #longing #relatable

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 2 months

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giant paragraph I wrote tonight where harrison makes enemies with george michael… handwritten version is the first draft & made some minor changes below:

Harrison’s tired of hearing George Michael on the radio. Once, he enjoyed getting drunk off peach daiquiris and being the only person in his friend group to be kicked out of three separate karaoke bars for being “grossly disruptive” during Everything She Wants. Sometimes, he’d extend a hand to Jeremiah sitting amused on the sectional, singing some people work for fun, girl I just work for you, just so he’d roll his eyes and with a reluctant laugh, take his hand, the silver tassels of his chrome sequin jacket braying midair like Christmas ornaments. They’d shout the lyrics together, every uh-huh, every la, la, la, back to back like Richard Gere and Julia Roberts on the cover of Pretty Woman. The memories are misty at the edges, dreamy tiles of a rotating disco ball because Jeremiah was a dream, half an angel and certainly more than a man. It feels, then, apt to be haunted—by pillar candles, silk sheets, vintage analog clocks, Annie’s mac and cheese right from the pot, silver sedans, the scent of nail polish remover, blue snow cones, disposable cameras, back issues of XY, green gummy bears, losing at checkers, motel pools, bootleg copies of Sleepy Hollow and Silence of the Lambs and The Blair Witch Project, sharing instant coffee on a loveseat, the texture of velvet, halving a granny smith apple in the dark, orange Tic-Tacs, veggie pizza, movie ticket stubs, brown eyes in the sun, fur coats, the sound of George Michael’s voice.

#in a way this is the harrison version of the jeremiah faith by george michael flash #does lonan get long ass paragraphs where harrison thinks of every possible detail that reminds him of him?? DON'T THINK SO!!!#not fair bc harrison loves careless whisper. what are you going to do now about careless whisper #JUST LISTENED TO CARELESS WHISPER ON MY MAKE IT BIG VINYL BTW VINTAGE PRESSING & IT'S SOOO DIFF TO THE #RECORDING I KNOW…!! V DRAMATIC #anyway harrison could be grossly disruptive around me like that’s fine #friend group is a loose term btw he’s talking about Jeremiah’s friends who don’t like him lolllll #lost gods

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ghostlypanda · 2 years

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reasons to watch rise: "man, this is crazy cool. first turtle to ever skate through a crowd totally unnoticed. and his name... is raph."

please support rise of the tmnt by watching the show and movie over on netflix!! 🙏❤️

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise ep mascot melee #rise raph #rise leo #rise donnie #rise mikey #rise splinter #man this ep is just nuts hahah #raph whispering 'have you seen my lost money' is so funny #love the little 'doo doodoo doo's raph does

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logicalbookthief · 2 years

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If you're still taking writing prompts, how about 62 or 72 with Darius and Hunter? 👀 Your choice. I think that anything of yours about those two would be a great read. But no pressure if you already have your plate full!

72. “There’s always another way.”

@thyandrawrites thank you for dadrius prompt and for giving me an excuse to write a one-shot for an AU I will probably not have the chance to write in its totality <3333

Anyway, this basically an AU where the whole Day of Unity/Collector fiasco ends tragically for everyone, but Darius wakes up back in time during the events of Eclipse Lake and thinks he may be able to prevent it, despite the massive amounts of PTSD.

Enjoy!

Darius?

He recognizes that voice. That annoying little voice, pestering him with questions, asking for advice, or his orders. It prods his mind like sunlight peeking through the curtains, urging him awake.

Darius? Darius, wake up!

Waking would be agony. His body remembers, even if his brain has yet to catch up. Veins of gold fracturing up his arm, his shoulder, his neck. His throat tightens, it burns, he can’t breathe, or cry out, they’re too late, it’s too late, to—

Wake up!

Darius shoots up in bed. Eyes flying open, searching for... For the boy, that’s who the voice belongs to, where is...?

Where am I?

His vision swims for another second or so before it clears. He’s alone. Alone in his room.

A room that isn’t in shambles. A castle still in-tact.

Darius yanks down his sleeve. Stares at the skin of his sigil, no longer inflamed, or fractured by scars. He inhales sharply, scrambling to his feet.

The date on the calendar isn’t correct. The date says they have weeks until the Day of Unity, the eclipse, the Collector—

His lungs seize impatiently. Choking on the breath he forgot to let out.

Flummoxed, Darius staggers back, missing the bed and landing hard on the floor. The pain is real, grounding. There’s a layer of dust beneath his fingertips, and that’s real, too; he hasn’t had the time to clean, too focused on averting the end of the world. An end that’s already come to pass.

Am I really...?

Time travel does not exist, he reminds himself, rather deliriously, given the circumstances. How else does he explain this anomaly? Even the Collector’s nigh-infinite power can’t warp the past.

Could it be a trick, an illusion cast over his mind? For what purpose? No, the Collector was just a child too callous when handling his toys. Malicious, yes, not calculating enough for this — whatever cruelty this is.

Darius never paid much heed to the Titan’s will, even prior to the revelation it was all a ruse. If he were a Titan-fearing man, this certainly seems like some divine form of punishment. To force him to witness it all over again, fully aware of the hollow victory their initial failure spawns—all the friends he loses, sacrificed to the greater good, which turned out to be a mediocre good at best—

As far as panic attacks go, it isn’t the worst he’s experienced. Not when he’s intimate enough with death to distinguish the difference now, the what separates this fire-laced fear in his chest from the dread of knowing you and all your loved ones will die as you’re dying.

Tension settles beneath his ribcage, tugging helplessly at his heart. Ignorance is bliss, he thinks, if it means with walking into this rebellion with eyes blinded by hope. Instead of being dragged back while knowing there’s no way to stop—

There’s always another way.

He recognizes that voice, too, even if it’s distorted, as though traveling over a distance. The whisper of it eases his pulse, eases his mind out of its panic, anchoring him in a moment much further in the past.

“Well, I’m no oracle, but…” The Golden Guard surveys the room, deftly dodging a splatter of abomination as it drips from the ceiling. “I suspect you have a shift full of cleaning duty in your future.”

“I can’t get this spell right,” Darius groans, picking flecks of goop out of his hair. “I’ve followed all the instructions, done everything right, and yet—”

He gestures to the cauldron, still bubbling with sinister intent. Mocking him.

“Oof,” the Golden Guard grunts eloquently. He bends down to examine the mixture. “Any idea where you’re going wrong?”

Darius scowls. “Did you miss the part where I mentioned I’ve done everything right?”

“What I mean is,” he interjects, wryly. “Have you tried approaching it from a different angle?”

Frowning, Darius crosses his arms. “This is the way the book says to do it,” he mutters, defensively. Even a hack like Alador can follow the instructions.

The Golden Guard chuckles. “Trust me,” he says, and, though it’s perhaps to his detriment in the long run, Darius does. “There’s always another way.”

Reminded of his mentor’s advice, Darius exhales. Dusts off his clothes. Reassess.

The Day of Unity is weeks away. Belos is still alive, still plotting to destroy every witch in the Boiling Isles. The Day of Unity is weeks away, and Darius knows, he knows precisely what they failed to do before, and precisely what they need to do to ensure it won’t happen again.

Maybe this isn’t a cruel, cosmic joke. Maybe this is a second chance.

He checks the calendar once more. He can’t remember anything remarkable about this day in particular, though it hardly matters, when he intends to change the outcome of it all.

Coven meeting in thirty minutes.

Rushing through his routine, Darius manages to look fairly presentable, all things considered. Operating on muscle memory, he walks through the castle halls without any stumbles, as if he’s never left. It feels a bit like he’s sleepwalking.

“If this is a dream,” he grumbles to himself. “It is a very long, elaborate one.”

Surreal or no, the familiarity will work in his favor. He resolves to appear as normal as possible, since that was the folly of their last plan. Terra suspected Raine from the start and saw the betrayal coming.

Fortunately, Darius’s superior acting will be able to pass the test of scrutiny.

He hears the pitter-patter of claws against the tile, a swoop in the air, and then there’s a weight on his shoulder, the bristle of unruly fur against his cape. Darius stiffens.

Scalpel against his throat, eyes blown wide in fear, a fear he’s rarely witnessed in his friend. Darius can’t move, can’t do anything as he’s restrained, can’t do anything as the draining spell begins, his friend collapsing in pain despite all his efforts to save—

Jumping down off his shoulder, Eberwolf tilts his head. Something wrong?

Darius forces out a scoff. “Nothing of note,” he replies, shortly. Any lingering traces of turmoil could be blamed on irritation. “Didn’t sleep well.”

Eberwolf falls into step aside of him. It’s your bed.

“You have no room to talk. You sleep in a pile of filthy fur pelts on the floor.”

And of the two of us, who looks more rejuvenated? Eberwolf preens.

He scowls half-heartedly, too busy swelling with joy. Titan, he missed this bickering.

Meeting with the coven-heads should be a cinch, now that he’s already had this episode with Eber. He’ll be prepared to handle these emotional outbursts should they try to inconvenience him again.

Nothing prepares Darius for the sight of Raine, standing awkwardly next to Terra, waiting for everyone to arrive.

A bard should never be as silent as this. The draining spell left all of them groggy, weak. Raine has yet to stir. Not even as Eda pleads, and sobs, and cradles their body, which is still except for the gentle rise of their chest.

Whatever strength they needed to wake was used up to save the woman they loved. Even as the world screams, a symphony of terror and noise, Raine remains silent. Catatonic, alive in name only...

“Something the matter, Darius?” asks Terra, an ice-cold echo of Eber’s concern. Her voice snaps him back to the present, realizing he’s now the subject of her undivided curiosity, bordering on suspicion. Fuck.

“Yes,” he deadpans, pointing to Raine’s vest. Today it’s a rotted burgundy color. “That eyesore of an outfit caused a momentary lapse in composure.”

Raine pulls a face, shooting Darius a look. Laying it on a little thick there, aren’t you?

You’ll thank me later, songbird. “Remind me to bleach that image from my eyeballs when we’re done here.”

Terra chuckles, not bothering to hide her amusement. That was the trick with the old crone, he’s learned. Keep her entertained and she’s no trouble.

The meeting goes by without another incident. Darius stalks off on his own in search of “eye bleach” afterwards. It gives him a chance to sift through his swirling thoughts, which keep circling back to how this occurred. He removes time-portals from the equation, since it’s solely his consciousness that’s done the traveling.

Out-of-body experiences reek of oracle magic. Loathe as he is to admit, he could use Odalia’s consult on this, though the cost would be enduring her smugness. However, she was a bit too chummy with Kikimora, as he recalls...

Darius wrinkles his nose. Decides he’d rather eat his own boot than ask her for help.

He’s pondering so intently that he fails to look as he’s turning the corner, colliding right into someone else.

“Watch where you’re going!”

That voice. Full of anger, and no small amount of irritation, as its owner tries to brush past the coven head.

Without a second’s hesitation, Darius catches the kid by the wrist, both of them freezing in the middle of corridor. Suddenly, he’s struggling to breathe past the smell of smoke—

—smoke paints the sky black. Flecks of gold mingled in the ash that springs from the from the pyre.

Belos howls against his bindings, very nearly free. The youngest of the Golden Guards stands vigil.

“This curse of our family ends with you,” he vows, a flame glyph clenched in his fist. His words are grim, final. “And with me.”

Darius realizes too late what he means. He isn’t fast enough.

The wire trips, the trap set—

Hunter glares at his lack of response. "What do you want?" he asks wearily. "And why are you staring at me like—mmph!"

His yelp is muffled against Darius's chest as he’s crushed in an embrace. The boy squirms, radiating his uncertainty. Darius holds tighter, reassured by his fluttery pulse. His hand clasps against hair that’s still blonde, not blackened by soot. Skin not blistered, or burnt, his remains distorted beyond recognition. No, Hunter is alive, and whole, and nothing could ever compel Darius to let go—

Something smears onto glove.

"Ack!" Darius gasps, shoving the boy to arm’s length. He glowers at the state of his clothes. "Gross! You're covered in sludge!"

"Well, it wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn't tried to smother me!" Hunter sputters.

"I wasn't smothering you,” he snaps. “That was a hug. Do you not understand what a hug is?"

“A what?” Hunter exclaims, answering that succinctly. “Did you hit your head recently!? Should I call the healing coven?”

Darius pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. His hand’s trembling, but he doubts Hettie Cutburn has anything that will treat this unique brand of head trauma.

"I was...” He fumbles to explain to Hunter, this Hunter, who has no reason trust his word, steadfastly devoted to the emperor. He hasn’t the faintest clue what sort of danger he’s in. Hasn’t an inkling of the fate that awaits him, a graveyard of golden masks and bones…

Titan, does he even have Flapjack yet? Has he met Eda’s human? Too many liabilities. So many ways this single, persistent child could compromise the mission.

If he was smart, Darius would leave him alone. Claim temporary insanity and push the kid aside, just as he’s done a hundred times before. Hunter would barely notice, accustomed to this kind of neglect.

Besides, the sooner he defeats Belos, the sooner he saves Hunter, and everyone else. When this is over, he can apologize properly, and make up for it, and—

“Let me help,” Hunter beseeches. “I know my uncle better than anyone. And I learned plenty about my family in the human realm,” he adds, grimacing. “I know what I have to do.”

Darius’s exhaustion is bone-deep by this point. Somehow he summons the energy for a smile, threadbare as it is. “Forget it, kid.”

Hunter frowns. “After the draining spell, you’re short on able-bodied witches. I’m no witch, but after all this, you can’t seriously be underestimating me.”

“What about your friends?” Darius retorts. “Would you allow them to join such a mission?”

“They’re kids.” Hunter’s resolve hardens. “Real kids, with families, and homes. I belong here. Fighting, following orders. It’s what I know what to do, what I was made for.”

Stiltedly, Darius opens his mouth, unsure of how to broach the subject. This conversation confirms what he assumed already, that Hunter has no relatives, and nowhere to go.

You could have a home with me, he wants to say, but a shout from Eda draws his attention. It sounds urgent, more important, so Darius shelves the discussion for later. They’ll have time, he thinks, once this is over. It can wait...

“I was checking on you,” he rushes out, stunning the boy into silence. “You look a bit, um. Banged up.”

"Yeah, you would look that way too if you were traipsing around in the mines all day, searching for Titan’s blood.”

“At the Knee?” Darius knits his brow. Belos needs Titan’s blood for the portal. Why send his scouts on a such a fruitless endeavor? “Those mines have been dry for decades.”

“Wish you would’ve told me earlier,” Hunter mumbles. “Nothing left to find there except fool’s blood.”

“Fool’s blood is highly unstable,” Darius says with growing horror. He examines the boy’s face more closely, noting that he’s littered with cuts and bruises, most of it superficial.

“That’s what I said!” Hunter exclaims, throwing his arms in the air. “Try telling the idiot Owl Lady and her rat that.”

So he’s definitely met Edalyn, judging by his utter frustration. Darius huffs out a laugh, short-lived as he glimpses the nasty-looking cut on his forehead, hopefully not caused by any explosions.

He moves to tuck that errant strand of hair out of the way so he can get a better view. Hunter flinches from the touch. “Get away from me,” he says, waspily.

Obligingly, Darius backpedals. “You look like you’re ready to collapse,” he observes, perhaps a bit hypocritically, when he’s teetering over the edge of exhaustion himself.

“Because I’m tired,” Hunter murmurs, the bags under his eyes darker than usual. Despite his admission, he says, “If you’re finished with your weird little interrogation, I have work to do.”

Good, he’s leaving of his own volition. Just let him pass—

Panic blooms in his chest. Burning, frantic and baseless. For Titan’s sake, it isn’t the kid will meet some terrible fate the moment he leaves his sight!

His feet act on their own accord, stepping in front of him and blocking his path. Hunter groans.

“Wait!” Darius halts. Tries to think of something, anything that could detain the boy without drawing suspicion. “Are- Are you hungry?”

Of the excuses he could’ve conjured, that’s a contender for the stupidest.

Hunter opens his mouth, all ready with a snide reply, but he’s interrupted by a long, rumbling growl from his stomach. He flushes, teeth clicking shut.

That’s a yes. Darius smirks victoriously, motioning for Hunter to follow. Reluctantly, the boy complies.

__________________

“Stop staring at me,” Darius snaps, though there’s no heat behind it, unless he counts the steam wafting from his cup. “Didn’t anybody ever teach you manners?”

“I’m confused,” Hunter shrugs by way of response. Darius shoves a tin bowl of cookies in his direction as a distraction.

He didn’t mention that any food in his room was whatever snacks Eberwolf hadn’t eaten from his cheat-day stash.

“You have literally never invited me to tea,” Hunter points out. “Or tolerated me for longer than ten-minute increments.”

“That is... Oddly specific.” And incredibly sad. He acted so arrogant as the Golden Guard, trying to boss around adults that he technically outranked, but who was supposed to take a child seriously? It was such an effective front that it never occurred to Darius that Hunter may be aware of how disliked he was among the coven heads.

There was a lot you didn’t consider.

Oblivious to his guilt, Hunter nods. “Your record is higher than most coven heads. Graye can only stand me for four minutes at best.”

“Maybe I should keep you around,” Darius snorts. “Save me the headache of dealing with him.”

Hunter cracks a smile. He munches on a cookie from the tin, seemingly without a care for how stale they are, quickly grabbing another. While he’s scattering crumbs all over his table, Darius sets his cup down, surreptitiously gathering the medical kit he snuck over with the kettle.

When he realizes his intent, Hunter grunts and bats his hand away. “I told you—”

“Hold still,” Darius barks. Regrets it when Hunter goes rigid, instantly obeying. Softly, he dabs at the cut with disinfectant. “Don’t be , it won’t hurt you. This looks like it smarts, though.”

“This? No,” Hunter scoffs. “I’ve had worse.”

He brandishes this fact proudly, a badge of honor. It comes across rather differently to Darius, a child who doesn’t know any better. His gaze flicks over to the scar on the boy's face and decides they both need a distraction.

Luckily, the boy loves to talk, so Darius asks, “Was your mission a success?”

“It...” He deflates at the question, visibly wavering. “The emperor didn’t seem pleased with me.”

Rage overwhelms his senses, because he knows, he knows now what a displeased Belos means for the boy. He manages to reign in his anger. Barely.

“Oh?” he says, faux-casually.

“I sort of. Disobeyed his orders.” Hunter winces in a way that has nothing to do with the disinfectant. “But! I got what he needed! Which is more than Kikimora can say.”

He smirks at this, although it’s bittersweet at best.

“Any other complications?” Darius fishes, applying a bandage over the cut. “You mentioned the Owl Lady.”

“She was there,” Hunter confirms. “And the youngest Blight.”

Interesting. He files away that information for later.

“We fought over the Titan’s blood, and I...” Hunter dithers for a while, sipping at his tea. His fingers twitch restlessly against the ceramic. “I did what I had to do to win. And I fulfilled my mission, so I should be happy, shouldn’t I?”

He doesn’t wait for a response.

“Only she said some things and I... I didn’t want to fight her, really. Or resort to what I did to win. But it was the Titan’s will that Belos have that key, I did what I was supposed to do.” Hunter dares to glance at Darius, who’s listened patiently up to this point. “So why do I feel like I... Like I did something awful? That’s stupid, right? They were the ones opposing the emperor, after all.”

Being a spy is striking a delicate balance between what’s true and what’s necessary. He could tell Hunter the entire, sordid truth right here, right now ... and he would certainly be executed for treason by the next morning. He should be allowed to come to these conclusions naturally, like he is already, and on his own terms...

...though that’s not to say he couldn’t do with some prodding.

“In the coven, there’s no room for second-guessing. You use any method you have to in order to succeed. The ends justify the means and all that.”

“Exactly! You understand.” Hunter sounds relieved, his shoulders sagging with the weight of it removed.

“I’m afraid it isn’t that easy, little prince.” Darius smiles thinly, closing his eyes against the twinge of a headache. “Whatever you’re willing to do, you have to ask yourself — what is this going to cost me? What am I willing to pay?”

Scalpels. Silence.

Fire, everywhere.

He opens his eyes.

“Never mind the emperor for a moment,” he says, fiercely. Hunter balks, taken aback by this blasphemy. “Will you be able to live with the consequences?”

Hunter fidgets with the hem of his cloak, which has yet to be repaired. “I had to,” he whispers, though to whom, Darius isn’t sure. “It was the only way.”

“There is always another way,” Darius imparts. “That was something your predecessor taught me.”

“You knew the Golden Guard who was before me?” asks Hunter, the words skipping over each other in his excitement. Crumbs spew from the corners of his mouth. “What else did he teach you?

“Not to chew with my mouth open, for one,” Darius grumbles. He bops the crown of his head with the side of his palm, despising how it makes Hunter flinch. He’ll ensure that in his timeline, Belos dies a much slower, painful death. “Sit down. I’ll tell you anything you want about my mentor on one condition.”

Hunter nods eagerly.

“If you get hurt like this again, or at all, you’ll come to me for help.” Darius raises his eyebrows at the kid, awaiting his agreement. “Deal?”

Though he seems rather stunned by the terms, his curiosity outweighs everything else. “Deal.”

#the owl house #toh fic #darius deamonne #hunter toh #dadrius #raine whispers #eberwolf #darius-centric fic that just gives him and hunter more trauma my beloved #he really is like 'oh thank titan I'M the one who time-traveled because I am the most composed I can compartmentalize this no problem'#then he gets one glimpse of his loved ones he thought he lost and has five consecutive mental breakdowns

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uniiiquehecrt · 8 months

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Plz explain then the travesty that is love and thunder

A trainwreck directed by an egotistical six-year-old in a leech of a man's body who thinks he's a screenwriter and still plays pretend with his uwu self-insert OC.

.... real talk, though, in short:

The real travesty of Love and Thunder is that Thor is already made of love and thunder, and simultaneously Jane is the love to his thunder, and the MCU, through taika wai-feck-off, decided he can be neither of those things, and have no nice things. Thor is the most tragic character in the ENTIRETY of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and yes, I do think more tragic than Wanda.

He has lost :

his entire home planet

his people

his entire family of four (no hela does not count he was not connected to her and should have been odin's sister)

before which he lost his brother (his platonic soulmate, to boot) a total of 3 times emotionally, two of those physically

he lost his ENTIRE friend group because his half-sister murdered Volstagg, Hogun and Faendral; he never reconnected with Sif

his only good mentor/parental figure (heimdal) was stabbed through the heart in front of him

he lost his dignity, his crown, his birthright (voluntarily and otherwise)

he lost his self-worth, his sense of direction (bc the writers legitimately thought his arc was about stepping down from the crown instead of making it his own and growing into it in his own way, by his own merits, at his own pace and gave it to some literally no-name side character that showed up for one movie and never respected thor in the first place to even earn his title from him smh)

and taika's idea of rectifying any of this .... is to give him some random child he doesn't know, that he doesn't care for, and manipulate him into taking her under his wing not because of the kindness and limitless love of his own heart even after shutting himself down post!endgame, but because jane asked him to as her dying wish — and then say that THAT is his happy ending.

Tell me why Thor, the longest standing of the Big Three, the king of the stars, the hero who is by all respects the embodiment of love, gets no companionship, no friends, no home, no place to belong, when Tony got a hero's send off and Steve got to be with an alt!dimension Peggy.

#and don't hecking tell me that 'oh but jane had cancer so'#bro i went out of my way to read that comic after i realized how irritated that movie got me #and you know hecking what? JANE COMES BACK #HE USES ALL OF HIS POWER TO /BRING HER BACK/#AND SHE CHOOSES TO COME BACK FROM THE GATES OF VALHALLA #BECAUSE THAT'S HOW MUCH SHE LOVES HIM - AND HOW MUCH HE LOVES HER #AND GOSH DANG IT GANG — mcu deserved that win #JUST ONE #HE DESERVES THE /ONE/ WIN #if he can't live for his people and carry the torch of everyone he has lost by being king #and being the best king he can be and choosing to live and love and survive and /lead/ despite his loss #then AT THE VERY LEAST he deserved to be happy with jane as a vagabond protector and /be/ with her and have his kiddos and be at PEACE #furthermore we really gonna act like the royal line isn't gonna end with thor and that that is a pROBLEM??? LIKE A COSMIC ONE???#like they're not gods and i hate that L+T tries to make them more like the comics when they are n o t literal gods #but gosh dang it the royal asgardian line is like... titan and dare i say /celestial/ tier levels of ridiculous #and thor is the lastoline #we really not gonna talk about that??#&&. meta #salt to taste #&&. whispers #&&. | marvel. |#&&. thor.#anti thor love and thunder #t:l+t #l+t #anon #nonny my love ty for the ask im just so salty about everything taika's gone and rubbed his nasty hands on concerning my boy

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