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tragedysorbet · 1 year ago

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Beautiful With You

A Malstarion Story

So, this is the first post of something I've written I've made in, well, years and I actually kinda like it so I'm feeling brave enough to post it.

Most of my stuff is one off stories, so, I may post more if I'm feeling braver after posting this.

CW: Mentions of enslavement and sexual assault, no graphic depictions. Just to set up parts of Malvaeryon’s back story.

Tags: Astarion x Male OC, Astarion X Male Tav. Boys kissing. Mal's terrible self image. Fluff.

The face that looked back at him in the mirror was a stranger sometimes. A person he knew was himself but had been changed so much by pain both physical and emotional that who he once was seemed unrecognizable.

His eyes mismatched, one pale amethyst the other a baleful, bloody red. His once flawless complexion maimed with a large, three pronged scar across his cheek that creeped over the bridge of is nose. Lips cursed to carry the spider-legged mark of the Goddess who haunted his mind.

The face of someone else. Someone who was beautiful once and had been rendered ugly as a punishment. For being born wrong. For daring to dream of a life that they felt was outside of his station. For trusting someone he should never have trusted in the first place. For having the gall to take a hand offered in help to put an end to being tortured and humiliated until the end of his life.

For simply wanting to live.

For so long, he believed he would never see his real face again. The young prince with the sly smiles and glittering lavender eyes. Who looked at the world with bored indifference and who’s eyes never held the manic gleam of an unhinged fury.

Even now, he knew that man had died in the boudoir of Lolth’s High Priestess. Chained and blindfolded and used by Matron and Acolytes alike until no semblance of that young man remained. To resist was to welcome the bite of their snake headed whips, the sharpness of their knives on his skin to drain his blood if he wouldn’t give them what they wanted, their mind altering spells to force him to give that anyway. All that was left when they finally left him alone was shame, agony and fury.

Malvaeryon endured it as long as he could and finally gave up hope. Retreating into himself and disappearing to survive. Even after he was free from one captor, he fell into the web of far worse. No longer the plaything of her priesthood, he became a pawn of the Spider-Queen herself and lost more of who he was as a result.

It all served to make him feel far smaller than he knew he was. He felt undeserving of things such as love and friendship because who would ever want someone so broken? Who could trust him when he didn’t seem to trust himself?

Yet, somehow, some way, he’d managed to do just that. By the sheer luck of having been captured by mindflayers and infected with an Illithid tadpole, he managed to find himself at the heart of a group of people just like him. Each struggling against a blow fate had already dealt them, yet united to each other whether they liked it or not.

Suddenly, without realizing it, he was forming friendships.

Even more suddenly, he’d fallen in love.

He had never intended to fall as hard as he had. His questionable sanity aside, he always felt unworthy to even think of wanting to love someone let alone be loved in return.

Yet Astarion had found a place in his heart so quickly that it scared him. What started as purely physical had deepened into a love so fierce that it was terrifying. Brought together by forces they could not control, they had forged a bond that was unshakable even after confessing that their demons still haunted them.

Astarion everything to him. He loved the way he smiled and the high tittering sound of his laughter. The sight of his face each morning when they woke up in his tent, his head resting against his chest as he mumbled a quiet “good morning” to him made him smile and then lean down to kiss him, whispering the greeting back. His heart full in a way he never expected it would ever be.

He would kill for him. Die for him. Lay the corpses of his enemies at his feet with but one word from him.

He wondered every day why someone like Astarion wanted to be with someone like him.

As he stood waiting for his companions to finish getting ready to set up camp for the evening, Malvaeryon found himself in the familiar position of looking at his reflection in the mirror by his beloved’s tent. Taking in what he felt were his ruined features and wondering once again how Astarion could bring himself to kiss that face or look at those scars.

Compared to the otherworldly beauty of the vampire himself, he felt that he was somehow less than what Astarion deserved. He needed someone strong and beautiful at his side. Not a broken, maimed wretch like him. And yet the thought that one day Astarion would realize that terrified him far more than any nightmare or vision he’d ever had.

He frowned at his reflection, thinking of ways he might change his appearance to look less like something from a nightmare when the feeling of arms encircling his waist and the icy touch of cold lips pressed softly to his cheek pulled him from his thoughts. He was startled, but didn’t flinch as once he might have. Instead, he could only smile and turn his head to catch those lips in a soft kiss.

“Hello, beautiful.” Astarion purred, a sly grin on his face when he pulled back from the kiss and nodding towards the mirror. “Enjoying the view, I see.”

“More like staring at the wreckage.” Mal admitted with a small smile in response, turning away from the mirror to fully face Astarion. His arms draping over his shoulders as he leaned in to press another kiss to his forehead. “I much prefer this view. It’s prettier.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow at that and glanced from Mal to the mirror and back again. He knew he was trying his best to keep a playful front, but Astarion had the most uncanny knack for seeing straight to the heart of him. He could fool anyone on or under Faerûn but he could never seem to fool him. Not for an instant.

When he looked back at him, his hand lifted and touched the Drow’s cheek, his thumb tracing one of the three lines of the scars on his face as he looked at him thoughtfully. Despite himself, Malvaeryon’s eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into the cold touch of Astarion’s hand. Loving any affection given to him, no matter how small.

“Don’t close your eyes, Darling. Look at me.” Astarion said with a slight tut, smiling when Mal’s eyes blinked open in surprise. There was a warmth in his gaze that he had only recently began to show him and it was there now. Soft. Loving. Accepting. Looking at him and seeing him as he was.

“Hmm. You know, that mirror’s not a very good one. I think the silver in it’s warped.” Astarion said, tilting his head to once side as he let his gaze wander from Mal’s face to look at the rest of him. “You’ll need a better one if you want to know what you really look like.”

“Oh?” Mal asked with a faint laugh, his own gaze reflecting back adoration as he watched the vampire looking him over. “I don’t suppose you know where we can find a better one, do you?”

“My love, why ever would you need one when you have me? Follow me and I’ll be your mirror.” Astarion asked with a laugh, slipping out of his arms and taking his hands. He tugged gently, stepping backwards to guide him away from the tent and to a part of the camp that was a little more secluded.

Mal couldn’t deny feeling a little amused. It hadn’t been that long ago that Malvaeryon had done the same for him. He recalled telling him about his piercing eyes and his dangerous smile. When really his heart had been focused on the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed or the way his hair curled around his ears.

He allowed himself to be lead away from the tent, passed the others and up the stairs of the ruined tower they’d decided to stay at before making their way into Rivington in the next day or so. Ravens scattered away in a flurry of dark feathers as they reached the top. The light of full moon shone that night, bright and clear, chasing away any shadows Mal might try to retreat into.

“Perfect.” Astarion said as he looked up into the cloudless night. The light of the moon making the silver of his hair seem like starlight, giving Mal the sudden desire to run his fingers through it if his hand wasn’t firmly held in Astarion’s. It was such a shame that he couldn’t see how truly breathtaking he was. If he could, he’d give up his own reflection just so the man he loved could finally see his own.

“Now. Shall I tell you what you want to hear or would you like the truth, my darling?” Malvaeryon’s attention was once again pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his voice and the question posed go him made him blink. His tone was light but the words made him unsure.

“Because if I tell you what you want to hear, I would say that the scar on your cheek is hideous. Your eyes unnerving. The mark on your lips inspires fear and distrust and makes the whole camp question every word that comes out of your mouth.” He continued, waving a hand dismissively as he spoke.

Mal couldn’t help but flinch as his every negative thought was laid bare. It was strange to hear it out loud. And to hear it all in his lover’s voice made it all the more difficult to listen to. He knew it was what he wanted to hear, according to Astarion. But his self-doubt made it feel as though it were all the truth.

“Not exactly nice things to say about someone I happen to care a great deal about, Malvaeryon.” Astarion tutted, giving him a look as though he were scolding him. Wagging a finger at him disapprovingly. “They’re lies, if I’m being honest. Complete slanders, really.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask the truth.” Mal replied with a faint laugh. Not quite sure if he could handle more after that when the hand that held his pulled him close. The other cupped under his chin and pulled Malvaeryon into a soft, slow kiss. The kind Astarion had begun giving him entirely of his own accord each morning and night.

A promise, he’d said, that he would be there while he dreamed and would still be there when he woke up. A reassurance to the both of them that what they were was real. And that what they were was real.

Malvaeryon’s eyes closed slowly as he let himself relax into it. Kissing back gently, his hand reaching up to hold Astarion’s wrist while the other gripped his shoulder.

“But. That is not what I see when I look at you.” The high elf breathed softly as he pulled back slowly, his lips still brushing his as he spoke. With one finger he traced the lines of the scars on his cheek then trailed it slowly underneath his jawline. The action making him sigh and tilt his face in the direction of the touch.

“What do you see, Astarion?” He asked quietly, letting the words leave him. Lulled into a sense of calm by the touch of his finger tips along his skin. His eyes opened, half lidded, to look at him. His heart and all his hope in his eyes. Suddenly needing to know more than he realized.

“Why, the man I love, of course.” Astarion replied matter of factly. “You should see him. He’s got the face of an angel. With skin the shade of wisteria in perfect sunlight and soft as silk.”

He caressed his cheek with the back of his hand as if to prove his point and it made Mal shiver just slightly. Surrendering to Astarion’s affection. Feeling lucky to be the recipient of something he gave to nobody else but him.

“You make him sound so handsome.” He said with a slight shake of his head, speaking of himself as thought they were discussing someone else. Finding it not the least bit strange. It was no different than the silly hypothetical questions they’d ask each other in bed each night. Asking each other would they still have fallen in love if they knew each other before, when Astarion was a magistrate and Malvaeryon a prince. Wondering what it might have been like if they’d never been on the Nautiloid. If Mal was still an assassin for hire would he kill Cazador if Astarion asked him to.

Would you still love me if you knew how beautiful I used to be?

“He’s so much more than that. He’s an absolute vision. His eyes are like two gems glittering in the dark. One the pale amethyst of a summer twilight. The other a bright red, like blood on fresh snow.” Astarion replied, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from Mal’s face before threading his fingers through it. “His hair is like a stream of starlight. Silver with streaks of ethereal blue catching when the light hits it just right. And his lips… oh, his lips…”

He sighed and kissed him again. It was as if he’d been waiting the whole time they’d been together to kiss him as often as he could. There was no over the top theatrical passion to it as it had been at the start. No need to lure Malvaeryon in. Not when he surrendered his mouth eagerly, his arms wrapping around him, hands gripping lightly at the back of his shirt as he kissed him back. Astarion’s kisses had become soft and slow and lingering. Full of love as much as desire. There was a need to them that was just as great as when he fed on him each evening.

It was as if he needed those kisses in order to live, too.

They were both dazed and smiling when they pulled apart. Astarion giving a short little laugh as he trailed softer kisses along his jaw to his neck.

“You are perfect. Every time.” He said softly nuzzling into his neck. “I’ve completely forgotten what I was talking about.”

“You were telling me about how much you liked the love of your life's lips.” Mal replied, tilting his head back. Exposing his throat almost on instinct after so many nights of being Astarion’s favorite midnight snack.

“I do. They’re soft and oh so kissable. His neck, too.” Astarion’s teeth nipped lightly over the two puncture scars on the prince’s neck as his hands slid from his hair, his arms draping over his shoulders. He reluctantly leaned away from his neck, a hungry look in his eyes that was unmistakable, but there was another deeper meaning in the dark scarlet of his gaze. A sincerity that cut Malvaeryon to the heart.

“You’re beautiful, Mal. One look and anyone with eyes can see that.” He said the faint teasing tone fading from his voice. The look in his eyes commanding Malvaeryon to meet his gaze and not to look away, no matter how much he wanted to blush and look down at his feet.

“Nothing that they did to you could ever change that for me. Because they also could never change what’s truly beautiful about you.” His right hand slipped from his shoulder to rest over Malvaeryon’s chest. His heart beat beneath it as strong as ever. Perhaps it was racing from all the kisses and attention. His gaze fell to where his hand came to rest and it only fluttered all the harder.

“This. Right here. This precious heart that only I get to hold.” He closed his eyes and bent to kiss just over his heart beat then kissed him lightly on the lips when he came back up. “I can’t say that I’ve had much luck at anything in the last two centuries. But every night hold you and hear the sound of your heart beating, I consider myself the luckiest man in the world. Because all of this, inside and out, is all mine.”

“I love you.” He said after a moments thought, as if finally able to say the words after holding them back for so long.

The words seemed to stop his thoughts in their tracks. They were ones they’d said before, half serious. Said only in playful tones and thought over obsessively later on when they were alone. Neither of them brave enough to actually say it.

And Astarion just said them without a shred of irony. No little laugh to say he was joking. No quick change of the subject. He said it first. And the look in his eyes said that he meant every word.

“I… I love you.” Malvaeryon whispered so softly he almost wasn’t sure he had spoken at all. His gaze falling once more to the hand on his heart as he moved a hand to hold it. He lifted it to his lips and soft kissed Astarion’s knuckles. “I love you, Astarion. More than anything.”

There was a tremble in his voice and a sting in his eyes. He felt as if he’d just spoken a long held secret and now he was bracing for the inevitable betrayal. The cruel laughter. The mocking words.

Yet none came. Instead the hand he held only tightened it’s grip and he found himself kissed again. And again and again. Until all that frightened tension left him and he kissed him back. Lost in him. His mind forgetting all about his past and about mirrors and scars.

He thought only of him. Of a future they would share together once all was said and done. He finally allowed himself the luxury of hope. Allowed himself to feel worthy of being loved. And of loving Astarion in return.

When they pulled apart again, Astarion stepped back and pulled him along with him once more. Back to the camp where his tent awaited them both. A promise in his eyes that that wasn’t the last kiss they’d share that night.

Nor the last time he’d whisper those three little words to him.

And as Malvaeryon allowed himself to be lead back to the place they both currently called home, he finally felt beautiful.

Because Astarion loved him.

#astarion x male oc #astarion x male tav #Malvaeryon #astarion ancunin #malvaeryon tet'hys #malstarion #astarion x tav #astarion

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sergeanthatredbignaturals · 1 month ago

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Before the new Prime Asset(s) drop, I’m posting about my new Prime Asset OC

I would draw her, but I’m getting Joan’s reference images done for Artfight… so it’ll be like August before I get around to her 😭

But enough yapping (skip to big text to actually hear about her and not my inspo)

I suspect the new Assets are going to have something to do with chemicals, so I’m posting this bitch so no one can go “you copied the new assets” 😁

Anyway, I saw this on Tiktok in a slideshow

And I think it’s been marinating in my brain since, as i had an idea randomly pop into my head a couple days back for a Prime Asset character

So basically

She has a mask kinda like that, but it pumps in did gasses which do different things, she has a wheel on her hip to push out different gasses, and she has about 3 (liable to change) tanks on her back (like hanging off her belt kinda)

Because of her mask, some of her voice lines are muffled. You cant really make out what shes saying with it on, and sometimes she forgets to take it off. Also if she does remember to remove it, most of the lines start with breathy coughing due to the gas shes inhaling.

There’s a green gas, which is on most of the time, keeping her sorta like Pushers. Kinda sorta not really. Basically girls high the whole time.

There’s an orange gas, which functions sorta like the adrenaline injections do, as shes the physically weakest of the Prime Assets, and needs the assist for short range attacks. Note, this only affects strength, not speed or stamina.

On the topic of speed, that’s what the pink gas does. It gives her a drastic increase in movement speed, however it’s not great to inhale. The body cannot breathe it, so after like 10 seconds of increased speed, she falls over/clings onto something, and rips her mask off, panting, coughing, and trying to get a breath of air in. She could be literally on you when this happens, and she’ll be unable to attack due to partial asphyxiation.

Her trails are also submerged in gas. As a reagent, you’ll be constantly at one bar of psychosis.

Her attacks, as you probably gathered, are primarily long range. She throws different things at you. Some are grenades that detonate into psychosis, noxious, or otherwise impairing (e.g. temporarily decreasing stamina) gas, or a vial of fluid. Typically acid.

Her execution for downed reagents is her prying their mouth open, uncorking a bottle from her belt, and pouring it in the reagents mouth. Before standing up and watching them writhe in agony before succumbing.

This is also kinda how I incision her mouth (without the tongue obvi), but instead of scarring it’s fully slit open. She also has artificially sharpened/elongated teeth. Because of this, her mouth moves strangely as it has to accommodate more tooth matter than it was designed for.

She also has acrylics. Because those were a thing by this point according to the brief Google search I did, and I think she deserves claws.

Also I don’t have a name for her yet…

#prime asset oc #the outlast trials oc #outlast oc #outlast trials oc #outlast #outlast trials #the outlast trials

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ammonitetheseaserpent · 2 years ago

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Moar MD OC info because my mind has been INJECTED with. basically an entire small, interwoven story since the first post where I introduced the concepts.

This is uh. gonna be a long post

Serial Designation Q

- If I had to sum up his personality in a few words, they would be ‘chill chaos’.

- The drug-like substance he consumes affects the light he gives off, which is what allows her to shift its color.

- Her fighting/hunting style is kinda reckless, like a honey badger; mainly leaning on brute force, sheer determination and the light trick.

- She doesn’t exclusively do psychedelic effects with his lights for hunts, though - it has entertainment value for him as well.

- Also yee she’s bigender :D

- (I’m starting to debate calling her Q instead for uh. standout purposes. cause I’ve seen a few Ys by now and I don’t wanna cause confusion hhhnshsjdbdb Edit: made the change; I think Q fits him better now that I mull it over :0)

Weird Frog

- That’s the JP-Dilo-Sentinel (name given by Q).

- It guards Celadon’s residence with the Packleader, and was built to give the Sentinels more variety.

- It is particularly small and fast and, instead of the stun stare, the sound of its screech gives off an AoE effect to temporarily paralyze any nearby drone who hears it.

- It has a very playful attitude, putting its all into fending off attackers but also having fun with it; y’know that one scene in Agony of a Witch where Hooty was fending off Lilith and the EC. Yeah uh. that’s pretty much WF in a nutshell.

- It’s quite curious and won’t immediately attack a lone drone it sees approaching the residence unless that drone is clearly looking to be a threat.

The Packleader Sentinel

- It’s the primary guard of Celadon’s residence, and sort of a parental figure to Weird Frog.

- Its stun stare is stronger than that of an average Sentinel, to the point where the flash can cause a bit of lasting damage in drones.

- It was basically built to be like. the Final Boss of the regular Sentinels. Like, something to fall back on if the need arose.

- This one’s a bit silly but: I imagine it was designed based off the Indoraptor and Scorpios Rex like. in-universe. Cause Liam said that the Sentinels were made raptors bc the humans just. liked dinosaurs and thought they were cool. So I imagine the Jurassic Park/movies being in this universe, and while they’re working on the Packleader someone just goes ‘hey what if we based it off those freaky-looking hybrid dinos, like the one that’s a raptor but bigger and creepier :0’.

Avarice SOL

- He was the result of a faulty one-off experiment.

- He has a powerful, insatiable drive to take parts of drones to build on his own form, and bothers Celadon on a regular basis (as stated in the previous post) bc the Hellsinger residence has a lot of what he wants.

- He stole a drone’s voicebox so he can speak, and… I imagine him sounding like that one mackerel in that one Dexter’s Laboratory episode.

Cure PHX

- They were started by Celadon’s parents in order to combat Disassembly Drones. Celadon later finished them, adding the healing abilities they now have.

- Not only can they release a signal to shut off physical pain in other bots, they also have ankle spurs to secrete a substance that’s basically the bot equivalent of melatonin.

- Their functions can be a bit wonky sometimes, and the full power of the UV light/radiation from their wings is only meant to be used in short bursts; too long will cause them delirium from the excess heat and power.

- They’re fully sentient, though due to the nature of their creation, their voicebox is kinda messed up and can produce garbled, birdlike sounds that take effort to form into words - I imagine Cure sounding somewhat like half-healed Centipeetle from Steven Universe.

Celadon Hellsinger

- Her residence is kind of run-down but she refuses to patch it up bc it ‘enhances the elusion factor’.

- She owns a weapon called the Frequency Gauntlet (I uh. stole the name from a mobile game called Monster Legends if I’m being completely frank) that was p much the pet project of her parents and grandparents. they all collaborated to make it.

- The aforementioned Hellsingers are gone now, so she just lives w/ Cure and the two Sentinels (speaking of the two Sentinels her parents basically. donned the FG and stole them very sneakily; I haven’t decided if they were stolen b4 they were put in with the other Sentinels and so they were more chill with drones they didn’t see as a threat, or if the Hellsingers tweaked their programming but uh. yeh)

- She’s usually sort of a pacifist; not nearly as concerned w/ actively confronting and doing battle w/ the DDs as her parents were, and is perfectly content with hiding from them (which doesn’t work out too bad as the Hellsingers made their residence as secluded and unnoticeable as they could to reduce the possibility of being tracked down).

- She’s aroace bc uh. yeh

Extra story bit

- Basically uh. Q happened upon Celadon’s residence at some point while traveling wherever and went over to get a closer look. He was met halfway by Weird Frog, and the two quickly became friendly toward each other. Then later, through WF as a common thread, Q met Celadon and now they’re… not friends, exactly, more like. acquaintances on peaceful terms. and they act a bit like siblings. Q thinks Celadon is cool, while Celadon is a bit more hesitant and often baffled by his antics.

#murder drones #murder drones ocs #md ocs #my ocs #original characters #random snippets of my day

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fleigies-cat · 1 year ago

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Sometimes I question what I am.

Do I fit the molds? I don’t hyperfixation, or at least I don’t seem to. I know I have ADHD because my brain goes a million miles an hour and I sometimes struggle to function as a normal person because brain doesn’t want to cooperate. But do I hyperfixate? I don’t know!

I don’t think I have vocal stims, unless you count singing along to songs without lyrics, or randomly uttering various things like clock is ticking~, tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick-tick tock, or quoting random things.

Am I aromantic? I’ve never felt an attraction to anyone real or false since one time in kindergarten, for a fifth grader, or at least I don’t think I did.

I don’t know what I am, I can’t describe how I feel because brain no worky, and I hate it. But hey, that clock certainly is ticking. That’s an Incredibox Travis reference, said by Watchmaker AKA voice 5.

I know stuff, I can write or type about stuff, but the second I try to speak it my goddam stutter shows up and ruins everything and I hate it. I have steam and then every single thing falls apart and I lose whatever I had going for me in explaining the thing.

This post is so rambly.

Thankfully, Tumblr has allowed me to vocalize some stuff, the thing about being in a horrid state because body wanna do stuff but brain not cooperate thus exist in agony came from a tumblr post I saw.

I’m strange. I’m weird. I exist. I’m here. I’m a figure on the internet, a being nobody will ever physically meet. You’ll never know what I look like, but I can provide a summation.

I apparently scare my friends with the sheer number of OCs I have.

You wanna know why I have so many Ocs, random person who’s reading this that doesn’t exist?

Because I can’t draw to save the universe. I don’t do art of my Ocs which allows me to describe and then move on. And boy do I move on. I get hyper fixated until I put too much into something and then I abandon it.

Speaking of art by the way, every single time I’ve posted it I got no reaction, and I take my parents’ compliments as false so that’s fun.

This post has turned into nothing more than whatever comes to my head, I need a better diary doc I swear to god.

I have more I could say but hey. Nobody cares.

#rambles

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lloydskywalkers · 5 years ago

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planetary go

me: hey this would be a great time to actually do some of that oc development I’ve been planning for the last two years

also me: lloyd has no good very bad spiderman day

i’ve had this in my drafts for...over a year now, i think?? it’s entirely self-indulgent and i was very much committed to never posting it ever, but it’s oc day, so. maybe i will leave it up for five minutes before hiding it again gdhjkfg

(for background, the oc is Rachel, who’s Brad’s friend from school and a useless nerd, and one day i’ll actually take the ideas i have for her further, but today she’s just a kid who got her hands on an axe)

In theory, bringing Lloyd on their school’s annual planetarium field trip sounded like a great idea. Brad’s been trying to get Lloyd to hang out with them in a normal setting for forever now, and he knows that, as much as Rachel secretly enjoys waving at Lloyd during life-or-death situations because deep down she’s an adrenaline maniac, he also knows she’s been wanting to have five minutes of peace and normality with him as well.

As for Lloyd, Brad’s pretty sure he doesn’t even know what that is, but there’s always time for a learning curve.

Plus, Lloyd deserves it. As soon as Brad managed to get wind that the only education his friend’s had is Darkley’s — which is a tragedy, honestly — he’d started scheming a way to sneak Lloyd into his school. Only for the fun stuff, of course — he’s not about to subject Lloyd to the horrors of Pre-Cal, or AP Physics.

A field trip, though, is perfect. All the fun parts of school, without the actual busy work or potentially anxiety-inducing memories of school hallways. Sure, the planetarium their school insists on visiting is boring as it gets, but it’s still better than math class. It’s a full hour-long bus ride away, too, which means that by the time the teachers or the ninja catch wind what’s happened, they’ll be home free.

(Well, Brad thinks so. If Lloyd didn’t end up clearing this trip with the ninja and snuck out instead, he’s not sure their school bus is up to outrunning a bunch of dragons. It’d be funny to watch, though.)

The point is, it had been a great idea, until Rachel went and fell asleep in the first five minutes. Which would’ve been fine, except Lloyd took one look at her and decided that he liked the idea of being asleep too, so now Brad’s lost two friends to naps, and he kinda needs them awake, because hour-long bus rides are boring.

He eyes the two where they’re sleeping in disdain. Some friends they are. He contemplates shoving them both off the school seats for a second, and watching them sprawl all over the floor like a pair of idiots, but he decides against it. Lloyd’s packing a little too much power, and he’s seen Rachel when she’s angry. Also, he watched the news report this morning, and he knows the kind of night Lloyd had. Brad’s still trying to figure out how he doesn’t have ugly bruising all up the left side of his face, much less a decent night’s sleep.

Nah, he’ll let them sleep for now. He can read Lloyd’s comics in the meantime, since he doesn’t have school books. Brad can be nice, when he wants to. Not that it’s going to make up for the hour long bus ride on his own, but he can suck it up this once, he supposes.

If only that had been the worst of his problems today.

*********

“This is a terrible plan.”

“What do you mean?” Brad’s eyebrows furrow. “This was your plan.”

“Well, yeah, okay, fine, but I mean—” Rachel shrinks in her seat, still rubbing sleep from her eyes as she glances around at her classmates on the bus warily. “I didn’t really think it through,” she mutters.

Brad rolls his eyes. “Kai’s not gonna find out, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh, it’s not Kai I’m worried about,” Rachel scoffs. “I figured that out. Lloyd was right, Kai’s just a big softie. It’s Nya you gotta worry about.”

Brad scoffs. “Wimp.”

“Fine, you can face her down when she comes at us with all the wrath of god for hijacking Lloyd for the day.”

Lloyd shifts guiltily where he’s crammed in the seat between them, jacket hood pulled over his head, as it that’s gonna hide who he is. “I don’t have to come, guys.”

“Yes, you do,” Brad immediately responds.

“We want you to come,” Rachel says, emphatically.

“You can’t just ditch us, you’re the only exciting part of this dumb field trip,” Brad adds. “Plus, it’s like, way too late to back out now. We’re ten minutes from the planetarium, you should’ve spoken up earlier.”

“You deserve a normal day out,” Rachel steamrolls over Brad. “You’re coming.”

“Okay,” Lloyd says, still unsure as he glances around. He’s starting to wonder how, exactly, he managed to sleep through the better part of this trip. The West Ninjago High school bus is chaos incarnate, the high school students crammed in the seats all chattering loudly and occasionally chucking everything from straws to entire notebooks at each other.

Maybe he should get his reflexes checked, he thinks dully. Then again, it’s not like the school bus is an immediate threat. It’s pretty nice, actually — a lot nicer than the buses they used to have at school the guys taught at, at least.

“We do need to work on your disguise, though,” Rachel mutters, surveying his outfit. Lloyd tugs anxiously on the school jacket Brad lent him, the dark blue fabric scratchy and uncomfortable. Luckily, Brad and Rachel’s school doesn’t require a uniform, so his casual outfit blends in just fine. The jacket’s just a field trip requirement.

Why he’s crashing their field trip, he’s yet to figure out, but they’d made it sound fun, and he hadn’t had anything better to do today, so Lloyd Garmadon’s now Brad’s distant cousin from Metallonia. They haven’t decided on his fake name yet, because Rachel wants to use Luke Skywalker, and while Lloyd isn’t great at going undercover, he’s not that bad.

“Here,” Rachel says, rifling through her backpack. She pulls out a pair of glasses, unfolding them and handing them off to him. “The lenses are fake, don’t worry.”

Lloyd stares at the glasses in his hands. “This is my disguise?”

“Yeah,” Brad nods. “Like Clark Kent.”

“Clark Kent has the most obvious disguise ever.”

“Yeah, but no one ever finds him out.”

“Because it’s the comics. This is my life. Something’s gonna go wrong.”

Rachel doesn’t seem to share his concerns, pushing the glasses toward his face. “Just put them on?”

Lloyd sighs, complying. He slides the glasses on, frowning at the unfamiliar weight. “There,” he grumbles. “How do I look?"

Brad snorts, but he gives him a thumbs up. Rachel turns a weird color and coughs quickly, before saying what Lloyd’s pretty sure is “they’re alright”.

He’ll take it.

“So I’m good to go?” he asks, glancing at the teacher up front anxiously.

Brad and Rachel stare at him. Lloyd isn’t a fan of the looks on their faces.

“Well, you’re gonna have to…talk with your mouth closed a little more,” Brad winces. “The uh, the teeth.”

Lloyd shuts his mouth tightly. Right. His genetics.

“And um…” Rachel bites her lip. “Is there any way you could, like…turn the brightness down?”

Lloyd frowns. “The what?”

“The uh—“ Rachel gestures to her own dark brown eyes. “The eyes.”

Lloyd folds his arms, glaring at them. “This is part-human discrimination.”

“It is not—“

“Yeah, the only part we’d discriminate you for is the lame part—“

“We’re just trying to make sure no one figures out you’re a big ninja celebrity!”

Rachel immediately claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Lloyd sinks lower into his seat, and Brad cringes.

“Sorry,” Rachel whispers.

Fortunately, no one else seems to have overheard, or they simply just don’t care. Lloyd straightens up a bit, still wary, but he uncrosses his arms.

“Yeah, I get it,” he sighs. He closes his eyes, focuses briefly on the thrumming power that’s always in his veins, then opens them.

Rachel looks guilty, and Brad snorts.

“They’re, um, they’re red now.”

Lloyd bites back a curse. “Darn it.”

By the time they reach the planetarium, Lloyd’s finally got his eyes to stay a color Rachel says could be normal, and Brad says is lame. Lloyd’s eyes are itching, and he’s starting to have seconds thoughts about this, because the kids in the seat across from him are giving him weird looks.

“D’you think they recognize me?” he asks Rachel under his breath, pulling his hood back up over his head.

Rachel looks over, and her lips pinch. “I don’t think so,” she says. She gets a weird look on her face. “I think they just…like you.”

“Like me?” Lloyd frowns. “They don’t even know me. I haven’t even said one word to them.”

Rachel stares at him, the weird look replaced by a blank one. “Lloyd.”

“Yeah?” he blinks.

“Never mind,” Rachel sighs, and Brad snickers. “Hey, we’re here.”

Lloyd’s stomach does a little flip, which is ridiculous, because he’s faced things ten thousand times more terrifying than a field trip. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s got a miserable track record with disguises, and really just acting in general?

Yeah, that could be it, Lloyd thinks. He never could pull off accents, unless you wanted like, an Oni one, which was useless anyways, because any Oni would probably just kill him for being a blood traitor on the spot, and anyone else who heard it would go running for the hills, or lock him up, or—

“—c’mon, Lloyd, we’re going!”

Lloyd snaps back as Brad shoves at him, forcing him out of the seat and into the aisle. He stumbles in with the other high schoolers crammed in the bus, all fighting to get to the front exit first, and is immediately onset by claustrophobia.

“Move it, people, come on—” Rachel shoulders her way past him, shoving the people in front of them until they’re stumbling forward, gradually thinning up the crowd. “I hate this bus,” she grumbles beneath her breath. “It’s like a mosh pit, but without any of the fun."

“I can start kicking kneecaps in,” Brad offers.

Rachel glances back at him, unimpressed. Lloyd considers it briefly, before quickly schooling his expression into “unimpressed” as well. Brad deflates.

Rachel finally gets them out by sheer value of being taller than most of the other kids, and Lloyd can’t help but be grateful as she tugs him in front of her, letting him escape the bus first. This last about half a second, because he immediately comes face-to-face with their teacher.

“Uh. Hi,” Lloyd says, weakly, as the teacher frowns at him.

“I don’t remember you,” he mutters glancing down at his clipboard, where he’s been checking off students. “Do you sit toward the back?”

“Ah, no, sorry, he’s with us!” Rachel says quickly, coming to his rescue. “He’s a visitor, just checking out the school, y’know?”

The teacher narrows his eyes. “Is that so,” he says, and Lloyd shrinks under his gaze. “And you’re who, now?”

“He’s my cousin,” Brad answers for him. “Luh — Floyd. Floyd…Calrissian?”

Rachel makes a muffled sound of agonized exasperation. Lloyd has to violently stifle the urge to stomp on Brad’s foot.

“Yeah, Floyd,” Brad nods, steamrolling ahead. “He lives out of city, in, um…“

“Ignacia,” Lloyd says, seizing on the name.

“Ignacia, yeah!” Brad snaps his fingers. “You know how it is there, real small town. He’s checking out schools here, so I thought I’d…bring him along…for the day.”

The teacher stares at them all for a beat, then shakes his head, looking uninterested. “You’re supposed to check him in, you know, but we’re already here. Nothing for it now. Keep an eye on him, Tudabone. Miss Lennox, you keep an eye on them both.”

“Yes, sir,” Rachel says, ignoring the face Brad’s making. “Thanks, sir.”

She seizes both their arms, dragging them away before Brad can make any kind of undoubtedly snarky remark. Lloyd’s too relieved to be out of the teacher’s stare to complain about being manhandled — he hadn’t realized how much he didn’t like teachers. Real good to know that he’s scarred for life thanks to Darkley’s, apparently.

“I thought you were gonna be from Metallonia,” Rachel hisses at him as they pass through the sliding doors, interrupting his train of thought.

Lloyd bristles. “I blanked, okay? It was the first thing I could think of on the spot. At least I did better than Brad.” He glares at him. “Lafloyd? That’s my name now?”

“It’s better than whatever you could come up with,” Brad shoots.

“Really?” Rachel turns on Brad. “‘Cause — Floyd Calrissian? Seriously? And you gave me heck for wanting to call him Luke.”

“Whatever, Miss Lennox, snooty teacher’s pet—”

“Oh, just ‘cause I didn’t spray-paint the teacher’s lounge—”

“Hey, here’s a fun idea, why don’t you drop it.” Lloyd glares at them both, immediately silencing them. Rachel makes a face, but her cheeks darken, and Brad glances at the floor. Lloyd watches his sneakers on the linoleum, where bright colored solar systems have been inlaid in fun little patterns.

“Lafloyd is a funny nickname,” Rachel suddenly remarks, quietly.

Lloyd stares at her, hoping it conveys the utter, crushing betrayal. Rachel just grins brightly back at him.

“Lafloyd Calrissian, from Metallnacia,” Brad snickers, and Lloyd feels a headache coming on.

At least it’s not Lloydkins, he tries to convince himself. Floyd is not the most awful option here. It could be worse.

*********

The planetarium is actually pretty cool, more so than Brad was selling it as when he termed it “the most boring school trip conceived”. The domed, dark room is quiet and comfortable, and Lloyd could go for a really long nap in here, if time permitted. But then the ceiling lights up in constellations and the teacher starts introducing some visiting Serpentine professor, and Lloyd figures taking another nap would probably be rude. He’s here to hang out with Brad and Rachel, after all, he can’t sleep through the whole thing.

Plus, astronomy is fun, now that he’s getting to actually learn about it from a nice planetarium seat, as opposed to hurtling through space on a nindroid spaceship in a desperate attempt to stop the Overlord from ending the world.

Not that it’s going to stop him from bragging about it.

“I’ve been on an asteroid,” Lloyd remarks under his breathe, as the professor starts detailing the orbital paths of comets. “It’s not as cool as it sounds.”

Rachel chokes where she’s sitting beside him, coughing out what might be a laugh. Brad stares at him, before casting his eyes to the ceiling digging his hands in his hair. “Of course you have,” he mutters. “Why not. Been to six different realms, what’s one asteroid?”

“You’ve been to other realms?!” Rachel hisses, looking equal parts flabbergasted and wildly interested. “Which ones? What were they like? Did you make it to that one that’s supposed to have fire-breathing dogs?”

“Shh!”

All three of them shrink in their seats as the teacher hushes them. Lloyd swaps looks with Brad, who’s already smirking at the familiarity.

Lloyd grins back, a bubble of happiness rising in his chest. His recently-rebuilt friendship with Brad has been slow-going at best — mostly because of how busy Lloyd’s schedule always is — and he’s been quietly fearing that the bridge their friendship was built on might’ve been a little too burned to build back. That there’s too much distance between them now, with how different their lives are.

It’s nice to proven wrong, he thinks. In fact, this entire field trip thing was a good idea, in hindsight. He’s having a pretty good—

The back door slams open with an almighty crash, and several shrieks ring out as a frazzled, deranged-looking man in a stained lab coat stands highlighted in the doorway, one accusing finger pointed toward the Serpentine lecturer.

“And you thought you could escape me, you halfwit snake.”

—oh for crying out loud.

“You,” the lecturer says, his face paling as he takes a noticeable step back. “You’re supposed to be in prison.”

“It didn’t agree with me,” the man cackles, his expression manic under the spiraling lights of the solar system. Brad and Rachel’s classmates are rooted to their seats, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes like some terrible soap opera. Their teacher’s kind of just gaping at the entire thing, like he can’t believe this is happening. Lloyd can completely sympathize.

“Should we call the police?” Brad whispers uncertainly, his eyes wide.

“No way, the police are useless,” Rachel hisses back. “Lloyd, use your zappy power-thing.”

The crazy guy continues before Lloyd can form a response. “So you’ve regressed to teaching now, have you? How the mighty have fallen.” A leer drags up the corners of his mouth, and Lloyd’s hair stands on end. Nope, he doesn’t like that—

“Luckily for you, I perfected the serum even without your help,” the guy continues, and the lecturer makes a strangled sound of horror as he pulls out a syringe. “Or unluckily for you, I should say."

The deranged man then grins, looking entirely too unhinged, and Lloyd’s stomach drops. He’s on his feet before his brain can catch up, ignoring Brad and Rachel’s yelps of alarm as instinct wired into his limbs drives him towards the guy before he can do anything, because Lloyd knows that look and he’s definitely going to do something—

“This is the turning point, old friend,” Crazy Guy hisses. “Now, no one will ignore me, ever again!”

He raises his hand, the syringe glinting in the dim lights of the planetarium. Lloyd puts on a burst of speed, mere yards from the guy, if he can just—

“Lloyd, wait!”

The man slams the needle into his arm, injecting the vivid purple right into his bloodstream. Lloyd reaches him just as the last of the liquid’s draining, launching himself from the top of one of the seats as a student screams, and kicks the syringe into an arching spiral away from his arm.

Oh, mistake. Big mistake. The guys gives a loud shriek, and the slight change in air pressure is all the warning Lloyd gets.

He whips back around to the students, eyes wide as he screams a warning. “Get down—!”

There’s a spectacular purple flash, and Lloyd goes flying, hurtling backward and smashing through an entire row of seats. This wouldn’t be so bad, except then his head cracks against something entirely too solid, and Lloyd’s vision goes out in bright, incredibly painful fireworks.

On second thought, this was a bad idea, is his last conscious thought, before the fireworks go dark.

*********

Lloyd jolts back into awareness to a throbbing pain in his head, and a feeling similar to someone trying to tear his arms off. He moans, blinking hazily as sound filters back in with consciousness, the unfortunately familiar sound of panicked screaming and destruction filling his ears.

That’s a bad sign, he thinks dizzily.

“Oh, thank FSM — he’s waking up! Lloyd, Lloyd, can you hear me?”

Brad finishes this last statement by yelling it in his face, and Lloyd flinches back, his head pounding.

“Stop that, you’re hurting him!”

He registers that as Rachel’s voice, coming from near his left side. He cracks his eyes back open, trying to get his bearings, and realizes that he’s being dragged forward. The pressure on his arms must be Rachel and Brad’s grip where they’ve got them slung over their own shoulders, they’re hauling him away from — from what?

“The crazy scientist guy lost it,” Rachel explains, her breath coming in sharp pants. “I think he’s got some big grudge against the lecturer, or something? Like, really intense drama—”

“That’s not the point!” Brad hisses. “He just turned himself into a freaky lizard monster, how are you not focusing on that?”

“Details are important!” Rachel snaps back, flinching as something explodes from behind them.

Lloyd blinks again, trying to get his dazed brain to work with him again. His first thought is, I didn’t know I was Spider-Man.

His second thought is that he needs to get with the program, now.

“Where’d’e go,” Lloyd slurs out as he yanks his arms from their hold, stumbling briefly before he finds his balance. He wavers as a searing pain slices through his head, and he grits his teeth, pressing a hand to his temple as he takes quick inventory. Other than his head, everything else seems to be in working order, he finds with relief.

Which is a really good thing, because it sounds like mutated science guy is about to try and start snacking on high school students like popcorn shrimp.

“He’s still back in the show room, but — Lloyd, you need to sit down,” Rachel says, her hands flitting toward his head anxiously.

“Yeah, you hit your head bad,” Brad echoes, his eyes wide. “I mean, the crack was epic, but you were passed out for like, ten minutes or so, which is bad.”

“M’fine,” Lloyd waves them off, blinking in an attempt to get the room to stop spinning. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Here,” he shoves his phone into Brad’s hand. “Call the guys if I’m not back in fifteen, okay?”

Brad and Rachel stare at him like he’s lost his mind, their eyes wide and faces pale. Which is rude, they could at least try and have some confidence.

“Lloyd—”

“I got this,” he says, and gives them a thumbs-up. Or he’s pretty sure he does, his vision is still doing that weird wobbling thing again. “I do this like, every day, guys. Just get somewhere safe, okay?”

Before either of them can protest, Lloyd takes off sprinting back to the show room, where the worst of the roaring is coming from. He grinds his teeth as another chorus of screams ring out, green light already flashing at his fingertips.

No luck. He’s got no luck at all.

*********

“We’re so dead.”

Rachel doesn’t even respond. She’s just standing there, rooted to the floor while their classmates run screaming past them for the doors, her fists clenched.

“His team’s totally gonna kill us,” Brad continues, trying to stifle mounting panic. “Kai’s gonna roast me alive. We’re gonna die.”

Rachel still doesn’t answer, staring after where Lloyd disappeared, her jaw working.

Brad shakes his head, flinching as another roar echoes from the back. “Let’s go.” They should probably at least honor Lloyd’s final wishes, he thinks, dizzily.

Rachel shakes her head. Brad’s stomach begins to sink.

“Rae, come on,” he implores. “We gotta go, Lloyd said—”

“No,” Rachel cuts over him, and Brad’s stomach finishes sinking right to his shoes. There’s something dangerously stubborn in her eyes. “We can’t just abandon him,” she continues. “Friends don’t leave other friends to fight crazy mutant lizard monsters on their own.”

Brad gapes at her. “Uh, yeah they do, if one friend is a super-powered ninja, and the other two are just average joes!”

Rachel whirls on him, and his sputtering dies in face of her glare. “Brad, it’s just Lloyd, all on his own! And he’s already concussed, he needs our help!”

“What help?” Brad throws his arms out, helplessly. “What are we even supposed to do?! We don’t! Have! Powers!”

A high-pitched explosion echoes from the back, as if to emphasize his point.

“Didn’t you go to a school for evil masterminds?” Rachel snaps back, and Brad flinches. “Use your brain, come up with something!”

Brad sputters at her, but she’s darting off before he can reply, fiddling with something on the wall. Brad fists his hands in his hair in frustration, trying to formulate an explanation that while he did, of course, go to a school for evil kids, he never actually got to the part where they taught him how to fight, much less defeat giant mutated lizards, and he has no idea what to do about it. If they were going to be of any help to Lloyd, they needed to make sure they weren’t giant liabilities, first off, and then they’d have to find out what the scientist had actually done to himself, and if there was a way to reverse it.

“And we’re gonna have to — holy FSM, is that an axe?”

“Yup,” Rachel says, testing the weight and swinging it briefly. “It is.”

“Where did you get an axe?!”

“From the glass box for fires and emergencies, duh.” She swings it again for emphasis, then nods in satisfaction. Brad jumps a foot back.

“Don’t you want to be a doctor?” he yelps. “What happened to ‘do no harm’?”

“That thing is trying to eat Lloyd,” she snaps. “So yeah, I’m gonna do some harm. Are you coming or not?”

Another explosion goes off from the halls inside the planetarium, and two of the kids on the basketball team run by screaming. Rachel blows her breath out, sets her jaw, hoists the axe and takes off after the high-pitched sound of Lloyd’s powers.

Brad looks at the exit, then back at the hallway of doom. He brings his foot down hard, and groans. “I — you — gah, we’re so gonna die.”

He grabs the fire extinguisher and heads after his friends.

*********

On the bright side of things, Lloyd’s managed to get all the high schoolers and their dumbstruck teacher out of the show room, and hopefully they’re now running to safety. He got the poor lecturer out too, even if it was a ridiculously close call and he’s gonna look like a rabid lizard attacked his right shoulder the next two weeks. Now the only ones duking it out in the room are Lloyd and Mr. Crazy Lizard Guy, so the chances of collateral have gone down, at least.

On the significantly less bright side, Lloyd might actually be losing this fight. He’s not sure, because the room’s pretty dark and the only real light is from some distant solar system the ceiling’s still whirling them through — which is really not helping with his headache, or spinning vision — but the fact that Lloyd, trained ninja that he is, hasn’t already obliterated this desk-job half-insane scientist is a bad sign.

As it turns out, fighting half-concussed just isn’t Lloyd’s strongest point. Which is dumb, because you’d think that by now, he’d at least be used to it.

“Infuriating child, why won’t you die—!”

Lloyd yelps, twisting aside as the mutated lizard-guy takes another swipe at him, razor-sharp claws whistling through the air where his head just was. Lloyd powers up a burst of green to retaliate, only to look back up and find that there are now three lizard monsters swimming in his vision, warping and swaying like snakes.

He shakes his head, desperately trying to re-focus, but it’s a fatal hesitation. The next swipe lands solidly against his side, and Lloyd cries out in alarm as he’s sent flying again, slamming into the auditorium seats before tumbling to the floor.

“Ow,” he coughs into the carpet, propping himself up with his arms and trying not to throw up. He’s going to feel this tomorrow — and look it too, probably. Man, the others are gonna kill him—

Scaled claws suddenly slam into the floor next to him, and Lloyd yelps, flinching back and craning his head upwards.

“Next time, know your place,” Crazy Guy hisses through jagged teeth, eyes flashing in deadly intent. Lloyd’s brain slams into panicked instinct, and he grasps at his powers, preparing to blast the entire room—

Thwack.

Lloyd stares with dinner-plate-sized eyes as Rachel appears from nowhere, swinging an axe straight into the mutated man’s raised arm with a wild shriek and a startling amount of force.

“Go to hell, you maniac—!”

Her next hit finds a shoulder, and before Lloyd can blink the guy’s scaly right arm is gashed open, his mouth open in an agonized howl as he staggers back. Rachel’s eyes are wild as she gasps heavily, brandishing the axe like a baseball player gearing up to swing. Lloyd manages to gape for a good three seconds before someone’s hands are pulling him to his feet, dragging him back.

“Move, move you moron!” Brad’s yelling, as he slings Lloyd’s arm around his shoulder and retreats. It takes Lloyd another second to realize he’s not yelling at him.

Rachel is still staring at the monster, her face pale and axe held aloft, frozen by shock. Or terror, either one’s fair game.

Lloyd snaps himself out of it, shrugging off Brad as the world swims again. He darts forward, grabs Rachel by the hand and pulls. He snags Brad as they go, hauling tail away from the still-howling scientist and throwing them behind the control podium at the back of the room, just barely sliding in behind them and out of lizard guy’s sight.

“We’re gonna die,” Brad gasps, his dark hair a frazzled mess. “It’s been real nice knowing you guys, we had a good run—”

“We are not gonna die,” Lloyd hisses, blinking black dots from his vision, That’s probably a bad sign. He shakes his head, fixing them both with a glare. “What are you guys doing?! I told you to get somewhere safe!”

“What, and let you die?” Rachel whispers back hotly, her hands still shaking around the axe she’s clutching, an odd green liquid dripping from the blade that Lloyd doesn’t wanna think about right now. “You were getting trashed out there!”

“No I wasn’t!” Lloyd defends. “I was just—”

“You think you can stop me?!” Crazy Guy’s voice roars across the room, and Lloyd pulls Brad and Rachel closer to him, ducking down lower. “Insignificant children, you’ll be the first to fall to my reign!”

“Wow, he’s really gone off the deep end,” Brad mutters, as if that, of all things, has jolted him from his ‘we’re gonna die’ mindset.

“I told you, huge grudge,” Rachel murmurs back.

Lloyd briefly wonders just how, exactly, he managed to end up with two utterly insane people as friends, then remembers who he is.

“Okay,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his throbbing head again and squeezing his eyes shut. “Plan. Need a plan. Um.”

“We got one,” Brad offers, exchanging looks with Rachel. “Uh, sort of.”

Lloyd looks between the two of them, trying to ignore how they suddenly blur into four of them.

Rachel makes a face. “Brad’s going to hack the light system and we’re going to get really, really annoying.”

Lloyd stares at them. “Absolutely not.”

Brad and Rachel glare back stubbornly, the planetarium lights dancing over their faces, their expressions set in shaky determination as the lizard guy continues to tear the room apart, searching for them. Lloyd’s hit by another vicious wave of anxiety. Brad and Rachel aren’t his team. They’re just — they’re just people, his friends, maybe, but civilians, he can’t ask them to—

“It’ll be fine,” Rachel assures him, the effect somewhat ruined by the manic way she’s clutching her axe. “I’ll be your eyes, so you’ll actually know where to shoot.”

“You can throw that axe at him, too,” Brad mutters, eyeing it warily.

Lloyd shakes his head. “No. No way, it’s too dangerous. You guys are gonna run, and I’m going to take care of him myself, because it’s my job.”

Brad and Rachel have those glares on again. “Sorry, Lloyd,” Brad says, with a burst of confidence Lloyd really wishes didn’t exist. “This isn’t Darkley’s. Friends don’t bail on each other. Also, you’re obviously gonna die if we don’t help out. No offense.”

Lloyd puffs his cheeks up with air, then slowly blows his breath out. This is an awful idea.

But he’s to the point where he’d admit that he’s concussed to Nya, and that means he needs all the help he can get.

“Okay,” he sighs, heavily. “Okay, but one rule — you are all staying far behind me.”

*********

Rachel breaks the rule in the first five seconds, but it’s only to stop Lloyd’s skull from getting banged up any further, so he’ll let it slide for the time being.

Also, he’s too busy trying to listen to her harried shouts over Crazy Guy’s enraged screaming to be mad at her now.

“Five — no, six o’clock!” she shrieks at him, tugging on his shoulder to move them out of the way. “Six o’clock, ten feet!”

Screwing his eyes shut against the dizzying lights, Lloyd hurls a streaking ball of energy where Rachel’s told him, and is rewarded with a screeching cry of pain.

“Nice!” Lloyd winces as Rachel yells directly in his ear. “Sorry, sorry — you hit him dead on!”

“Please tell me he’s down.”

“Uh, I think he might — oh, nope, he’s getting back up, but he looks a little dizz—yyyy duck, duck!”

Lloyd grabs for Rachel’s hand and pulls her down with him, sending them both sprawling across the floor as a something large whistles overhead.

“He’s tearing up the seats and throwing them at us,” Rachel pants, sounding indignant. She’s got a death grip on his hand, which might hurt if she wasn’t shaking like she’d shotgunned energy drinks.

Lloyd gets it, even if his adrenaline high of terror is more because he still can’t see straight.

He can see enough to tell that the lights of the planetarium are still going berserk above them, flashing from panel to panel and lighting up the dark room in a dizzying kaleidoscope of changing skies. It’d be super cool if it wasn’t one) really disorienting, and two) taking place while a mutated monster of doom tries to murder high schoolers.

“Guys, get up!” Brad’s scream echoes from the control podium, where he’s spinning them through Ninjago’s nearest satellites now. Lloyd feels the floor vibrating a second before the lizard monster comes barreling toward them, screeching in fury. Rachel sucks in a sharp breath of horror, and Lloyd’s stomach drops as he runs into another row of chairs. Reacting half on instinct, he grasps Rachel by the arm, pulls her close, and gasps out a ‘hold on’ — then, briefly siphoning the green power — tosses her straight up in the air, soaring inches from the ceiling.

Lloyd barely registers Brad swearing in shock as Rachel screams, but he’s too busy counting the seconds as the lizard monster charges him.

One, two—

Lloyd sidesteps, wind whistling past him as he narrowly avoids being pummeled again—

Three, four—

Lloyd sends two screeching bursts of energy into the monster’s back, a howl of pain missing with a sizzling sound as he goes flying across the room—

Five—

Lloyd skids back into place, and throws his arms out just in time to catch Rachel as she comes screaming back down.

“Sorry,” he pants, carefully setting her on her feet. She’s rattling in place like a wind-up toy now, but Lloyd can just see her giving him a shaky thumbs-up through his spinning vision.

“L-little more warning, next time,” she gasps, sounding winded. “Would be nice.”

Lloyd feels a flash of guilt bubble up, followed by a helpless burst of frustration. She shouldn’t be anywhere remotely near this kind of situation, neither her or Brad — they’re his normal friends, he’s supposed to go on dumb boring field trips with them, not blow up half a planetarium in a fight for their lives.

Rachel suddenly goes rigid, then grabs his shoulders and pulls him back. “He’s up!” she yelps. “He’s coming, he’s rushing us—”

Lloyd can see that, through the dizzying lights of the nearest solar system. “Get behind me!” he orders, just in time to get sent flying by a torn-up chair the guy’s chucked at them.

A litany of curses streams through his brain as both him and Rachel cry out, and Lloyd barely has the sense of mind to wrap himself around her before they slam back into the floor, rolling several feet before Lloyd’s head slams right against the stairs with another solid crack.

So many aspirin, he thinks faintly, as the world pulses in and out in dizzying flashes of white. Gonna need so many aspirin tonight.

“—et up, Lloyd, come on—”

That’s Rachel’s voice, a vaguely functioning part of his brain notes. She sounds upset, all scared and worried, which is…that’s bad, right? Lloyd’s not sure, there are like, five of her all up in his face right now—

A roar sounds closely behind her, and Rachel’s expressions spasms in panic. Lloyd’s vision finally solidifies just in time fore her to throw herself over him, and panic screeches everything back into awareness, but it’s too late because the lizard monster’s right on top of them—

Another solid crack rings out across the room, but this time it’s not Lloyd’s head. Crazy Guy howls in pain as he staggers back, clutching his head where the fire extinguisher struck his temple. Lloyd stares blankly as Rachel shakily lifts her head, before Brad’s suddenly in front of them, grabbing them both by the arms and struggling to haul them up.

“Get up!” he yells, dark eyes wide but glinting in determination. “Don’t just lay there, you’re the green ninja, come on!”

“Shu’up,” Lloyd slurs, but Brad’s words are enough to cut through the hazy film inside his head. He staggers to his feet, highly conscious of Brad and Rachel supporting both arms. This is beyond humiliating, what kind of—

“Children.” The guttural hiss has all three of them freezing in place, hair standing on end as lizard-like eyes pin them in place, glinting yellow in the flashing lights. “All of you, infuriating bugs to be crushed beneath my feet. Your deaths will be the first in my new reign—”

Irritating monologuing aside, Lloyd can’t help but be grateful for the way the guy pauses to detail their deaths, because it gives him a split, beautiful second of clarity to finally send a concussive blast of green hurtling dead on. There’s a high-pitched shriek as it sends him flying, hurtling across the room and smashing into the bottom edge of the planetarium screen with a blinding burst of sparks.

“Now that’s more like it!” Brad crows, watching as the lizard guy flops to the floor. “That’s what you get for messing with us, you ugly—”

The lizard guy pushes himself to his feet, briefly swaying dizzily before turning furious, burning eyes on them.

Brad swallows. “Did I say ugly? Actually—”

Lloyd’s already gearing up for another round, green sparks lighting on his fingers as Rachel brings her axe up again — when an ominous cracking sounds from above them. Lloyd glances up, the frantic flashing of the cracking planetarium screen nearly blinding him, and his eyes go wide.

“Get down!” he cries, pulling Brad and Rachel and diving beneath the control podium. And not a moment too soon, because in the next second the entire planetarium screen comes crashing down with an exploding screech, large chunks of mangled ceiling smashing down on the guy, pinning him firmly in place.

Lloyd, firmly crushed between Brad and Rachel, but otherwise spared any further head trauma by the solid control panel sheltering them, gives a shuddering exhale of relief.

“Well,” Rachel finally says, with a shaky laugh. “You probably won’t have to worry about boring field trips here anymore, Brad.”

Brad makes a pained, weary sound of exhaustion, and simply buries his face in Lloyd’s shoulder.

*********

Lloyd’s used to the after-battle adrenaline crash, for the most part. Brad and Rachel, as it turns out, are not. Five minutes after the paramedics have stopped fussing over them, leaving all three wrapped in the ugliest orange shock blankets Lloyd’s ever seen, there’s a sudden weight on both of his shoulders. Lloyd blinks, his head swiveling to where Brad and Rachel are snoring on either side of him, then sighs, staring upwards. At least they’re warm, he tells himself, even though it’s starting to get hot under the shock blanket.

Despite the screaming sirens all around him and the frantic voices of the students, Lloyd’s almost tempted to drift off himself. With the loss of adrenaline, his head’s really starting to hurt by now, and the flashing lights of the ambulance aren’t helping his headache in the slightest. He’s just deciding that dozing off with his friends is a good idea, when a familiar sigh has him yanking his eyes open.

Lloyd immediately wants to close them again. Kai and Nya are standing in front of him, arms crossed in identical expressions of disappointment, though it’s tinged mild amusement.

“Hi,” he croaks. He glances between Brad and Rachel, still snoring peacefully against his shoulders. Traitors. “Um. You got my text, then?”

Nya gives him a careful, judging look. “A month. You’re grounded for a month, at least.”

“Oh, come on,” Lloyd moans. “I was living my teenage years. Having a normal day.”

Kai snorts loudly, glancing back at the smoke still rising from the planetarium. “Totally normal teenage stuff, huh.”

Lloyd drops his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “S’not fair,” he moans. “It’s not my fault trouble’s always following me.”

Nya’s expression eases up, and she shakes her head, uncrossing her arms. “Hey, we’ll have a normal evening back at home, okay?” She eyes Brad and Rachel, her lips quirking in amusement. “You can have a sleepover with your friends, or something. I’ll braid your hair.”

While the idea of anyone going remotely near his head sounds awful right now, Lloyd can’t help but smile back.

“Sounds like a plan,” he yawns. Anything to get them out of this parking lot. At least he knows what he’s missing out on with school, now.

Really, he doesn’t get the hype.

#ninjago oc day #ninjago #the physical agony...of posting something with my oc...#i would say at least lloyd's having fun but. he's not gdbnjfg #my fic

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eddiemunsonsmum · 2 years ago

Text

Aftermath | Chapter 1 | Eddie Munson

Eddie Munson x Female OC | E.M x Karmen Jones

Story Summary: This story takes place after the canonical events of Season 4. Eddie wakes up in the Upside Down after 'dying' in Dustin's arms. He wakes up again in the hospital and is reunited with his loved ones that he hasn't seen since before Chrissy's death. This story covers Eddie's time in the hospital and overall physical recovery after the Upside Down.

Chapter 1 Summary: How did Eddie find his way out of the Upside Down? What happens when he wakes up alone, finding out he's been left behind?

This fic is part of the She Feels Like Home series. It sits between Boxing Day and Drop Out but can be read as a standalone.

Tags are for each individual chapter: ANGST, hurt/no comfort, injury, pain, gore, flashbacks, PTSD, Mentions of being eaten alive, mentions of canonical character death, ST season 4 spoilers, Demobats and other Upside Down Monsters.

Words: 2838

A/N: I'm having a lot of trouble writing this fic, knowing how long it is and how long it will be before I got to the point of posting and having any sort of positive feedback from my readers. So I've decided to do something different and release it by chapter in the hopes of smaller chapter goals being easier to finish. There will be at least 5 chapters to this story.

Dark lashes flutter as tired eyes open slowly to reveal the red sky above them. The sound of thunder crashing around him makes his body tense as he registered the dark clouds. The flashing sky made him squint as he stared at it from under furrowed brows.

Where am I?

He turned his head slowly. A tinge of pain burned somewhere in the left side of this neck and he grimaced at the feeling. Blinking rapidly as something started to come back to him. A memory clawing at the inside of his head, desperate to find his eyes and playback.

Suddenly he was staring at the sky again but this time he was screaming. Eyes and mouth wide as sharp teeth sunk into his flesh. He flailed and writhed in an attempt to remove the creatures but he was held down from every direction. He kicked his legs wildly but accomplished nothing. The clever little fuckers giving him leverage and then pulling his restraints taunt as he tried to strike at them.

He thrashed his head, chin swiping repeatedly against smooth, wet skin. The animal nibbling at his neck paying him no mind as he butted at it with his chin.

He was in agony. Hundreds of little bites being taken all over his body at once. Fangs scraping against his broken flesh. He knew he was being eaten alive and there was nothing he could do but scream.

The memory playing out behind his lids ended abruptly with another loud crack of thunder. His frightened eyes fading back into reality as he stared at the fallen bats around him. His eyes darting to the arm he had splayed out beside him. The tail of a dead bat was wrapped around his wrist. Heavy and lifeless as he snapped his arm back towards his body. Dragging the bat with it and shouting out in terror as it grew closer.

He closed his eyes for a second, realizing what had happened and trying to calm his racing heart. He lifted his trembling hand to inspect the damage on his arm. Open wounds that suddenly ached and burned as if they hadn’t been there all along.

He swallowed thickly. Trying his best to take a deep breath before rising up to the best of his ability and looking down at his front.

Pain tore through his abdomen at the sight. Rising up over his chest and concentrating on the left side of his body. His shirt was in tatters, drenched in blood. He could see red flesh that should be deep below the skin. His body was carved away in the patterns of little teeth.

Fuck.

Eddie let his head fall back against the rough gravel. Everything hurt so badly. He wasn’t sure he could move. He’d have to wait for the others to come back from the Creel House. Dustin would tell them what he had done and-

Dustin!

Eddie gasped, taking quick shaky breaths as he remembered lying in the kid’s arms. He’d told him to stay there. But the dumbass had followed him. He remembered now. He’d thought he was dying. Thought maybe he did die. But now he was awake and he didn’t know how or why.

How long has it been?

He gritted his teeth as he turned his head, looking for his trailer in the distance. He could just see it from where he was laying. The door was wide open but otherwise nothing seemed amiss.

Fuck… I-I’ve gotta’ get over there.

It takes a lot longer than he would have liked to gather the strength to move. He wanted to but his body wasn’t ready. Every time he lifted his arms, ready to attempt to roll over, his breathing would go into hyperdrive. The apprehension of the movement, the fear of the pain. He took short, shallow breaths. Stars spotted his vision as the edges grew dark. Only placing his hands back by his sides would calm him.

He pushed through on the sixth try. Willing himself to roll the second he had his forearms tucked against his battered chest. A scream ripped from his throat as he moved onto his stomach. The loose rocks grating against his wounds. He dropped his forehead against the ground. Shoulders shaking as a broken whine escaped him.

I can’t… I can’t do it.

He sobbed against the ground, his tears rolling back over his eyelids. Blood stained drool falling from his open mouth as he cried.

Who was he kidding? He wasn’t a hero. He couldn’t even save his own life.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there. Time was a foreign construct down here. He wasn’t sure if time was even moving in the Right Side Up. Was time even moving here? Or was he still stuck in 1983?

Guess I’ll never find out…

He lifted his head. The wound on his neck aching as he stared at his trailer. His tongue darted out to lick over his lips as he thought about all the memories he’d lived through in that old thing.

Wayne.

He thought, his eyes welling with tears once more. He hadn’t seen the man for days before the incident with Chrissy. In the days after her death he was eaten away by the guilt of knowing he’d left his Uncle to find her body. After everything the man had done for him, that was his reward. To find he’d raised a murderer.

He didn’t know if Wayne thought he did it or not. Didn’t know if there was a single person in the world he could count on to believe it wasn’t him. Even if they did believe him, they wouldn’t believe his batshit story about what had really happened.

Except maybe…

Eddie shut his eyes tight. Trying not to think about it.

He hadn’t seen Karmen since the day Chrissy died. He’d left her place early so he could go home before school and grab the things he’d need to run Hellfire that night. They hadn’t really spent much time apart the few weeks prior. But Eddie wasn’t sure how long the finale of his campaign would take. So he opted to tell her he would sleep at his own place Friday night.

It was a good thing he supposed. He shuddered to think how worried she would have been if he’d told her he was coming back that night and then never showed up. She might have come looking for him or he may have felt obligated to go to her. He could have inadvertently left Chrissy for her to find. He could have dragged her into this mess as well.

Oh God, he could have ruined her life as well. He really was no good for her.

Fuck.

He couldn’t let this be it for him. Couldn’t let this be his legacy. His most precious people forever thinking him a murderer. Karmen not knowing or understanding what happened with Chrissy. Wayne not knowing how or why Eddie died.

He needed to get back. Needed to make it back to the trailer. They’d find him in the trailer.

With a newfound resolve he scraped his arms against the ground underneath him. Groaning in pain as rocks and other debris grated against them and settled into the wounds on his chest as he moved his arms out from under himself laid down flat with his palms pressed into the dirt by his sides.

He took a sharp breath, forcing it out in a war cry of sorts as he pushed himself upwards. The weakened muscles in his arms trembling and the eaten away muscles of his chest screaming for relief from the agony of exertion.

He pulled his knees up under him, watching his tears wet the ground underneath him as he wobbled precariously. Now firmly in a position to move. He looked up at the trailer once more. Putting one hand in front of the other and screaming at himself.

Crawl!

Dark eyes blink open. Lashes fluttering against stained carpet as the harsh thudding of movement hit his ear. The reverb of something large vibrated against the ear he has to the ground. Something big and fast.

Something inside the trailer.

His heart dropped as he tried to stifle a panicked breath. He can’t fight. He can’t even stand. He estimated it had taken him several hours to make it this far.

All for nothing, he might add.

Dustin wasn’t in the trailer. None of them were.

They were gone.

They left me.

He was alone here. Or at least, he was before he’d passed out.

Clawing at the carpet of his bedroom floor he pulled himself up again. The pain of the motion was the same as the first time but this time he was silent. Scared for his life or at least what was left of it. He held in his screams, his face turning red as he rocked himself on the spot, waiting for the pain to fade before moving again.

He had crawled the extra few feet to his bedroom so that if by chance there were still things alive in this world, he wouldn’t be directly in front of the entryway when they caught his scent and came looking.

He looked around the room frantically. His only option was to hide, he realized as he dragged himself towards his closet. It turned out that somewhere in the scuffle he’d hurt his left leg pretty bad. Putting pressure on it was agony but trying to crawl with only one leg and a nibbled on torso was way worse.

The sound of movement had faded but his breathing had sped up. He pressed his back against the wall of his closet, trying to make himself seem as small as possible as he pulled the door closed as far as he could. Cursing himself when something blocked it from closing completely, the last inch refusing to budge as he jiggled it desperately with one arm. His ragged breathing became louder every second as he hurtled towards a panic attack.

Forgetting the door, he crossed his arms over his front. Burying his head in them and trying to calm down all while staying as still as he could. He didn’t want to know what it was. Didn’t want to stare death in the face as it lunged for him and he got to understand what it really felt like to be eaten alive.

He should have died in Dustin’s arms. That should have been the end of his story. But instead he’d woken up alone in this Godforsaken place. Doomed to die a terrifying and painful death at the jaws of some big otherworldly creature. Then there was starvation, dehydration or maybe even loneliness that would help to kill him quickly.

Perhaps a slow and painful death due to injury. His wounds were not the kind to heal themselves without intervention, he could tell that from one look at them. Even if they did, they were bound to get infected and he wouldn’t live through that alone.

They left me.

After everything, they left him there. He felt perhaps he should just be happy that Dustin got out alive. That he did what he’d set out to do and saved them all. That he was the only casualty.

But they left me.

He should have seen it coming to be quite honest. He wasn’t one of them, didn’t know them, really. He was just some guy that stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. They’d come for him not because they wanted or needed to save him. But because they needed his knowledge of what had happened.

Eddie jolted suddenly at a loud crash from the other end of the trailer. Shuffling down slightly against the floor and screwing his eyes shut as he shivered violently.

It’s back.

The sound grew closer. Louder, until suddenly the closet door was ripped aside. Eddie’s mouth opened in a silent scream.

But then, nothing.

He blinked in confusion, lifting his head slightly to peak at the dark shape in the doorway, illuminated from behind by a bright light.

Harrington?

“He’s alive!”

Dustin and Nancy stood together in silence. Heads raised as they both stared above them with bated breath. Waiting to watch as Steve and Robin carried Eddie’s lifeless body back inside his trailer and they could begin to work out how to get him back through the gate before it closed.

As soon as they had realized that the gates had not fully closed yet, Dustin had been insistent that they return for him. Refusing point blank to accept any answer other than yes and even going so far as to threaten to go back on his own. That was the only reason they were standing there right now.

They knew he would do it.

The gates were slowly growing smaller. Eddie was dead. Retrieving his body wasn’t worth the risk of being trapped in the Upside Down forever. Regardless of how much they had liked him.

The door to the alternate version of the trailer flew open. Hitting against the wall and making a terrible, loud sound. Both Dustin and Nancy jumped even though they had been expecting it.

They watched as Steve pushed his way inside, empty handed.

“He’s not there!” He shouted up at them as Robin appeared next to him. Both of them staring up at the gate and looking to their friends for what to do next.

“What do you mean he’s not there?” Dustin asked angrily. They hadn’t moved him before they left.

“He’s not fucking there man!” Steve replied with a shrug. “I don’t know what else to say!” He called back, frowning as he shook his head.

“But that’s where we left him!” Dustin said dumbly, making Steve scoff.

“I know that, I saw it! Remember?” He asked, frustrated. He had been the one that had to prise Dustin away from Eddie. Physically carrying him kicking and screaming back to the Right Side Up.

“Something… Something must have taken him.” Dustin whispered, lip trembling as he imagined Eddie’s body being swallowed up by a hungry monster.

“His whole body?” Nancy asked skeptically. “I think we would know if there was something big enough to do that left in there.” She said with a shake of her head. Her own mind unconsciously conjuring up a similar vision to Dustin’s.

“So what then?” Steve asked. “You think he just got up and walked away?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Dustin shouted back, voice breaking.

“Guys!” Robin interjected, holding up her hands to stop the arguing. “I don’t mean to be a downer, but this hole is getting smaller.” She said hastily, pointing towards the gate. “Who knows when it’ll close completely. What if it gets halfway and just snaps shut like the gate in that movie with the hunky archaeologist?”

She looked at Steve, brows furrowed and mouth a thin line as they made a silent decision.

“Robin’s right. We need to get out of here.” Steve agreed solemnly.

“Not without Eddie!” Dustin countered as Nancy stepped forward to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“We can’t fucking find Eddie, man!” Steve shouted, grabbing at the rope they’d thrown through the gate to replace the sheet Eddie had cut off.

“Exactly!” Dustin cried, voice thick with emotion. “Maybe… Maybe he did walk away. What if he’s alive? You’re just gonna’ trap him in there?”

“Look!” Nancy interjected suddenly. Pointing upwards towards Steve’s feet in the Upside Down. The man turned around himself wildly, patting at his clothes.

“What?” He asked quickly when he realized she wasn’t pointing directly at him and there was no little creepy creature on his shoulder.

“What is that? By your feet? Is that blood?” She asked shakily. Continuing to point as Steve and Robin both turned to look at the floor

“I don’t… Oh shit look!” Steve gasped, his own hand pointing at the blood Nancy had spotted. Following it with his finger in a trail down the hallway. He looked up at Robin and they stared at one another for a startled second before he ripped away his gaze. “Eddie?” He asked as he began to move. Robin on his heels as they both started to shout. “Eddie?”

“Eddie!” Robin called, as they swung around the corner into the bedroom. Both falling silent, disappointment poignant as they registered the empty room.

“It just ends.” Steve whispered, staring at the spot on the carpet when the trail seemed to stop dead.

“No it doesn’t, look!” Robin pointed excitedly! The mark of a bloody palm left on the cupboard next to the stained carpet. The door pulled closed all but an inch.

“Eddie?” Steve asked again, rushing forward and yanking the door open. His eyes widening at the sight of his friend squashed against the back wall of the closest. Sharp eyes slowly coming up to meet his. “Oh shit!” He called out excitedly. “He’s alive!”

Read Part 2 Here! Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged in the rest of this story as I post it.

Read the rest of the series here :)

This series is so personal to me, so it means the world to me when someone let’s me know they enjoy a work from this series. If you guys liked this please pleaseee consider letting me know via comment, reblog, message, anon ask etc.

Tag List: @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @3ddi3-daydreamer @micheledawn1975 @munson-blurbs @wheels-of-despair

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spotsupstuff · 2 years ago

Note

How did zephyr end up in the state she's in? Is there a post already discussing it?

I love her design btw.

it's talked about a lil in the big oc post in Boreas' doodle intro page!

i had plans to then make a big post dedicated exclusively to the lore which was meant to obtain more details on Zephyr's updated lore, Mission Self-preservation as a concept, explore her a little more as a person by showing her interactions with the other Anemoi + Seaf and then how Sliver of Straw's triple affirmitive ultimately doomed the Eo group to failure

Zephyr's construction was, originally, a sort of rebellion against the Wellspring by the residents of the Secondary Homeland. p sure i already talked about the history of these two continents somewhere, but tldr: the Wellspring is where the global religion, iterators and such all originates from. the Wellspring colonized Secondary Homeland very early on and converted Most of important culture into their own (think what Christianity has done to the pagan believes in Europe)

the Wellspring was keeping the iterator plans for themselves, perfecting them but most importantly excluding other places for the sake of their superiority over everyone else. *some* Iterator plans though made it to the dark "underground" side of the Roam Network and then also the actual physical black market cuz ofc there's smth like that

the high standing Ancients of the Secondary Homeland wanted to make a statement about their independance from the Wellspring and so they took these plans and acted on them (got scammed). they didn't really have any proper Iterator engineers that could've caught the faults in the plans through all the years of construction and so they finished her

the moment they turned her on, ready to have a ceremony celebrating her birth in her chamber, everything went wrong

something within the structure spluttered, something exploded, a lot of things collapsed on themselves- the first thing that came from Zephyr's speakers, the very *same* moment she opened her eyes, was a bloodcurdling scream of sheer agony

the scream, then all the visible pain she kept going through afterwards (falling to the floor, breaking her spine, spasming, dry heaving because of those damn instincts coming from the puppet's organic brain demanding her nonexistent stomach is emptied-) And the structural instability terrified and scared everyone off to never come back, never make a note of her existence and try to cover up everything surrounding her (this primal fear is replacing the "why not?" reason for keeping her running)

because it was a stupid ass mistake. trusting unofficial plans for something so giant and grand? be deceived for literal decades by a small team of scammers? it's so pitiful. the biggest fuck up of the whole continent, there just won't be worse

and thanks to that colossal shame, Zephyr gets to quietly plan her revenge out for ages

and thank you! glad to hear that! she Is one of my very first og iterator designs so it's nice that she still holds up well

#Spot says stuff #rw #oc tag #oc: abet zephyr #for the question 'how does she manage to stay alive despite all that??' lookit moon in canon shes workin with Way less n we Do Not Ask

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locke-barmecide · 4 years ago

Text

I posted 3,612 times in 2021

1350 posts created (37%)

2262 posts reblogged (63%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.7 posts.

I added 3,184 tags in 2021

#korekiyo shinguji - 604 posts

#danganronpa - 535 posts

#danganronpa korekiyo - 454 posts

#danganronpa v3 - 453 posts

#korekiyo - 435 posts

#korekiyo shinguuji kin - 423 posts

#shinsai - 91 posts

#locke oc lore - 67 posts

#locke rambles - 64 posts

#lmao - 58 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#preferably something that doesn’t require a super high amount of effort since i’m always in physical pain so i don’t rlly wanna move around

My Top Posts in 2021

Korekiyo being absolutely unbelievablely in love with Shuichi. I stared at Kiyo making sure I didn’t miss a single detail. I really hope I got everything. Drawing his hat caused me a great deal of agony. Kiyo is literally the most ethereal thing I’ve ever drawn.

169 notes • Posted 2021-01-26 03:20:05 GMT

See the full post

190 notes • Posted 2021-07-31 13:43:20 GMT

Humanity is... disgusting

Despair disease Kiyo. He hates humanity. Every part of it. Humanity hurt him and humanity hurts others. Even the beautiful parts of humanity are ugly. I don’t know how to feel about how I coloured this. I can’t tell if it looks muddy or nice. Reblogs are very appreciated

230 notes • Posted 2021-02-01 21:17:49 GMT

Is Kiyo a ginger?

233 notes • Posted 2021-08-13 22:24:19 GMT

Sailor moon redraw but make it Kiyo and Rantaro. I kept the background because I’m lazy and I tried my best to mimic the style which was really out of my comfort zone but I think I did decent.

Reblogs are super appreciated.

321 notes • Posted 2021-01-20 03:04:09 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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fenristheorem · 4 years ago

Note

Lance finding out that Gardienne killed herself? After a while of her being in the HQ again, he has fallen in love with her. She just couldn't bear those seven years, having lost that many people and being here just to save this world by suffering.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, he knocked her door, he worried bc no one answered, and he finds her hanged up.

I know this is really specific, it's just kind of my OC ending😅😅 anyway, I'd understand if you weren't comfortable with this.

So I’m going to talk about the boundaries of what I write for a moment, starting by saying that I will write this BUT I won’t write detailed suicide scenes due to the sensitive nature of it.

This ask isn’t asking for a detailed scene, it’s asking for the effects the decision has on Lance, and because it’s asking for the long-term effects and not a scenario I’m just fine with writing this.

Thank you for asking this, Anon, genuinely. Being this specific was probably what gave me the push to write this in the end because I know you were looking for the reaction and not the actual scene. This is a good example of a post that walks along the lines of what I will and won’t write so anyone requesting future asks with a similar subject gets a better idea of what to ask.

Also, I apologize for how long this took to write. This ask was, unfortunately, the one that spent the most time eaten in my drafts folder so I couldn’t work on it until about a week ago. Fortunately that gave me a lot of time to think over how to best write this, so I think this’ll be appropriately written considering the subject.

*Warning / Note: This post contains heavy depressive themes and suicidal mentions, as evident by the ask and what I wrote above. I’m aware that this is a very sensitive subject and I intend to treat it with appropriate seriousness. This is not a happy post, please only read this if you know this won’t lead you down a dark path. To me, writing is another form of art, meant to express and draw out emotions from the audience, so I won’t subside the intensity of my writing even with this being a sensitive subject. I don’t intend to drive anyone to harm themselves, but I do intend to write with the intensity that I always do because this is my artform; so please prepare for heavy themes or don’t read if you’re not comfortable with this. On a side note: I care about everyone, I really do, so please take care of yourselves. If you’re feeling depressive or suicidal, talk to someone, please. There is always someone who cares about you.

Technically Guardienne's death may have a major adverse effect on Eldarya due to her link with the crystal, but for the sake of this ask I'll ignore any possible effects like that.

~Under the cut~

Lance’s reaction to Guardienne’s suicide:

Lance had seen a lot of terrible things in life and had done many terrible things in his life, but this reached a new type of fucked up for him. Not because it's truly disturbing - although it is deeply disturbing - but because it fucked him up even more in a way that he neither thought could be possible nor that he could bear.

He’s convinced that he’s cursed; everything that’s happened to him has been his fault. He started the war within Eldarya, destroyed so many faeries’ lives, killed his own brother, and now the woman he loved is dead because of him as well. Sure, he wasn’t the one to tie the rope around her neck, but there are signs for these sorts of things. Was he truly that blind that he couldn’t see that she was in pain? Did he ever truly love her if he couldn’t see the pain? Would she have done anything differently if he wasn’t there to constantly remind her of everything that was lost?

Lance believes he deserves this. He’s caused so much pain and agony for everyone, it only makes sense that he should be the one in pain now. Lance won’t try to fight the agony he’s in, he’ll let himself drown in it for nights on end to wake up - or not even sleep to begin with - feeling exhausted, reckless, irritated and - overall - worthless. He’s sure to emerge from his room in the morning without the slightest hint that he’s been sobbing quietly with the feeling of a dagger twisting itself over and over within his chest all night, and he’ll refuse to answer any questions about if he’s alright after the recent events. He was the one to find her after all; it would make sense that he was hit the hardest...

In the daytime he’ll be rough and withholding, keeping the Obsidian guard in a tight hold to reflect how he needs to hold himself tightly to keep from falling apart. It’s one thing for him feel and express emotions, but this feeling is an entirely different thing; this is something that should not be released into Eldarya. He realizes it and knows that this feeling - something that he recognizes all too well from his past - threatens to destroy everything that he worked so hard to gain in the past seven years.

Mathieu will notice Lance’s change in temperament immediately, and being the kind man he is he’ll want to be there for the dragon, but Lance won’t be looking for comfort; he’ll be looking for something that will change the past and take back everything that happened. But that’s impossible - he knows that - and so he’ll be stuck in a state of limbo, deemed to mourn for his unknown, unrealized love until... something happens to change him.

Ice cold fear will wash over him some days as he recognizes the familiar feeling that haunted him in the past, and while he’ll be aching to reach out to lean on someone for support - afraid of this feeling overwhelming him again - he’ll feel that he can’t lean on anyone. He doesn’t deserve that support at this point after all he’s done, and there’s so many others who are busy grieving; the guard needs him to be strong now. However, on occasion - when he has a clear mind - he’ll grieve gently with someone who’s somewhat close to him, sharing kind memories of Guardienne and gently advising them to spend time around friends if his co-worker feels it’s needed. He’ll never completely break in front of anyone though, he can’t bring himself to.

However, Lance falls apart immediately when he’s alone, sometimes even lingering in the conference room for a few minutes after a meeting to allow himself the private time alone to recollect himself. Grief will randomly hit him throughout the day, constricting his throat, burning his chest, and glassing over his eyes - and every time he’ll excuse himself from his company to isolate himself until he regains control again. This, of course, is taken into notice by a few others around the guard, and slowly there’ll be people who realize that Lance is not fine.

This becomes a further issue over time as his grief slowly turns into anger and disgust, and this is when that familiar, ominous feeling from his past really rears it’s ugly face. He should have seen something. Was he really that terrible to her that she felt she couldn’t trust him? Was everyone really that blind to not see her hurting?

Lance finds that he begins to choose to isolate himself, mentally and physically. He’ll leave the guards members alone that have stated they need time off, but he won’t be very forgiving with those who have chosen to continue their work but seem to be slacking. His mentality is that if you can’t handle continuing on, then don’t offer your service as it’ll become a hindrance, and this quickly becomes a major issue.

Huang Hua - knowing how important Guardienne was to Eldarya, and the guard especially - has let it be known that if anyone needs a break from their responsibilities, then it’ll be allowed, but she will stress that those who feel they can continue to function please try to do so, and be lenient and take on a few responsibilities that aren’t usually asked of them if they feel they can. She can read other’s auras and sense intentions and emotions of sorts, so she can generally get a good read on how someone is doing, but she can’t consistently do that with everyone, so while she’ll use this ability when necessary to enforce that someone take a break so they don’t fall apart, not every unstable case is known to her. This is the main reason why she slightly overlooks Lance for a while. When he first found Guardienne, he panicked immediately, rushing her to Ewelein and not even truly believing her death until many days after the event. Huang Hua - having sensed his shock and panic blocking out any other emotions - let it go for a few days; everyone goes through their own grieving process, some immediately and some not until many years afterwards. There was nothing that anyone could do for him until Guardienne’s death hit him fully. However, she also knew from her abilities that Lance was in love with her, or at very least had a deep liking for Guardienne, so the instant a few members of the guard come to her expressing serious concerns regarding Lance’s recent aggression and distance, Huang Hua knows immediately that it needs to be dealt with. This grief was an unknown factor in Lance’s new life - but his past with this type of grief shows clearly that this can really fuck him up - so it needed to be discussed, otherwise he risks spiraling back into the same place he was seven years ago.

She’ll approach him when he’s alone, or if they’re in a relatively public space she’ll take him somewhere private, sensing all the while the breathtakingly painful feeling of agony, anger and distress that’s clouding his mentality. It was just the same as when he was Ashkore, how did he not yet break? He’ll refuse to follow her if he knows she wants to talk about his emotions - ironic since he’s always been open to sharing his perspective and thoughts - so she’ll just tell him that she needs to talk to him in private regarding a few anonymous tips from some guards members if he happens to ask why.

Being alone with an unstable, emotionally distraught dragon with a history of violence while under heavy states of grief does unsettle her a bit, but she knows the outcome of this will be much worse if he truly feels isolated. He’s not going to reach out for help by himself - he doesn’t know how to, nor does he probably want to - so she needs to be the one to reach out to him and help him stabilize himself before another situation like Valkyon’s death occurrs.

She’ll consider first talking alone with him in his room - where he’d likely feel most comfortable - but considering he’d likely be defensive, that could then translate into aggression in his own territory, and that may lead her to being forced out of his room for her own safety. Lance has certainly changed in temperament, but heavy grieving emotions can blind someone, so there’s really no promising that nothing... destructive may happen, no matter how much he’s changed in patience.

She then considers talking with him in the conference room, but there isn’t a whole lot of privacy there. The conference room is more for business, rather than personal, private, emotional conversations. The last thing Lance needed in this moment was for his emotions to be treated even slightly like a business confrontation and not as an important part of his being. Frankly, even on a day where he’s feeling just fine he would never accept anyone’s emotions to be treated like a business issue, so the last thing she wanted was to imply that by bringing him into a room that could do just that.

Huang Hua then thinks over the idea of talking to him in her room; it would likely be safer, after all. He probably won’t become territorial or aggressive as it’s not his territory, and it’ll be a gentle reminder that she’s happy to welcome him into her personal life to help comfort him (therefore defeating the concern that it could seem like a business confrontation), but since it’s her territory he might emotionally shut himself down. It can be uncomfortable to fall apart in someone else’s room, especially knowing they’re higher ranking and could be interrupted at any moment to deal with something else...

Then she wonders if she should bring him outside of the guard to speak with him - somewhere that’s private and on neutral ground. That way they’d both be in strange territory and may not be interrupted, and if they are they’d receive prior warning by noticing that someone was walking their way.

Of course, Huang Hua then realizes that - no matter how much she’d like to think that she understands what would make Lance most comfortable - she truly doesn’t know what would help him best, but she can be there to provide support at very least, regardless of where they are. At the end of the day, Lance would probably know where he’d feel most comfortable, so when she approaches him to talk, saying that it’s an important but private conversation, she’ll ask him where he would rather talk. He’ll be slightly hostile, especially when he picks up on the fact that she’s going out of her way to word things carefully and prioritize his comfort, but he’ll decide to talk somewhere private outside the guard, where no one is around.

And that’s how Huang Hua finds herself in the middle of the open plains, far away from the guard to talk to a dragon who might as well be stabbing himself with his own dagger with how he’s been allowing himself to feel as of late. She’ll start off gently, telling him the recent concerns of a few anonymous guard’s members and Lance will stand a few feet away and listen coldly with a blank expression until she suggests that he take a few days off. He’ll debate things with her then, and it’ll escalate slowly until Lance is clearly distressed but still unmoving in his decision to remain active, and Huang Hua will know then that she can’t be gentle anymore...

“Lance, take a few days off, for your sake.”

“No.” His tone is harsh and cold as he snaps at her. “The guard needs me, there’s so much I need to do - so much I need to repay-” He didn’t mean to let that last statement slip - after all, his actions certainly couldn’t be made up for, right? - but emotions can be a powerful thing, can’t they?

“You won’t be able to do any of that if you’re destroying everything you’ve helped rebuild in the process.” Lance is pacing, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. Huang Hua - despite her anxiousness at the dragon being so stubborn on decisions made under heavy negative emotions - tries to keep a comforting, open atmosphere to avoid furthering any issues. “You know the pain you’ve cast upon on others, you’ve felt that same sort of pain now and you need to take time to be able to recover from that.”

“I can’t take time, it’s not something I can just accept! Everyone I’ve hurt before never had time to accept the situation before I made it worse, but they still pushed forward! There’s no reason for me to have it any easier!”

“And where would we be if we treated you the same way you used to treat the world? Would we be any better than how you used to be?”

Lance stops pacing but his eyes remain on the ground, his throat constricting as his thoughts run rampant. Would they be the same as how he used to be if they allowed him to keep running himself this way? He’s done terrible things, but he’s spent many years trying to keep that from happening again. Certainly he’s an asset to the guard now, so would it be cruel of them to ignore his distress? Or would it be justified payback for everything he’s done?

“Lance, you’ve done wonderful things the past seven years, and we want you to continue that and I know you want to continue that as well. Take some time off so you can do that without destroying yourself or your environment. Don’t ignore your pain like it’s nothing - it’s not nothing, and you have the resources to deal with it in a better way now. Use those resources, Lance, it’ll help you work your way through this.” Huang Hua’s tone is gentle and soft as she pleads with him, hoping that her blunt words will reach his common sense.

He tries to argue this, stuttering the beginning of sentences to try and disprove her point, grasping for any reason as to why his pain is invalid. However, Lance finds that there’s no sound argument against Huang Hua’s words, and constricting panic, horror, and then heavy tides of grief will hit him as he realizes that he is, in fact, dragging himself into his own downfall. He is his own worst enemy, once again.

In any manner, this is all his fault - his past actions, Guardienne’s distress of what’s changed that lead to her death, his emotional isolation, and disruption of the guard is all because he doesn’t know how to deal with himself and his abyss of emotions. How did this happen to him? He was never the type of person to deny and hide away his emotions, so how is it he ended up caging himself like this when under personal grief? Is it because the situation is so personal to him that he has a hard time allowing himself to seek comfort in others who likely couldn’t understand?

Lance will fall apart at this, closing his eyes and turning towards the ground to keep himself together, but falling apart all the same as grief overwhelms him one final time in a push that throws him over the edge. He’ll clench his fist and bow his head, bringing it over his mouth as he desperately tries to steady his breathing, to no avail as tears find their way from his eyes and his chest heaves in quieted sobs.

Huang Hua will lurch forward to comfort him, but stops as Lance whirls around to step back and snap at her - he didn’t want comfort, he wanted her back!

“Where were you for her!? Why didn’t anyone else see her pain!?” His eyes are tragedy and desperation underneath the weakened cold anger of ice blue, a faint few tears streaking down his face as his voice - thunderous and howling - cracks and breaks alongside his crumbling rage. If he couldn’t have fixed this, then someone else could have - why didn’t anyone fix this!?

“You know it’s not morally correct to monitor everyone’s private emotions all the time. What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t allow my people their privacy?” Huang Hua stills and clasps her hands together at her waist, understanding Lance’s outward anger. However, she realized his statement signaled something else as well; Lance could no longer fight why he should allow himself to grieve, so he was desperately clinging onto some semblance of needing to be distant by turning it to be someone’s fault - someone that he could hate. “You are right in a way; of the many people who knew her, someone might have been able to catch how torn up she felt, but people who wish to hide their pain, or spend so long hiding their pain that it becomes a part of who they are, learn how to hide their pain in ways too complex for others to realize. And, Lance, if she didn’t want anyone to know about her grief, there wouldn’t have been much that I could have done anyways.”

“You could have helped her!” The dragon’s voice was weakening as he spoke, distant anger being replaced by a cold, hollow emptiness as he realized the truth in Huang Hua’s words.

“Only if she was ready for that help. You can’t force someone to accept help, you can only wait for them to allow themselves to be helped.”

“She wouldn’t want me to find relief during this time...” He looked away toward the ground and hung his head, blinking rapidly as he began to heave for breath. There must be a reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to feel this way .

“Do you think she would have wanted everything good you did - whether she knows what you did or not - to be destroyed because of your grief for her?” Lance’s eyes squinted closed and he tilted his head a bit further away from the phoenix. It seemed as though every reminder of everything good he’s done continues to leave him with a hollow chest. “I think if she witnessed firsthand everything you’ve done the past seven years she would have thought very differently about you now than what she did when first having woken up from the crystal.”

Lance turns to face his back towards her, resting a palm on his forehead before brushing his fingers back through his hair as a tremble rolls through him. He could feel pressure rising from his throat as he bared his teeth in an agonized snarl before parting his mouth to silently gasp for air. His head tilted back to look at the sky, only for a few tears to fall from his eyes when he releases a shaky breath.

“Lance, your situation with her was very unique - no one else could begin to understand exactly what you’re feeling from your history with her. Take some time so you can understand it - and fix, or do, or feel whatever you need to - so you can carry forward knowing yourself better.”

He wanted to fight her statement, but his moral compass argued with his resistance on this as well. If anything, of whatever terrible things came as a result of her death, there should be some good sought from it as well. What’s the point of accepting a tragedy if not to learn something from it as well, even if it’s something quiet that no one else knows you learned?

For the first time in a long while - if not ever - Lance allows himself to break and be comforted. He lets himself embrace the burning, stinging pain that rises in his chest as he turns his head back to the ground and collapses on his knees. Huang Hua immediately reacts and is by his side in moments, on her knees and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as she leans against him slightly. Sobs escape his throat as his body tenses and curls forward slightly, bracing a hand on the ground to steady himself as tremulous waves of emotions - any and all emotions that could possibly be named - wash over him and leave him gasping for air.

“I miss her, too.” Huang Hua’s voice shakes now as she leans further against the dragon, bringing her arms as far around him as she can while her head rests against his shoulder, away from the spines on his pauldrons. Lance brings his other hand up and tightly grasps the forearm reaching across his chest.

Huang Hua had spent so much time trying to help others through this that she had completely forgotten to make sure she was alright as well, and seeing Lance - the man she least expected to be torn apart by this situation - completely break and fall apart before her eyes reminded her of the true depth of their loss. They didn’t just lose Eldarya’s savior, they had lost a friend, a great warrior, one of the last angels, someone who was pure at heart and wasn’t afraid to face the darkness of life without so much as a blink of hesitation. They had lost someone who gave everything for the world, and suffered because of it.

Minutes merged until they were unsure of how long they spent in the fields, but in time both of them calmed down. Lance - now able to think clearer on the subject - began to reflect on the situation.

“This wasn’t her fault... the blame is on all of us, for not having seen anything... but she must have known that someone would have been there for her if they knew how much she was hurting...” He murmured this quietly, waves of shame washing over him again as he realized he was perhaps pinning some of the blame on Guardienne. Was there really anyone to blame here? She must have known that someone would have been there for her if she sought help, but it’s not right for others to pry into the personal life of another if the intrusion is unwelcomed, and who was to say she wanted help in the first place? Had she given up? Would anyone have been able to stop her to begin with? Who was to blame, if there was anyone?

“There’s nothing we can do now except honor her and move forward.” Huang Hua whispered back with a shaky voice and Lance faintly nodded his head. There were many things that worked together to lead to this happening, and in between there also were moments where something could have helped deter it, both by her doing and by others. At the root core, everyone and anyone could have helped stop this in some way, even if it was by giving her a small passing smile that could have helped remind her that there is good and hope in the world, but there’s also no guarantee that anyone could have stopped it. Regardless, this is how things happened. They can’t change the past, but they can move forward with her in mind and learn from this.

Lance - despite his heavy grief and complex emotions on everything - begins to soften himself to the situation. He’s not the only one grieving. His situation may have been the most complicated, but he’s still in the same boat as everyone else. He doesn’t feel the need to sob alongside the others anymore, but he does find that whenever the group he’s in begins to fall apart into wailing, he’ll bow his head and won’t hide the obvious pain that he’s in at the reminder of his lost love. His feelings for Guardienne will be kept quiet, and he won’t openly say how he felt about her - it could still be seen as wrong in the opinion of some people for him to have fallen in love with the same woman he hurt so much, especially knowing her pain is what led to her death - but he won’t deny the truth of his feelings to those who caught on somehow. Lance will find that he’ll slowly begin to mend after this death, many months after of course, but it’ll happen, and in some ways this will help him move past his brother’s death as well. After all, in the end both Guardienne and Valkyon came to accept their final moments in life before allowing Lance’s past actions to bring about their end, and although one chose to die to help mend him and the other chose to die to help relieve herself, the root issue of the situation that led to their death was still very similar. He’ll have a hard time allowing himself to move past the fact that his actions played a major part in both deaths, but he realizes in time that that’s what happens when someone has a violent past. It’ll haunt for many years, and the effects of it can never be reversed, but in the end this only inspires him to work harder to provide a better world. Maybe he can’t erase what he did, but he can make sure it doesn’t happen again and work to provide Eldarya with as much good as he can provide now.

Without a doubt Guardienne’s death hits him hard, but he’ll be sure to come back twice as strong from this.

I hope you like this, Anon! I feel Guardienne’s suicide would definitely hit Lance hard and remind him subtly of Valkyon’s death, but I don’t see Lance being held down by this for too long. He’d heavily grieve for her for a good while before he eventually finds himself standing on two feet again and powering his way through life, if not for his own sake then for the sake of others, both alive and dead.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#Eldarya ANE #eldarya lance #fenristheorem writing #askfenris

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diabolik-writer · 5 years ago

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Umbridges Punishments (George Weasley x Ftm!Reader)

Harry Potter

Slytherin reader!

(It's only hinted at though)

Warnings : Umbridge misgenders you and slight panic attack

A/n: I originally wrote this for an Oc story I am currently writting. I figured it'd be cute as a one shot too. I changed quite a few things, such as the ending and the name to Y/n obviously. I don't know if I'll post the Oc story on here when I get enough of it done, but we'll see. If you like this and wish to read the original writing/story line for this, let me know.

Extra info: Y/n = your name, N/n = nickname, L/n = last name

Pain spread throughout my hand as the quill slid across the paper. I paused, waiting for it to fade, but it didn't. The pain continued to pulse as I wrote; Umbridge hovering behind me, watching as my hand turned red.

This was the fifth time I have been dragged into her office. It seemed like the smallest things got me in trouble. This time, I was just standing close to the Weasley twins when they pulled a prank on a Slytherin. Umbridge grabbed my arm quickly, ignoring the twins, yanking me into her office, where she had me sit down and she forced me to write with her quill. "You know what to write. This time you will write ten sentences." she announced, her hands joined behind her back as she smiled down at me. I whimpered, imagining what I was about to go through. My arm still hurt from the six she made me write last time.

'I am a troubled and useless mudblood' carved into my right hand as I wrote, making me squeeze my eyes in agony. The words continued to appear, causing a hiss of pain to escape my lips. I got to eight before I physically couldn't take it anymore. My hand was shaking and tears fogged my eyesight. I lowered my head, trying to cover my face with what hair I had. Umbridge scoffed and shook her head. "Two more, dear. Wouldn't want that number to double, would we?" I shook my head quickly, making the quill move again and making more words litter my hands.

When I had finished the last two, Umbridge grabbed the paper and quill from me. "Do you get the message, dear?" she asked, amusement laced in her voice. I knew that if I tried to speak, it would've come out weak and broken, so I just nodded. Umbridge seemed satisfied with my answer as she smiled and replied, "Good. You may now go, Ms.L/N."

My heart sank and my stomach flipped. Out of my seven years at Hogwarts, no one has called me "Ms''. They had always called me "Mr'' out of respect for my identity. I had always been accepted for who I was and I was never misgendered at Hogwarts by a professor. I didn't argue or correct her, though. I just stalked out of the room, wanting to get to my dorm room as fast as I could.

I kept my eyes on my shoes, watching for feet around me and avoiding as many people as possible. I could feel tears in the back of my eyes, making my face feel hot. I didn't want to be seen on the verge of sobbing, face red and puffy. I wanted to get to my room so I could cry in peace.

But my luck soon ran out; as I turned around the corner of the dungeon, I bumped into two tall boys, who were walking together. "Woah! Watch where you're-" There was a pause as I looked up. The two gingers that I knew too well, stood there, eyes wide. "Y/n?" They asked at the same time. I ducked my head down, hoping they had missed the red, puffiness of my face. They, of course, were observant and hadn't missed it.

"N/n? What's wrong, love?" Fred asked, worry filled his features. Pain pulsed through my hand again. I clutched my wrist and held my right arm to my chest. It helped ease the pain a small bit. George glanced down at my arm and gently reached out for it. He took it on his own. The long sleeve of my robe, covering my hand. He rubbed it softly, eyes flickering up to mine, keeping eye contact. His chocolate brown eyes were welcoming and made me feel safe. Same with Fred's. Both waited patiently as I slowly rolled up my sleeve.

They both glanced down at the same time and gasped. They scanned my hand, taking in the, now, scars. They burned as George's grip tightened, causing me to flinch. George loosened his hold on me and quietly apologized. Fred's eyes flew up to mine. They were alite with rage. "Who did this to you, Y/n?" He demanded, raising his voice.

The slight raise in his voice sent me into a panic. My breathing began to quicken and the tears I had been holding back began to pour. My body began to tremble like it had when I was writing. Fred's face dropped and he quickly embraced me, apologizing repeatedly.

George and Fred then shared a look, beginning to lead me out of the dungeon. I buried my head into Georges shoulder, as him and Fred's arms wrapped around my shoulders. I only moved my head to see where we were as I heard "Password?" from a woman's voice.

We were at a painting. George whispered the password to her and it opened. I looked up at Fred in confusion. He glanced down, his eyes shone with worry, love, and sadness. He bent down and whispered in my ear, "Gryffindor common room." I backed my face away quickly, making my crying-dazed brain, dizzy. "I can't go in there! It's against the rules. I can't break any more rules." I rambled in a panic. Fred kissed my forehead, we had entered now. The Gryffidors in the room all stared at us. Fred whispered in reassurance, "It'll be alright. They all like you and if they have a problem..." Fred and George shared a look, one that challenged anyone to say something.

They brought me over to the couch, George sitting next to me. Ron and Hermione rushed up to us. "Are you bloody mental? If Umbridge finds out he's in here, we're all doomed." Ron looked like he saw a ghost. Hermione punched his arm and looked over at me. "Quiet, Ron. They wouldn't bring him in if there wasn't a problem. Is he alright?" she asked Fred and George, as I sat looking at my feet. Most of the Gryffindors in the room were watching now with a silent interest.

The twins ignored Ron and George explained what was on my hand to Hermione. George gently took my right hand in his, while Fred talked, and traced the words with his fingers. Harry, who had joined us, sighed. "Umbridge got ahold of you." It wasn't a question. He knew the punishment that was given to me. George looked up from my wrist in his hand, in confusion as Harry pulled his sleeve down. I glanced up in time to see writing scarred on his hand. Some were more faded than others, signalling that he had been subject to multiple punishments too. "She practically takes me in for sneezing. She has this quill that carves what you write into your skin." Harry explained.

George and Fred shared a glare, full of hatred. They were coming up with something to do in revenge. It was obvious. Ron was more focused on the scars on Harry's arm. "Bloody hell, Harry. Doesn't that hurt?" Ron asked, eyes wide. Harry motioned his hand to me, whose face was still rosey and wet from the tears. "Obviously, Ron."

George began to move, letting go of my hand, all eyes fell on him. He laid down on the couch, causing me to move further to the edge to give him space. He started patting his chest, making eye contact, suggesting that I lay down too. I was too tired to think a lot, so I just moved and laid down in between his legs with my head on his chest. George ran his fingers through my hair and I sighed happily. Closing my eyes, the tension in my body slowly disappeared. Around me, I heard Ron, Hermione, and Harry leave, going back to whatever they had been doing previously, Fred likely joining them.

George watched as I relaxed, finally safe from Umbridge's punishments in his arms. My breathing calmed and the feelings in my hand faded as George mumbled a spell to relieve the pulsing pain. I took a deep breath, sinking further into the couch and George. My mind slowed and I started falling into a deep sleep. George's hand continued to run through and play with my hair until he fell asleep as well.

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley x ftm reader #x ftm reader #ftm reader

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deepperplexity · 5 years ago

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Title: A Bludger To The Heart [pt.3]

A/N: Part 3 of A Bludger To The Heart as requested by @witch-of-reblogs & @prinlee

[Part 1 // Part 2]

Imagine prompt by: @boodalinski-gifs "Imagine Severus meeting his future s/o when they (being a younger Malfoy relative) accompany Lucius to see Draco's quidditch match."

Pairing: Snape x Female!Malfoy!OC

Setting: Malfoy Manor, New Year's Eve Celebration -> Spinners End

POV: Third limited, Snape tilt.

Word Count: 6432

Warnings: Harsh language, mentions of previous violence

Ending recap: He leaned his head against the side of her's as his arms wrapped tightly around her lush body. She shivered and he sighed. So this is what you feel like, to hold... "Severus?" His breath caught as that was the first time she had uttered his given name; like fuel to the raging storm inside him, it made him tremble ever so slightly. It sounded otherworldly as it came from her. "Yes?" "Don't let go," she hummed and he hugged her tighter. Held her closer. Pressed her to himself as if life depended on it while that storm raged in his chest; a storm of thunder and lightning as burning as dragonfire. As he struggled to stay in reality and not cave to the fantasy that allowed him to be with her like this to the end of time.

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

The end of time seemed to arrive swiftly. Too swiftly. Arabella leaned away from him and her hand gently got folded within his as he wished for nothing to be close to her. Her bright eyes gleamed at him with a reflection of the shining moon.

"Arabella, I-" but words eluded him as she was breathtaking and Severus struggled with words worthy of her. Words he could speak most gently and endearingly to her were not so easily found. "Yes?" she prompted and the corner of his lips tugged slightly in a tiny smile. "You are most beautiful," he said with that rumbling voice of his, "sweet and gentle," he continued and she giggled.

Severus arched his brow at the giggling beauty. "I may be many things, Severus, gentle is however not one of my qualities." Her left hand rose to her mouth to stiffen the giggle. As she did so a ring caught his attention. It looked misplaced and in all ways wrong on her delicate hand.

The ring was bold and the ruby too big for its band. The many little diamonds covering the golden band made it look as out of place on her as if it were placed on the head of a pixie as a crown. Arabella noticed his disapproval of the jewelry and something about her changed. Noticeably so.

"You do not approve I take it?" Arabella said and her voice seemed stiffer than he had ever heard it. "I do not, no." "Well, you're not wrong," she said as she looked at her hand with a harsh sigh, "I don't really fancy it, nore do I enjoy seeing it on my finger. I don't really like it all. Or what it stands for," she stated and it puzzled him. He looked at the ring and then at her.

His blood kept heating by her proximity and had it not been for the possibility of getting caught he would have ventured to kiss her. Yet he held the yearning at bay as her words had caught his attention. "Do tell," he murmured in a thunderingly low voice. At that, she looked up at him, somewhat hesitantly and the feeling felt misplaced in her. HE did not see her as hesitant or unsure, the very opposite actually.

"I'm to be married," she stated flatly. His heart nearly stopped at those words. As if the world stood still, frozen in its rotation. He could not quite understand what she was saying. "I'm sorry?" "Married, I am to be married, Severus." This time he heard her perfectly as his heart silently broke and crumbled in his chest that in an instant felt as empty and cold as it had before she had entered his life that day on the quidditch pitch.

He took a step back, involuntarily, and the pain in his chest intensified at the loss of contact with her. "Severus, I-" "Married? You are engaged, to be married?" She nodded and he stiffened, hardened. His posture became rigid, his eyes cooled to ice and it felt as all warmth left his physical body as cold stone overtook his mind and soul.

He could not for the life of him understand the situation. Usually, he was quick in thinking, impossibly fast in his reactions and utterly careful to show no emotion he did not choose to showcase for others. But at that moment, he was without words, without control, his emotions clearly visible and he had not the slightest chance at reeling them in while in her presence.

"You toyed with me," he whispered in a growl. She shook her head profusely. "I did no such thing, Severus-" "You did. You are engaged, to be married yet here you stand. Clinging to me, overpowering me, engaging in my emotions." His words were harsh, cold and lingered in the air as thunderclouds. "Severus, please I-" "You do not get to use my name, Miss Malfoy. You do not-" "I don't love him!" she nearly screamed and it made Severus go utterly silent and still.

"Can't you tell by this hideous thing?" She held up her hand and the disrespectful ring gleamed in the moonlight. "Can you not tell that this man does not know me? Can you not tell that I hate this? Can't you see that I want to part in-" "Ah, there you are. I was starting to wonder my dear."

Severus looked at Arabella as her eyes readjusted to the man entering the balcony. The man Severus not long ago wanted to end for simply kissing Arabella's cheek. "Mr Dox," she said with a slight courtesy towards him. To any other, it might have looked respectful and friendly, even as if she were pleased to see the revolting man that was walking towards them.

He saw it was not. The shine in her eyes was gone. The softness to her stature had perished and she looked cold. Nothing like the woman he knew her to be. Nothing like the woman she was in only his presence. "Mr. Snape," Mr. Dox said and Severus turned towards the man with the smallest of nods. "Pleasure to see you here, I was afraid somebody might have run off with my beautiful girl," he snickered with a snake-like grin.

Severus merely contained his fury at the man. At the engagement. At it all. "Mr. Dox, you are to be married to this woman I hear?" Dox smiled widely and that harshness in his eyes lacked all comforts of humanity. "Indeed, I'm a very lucky man," he said and stepped closer to Arabella as Severus stepped back a step. Dox was not a man to be taken lightly after all. Despite his young age.

"Arabella, my dear, come join me for a dance before the fireworks," Dox said and it took everything within Severus not to lunge at the despicable excuse of a man. "Of course, Mr. Dox," Arabella said flatly before looking at Severus, "I'll see you later, Mr. Snape." Severus bowed deep for her but Dox laughed loudly. "What could you possibly have to bother Mr. Snape with, dear?" "She does not bother me in the slightest," Severus stated with a monotone voice that revealed none of his fury.

Dox smiled wickedly, "Mr. Snape, surely you have no interest in this girl? She's of little importance and low stature, not to mention she's low of age and merit. Beautiful, but that will fade," Dox stated as his fingers graced Arabella's cheek softly but with a domineering dominance.

The words the man described Arabella with made his blood boil. It took every ounce of his strength not to haul her away from him and end the miserable lifeform that stood by her. "You ought not to speak in such manners of your future wife, Mr. Dox," Severus stated with such coldness it was a wonder his mouth didn't freeze from them. "Come now Mr. Snape, women are for men to have and own. They are great distractions-" "If that is your view of women, Mr. Dox, I see no need for marriage. Especially with a woman such as Ms. Malfoy here," he said with a nod towards Arabella and she seemed to soften as their eyes met for a moment.

"Well, that's not for you to think about," Dox said, "I mean, you have no interest in fleeting feelings like love or lust. I've never known you to be with a woman. Besides, you are a little old to admire such a beauty as this, are you not?" "And you are a little young to know of love and lust, Mr. Dox," Severus countered harshly before giving Arabella a swift glance. He was searching for what she wished him to do - but there was nothing there to show him.

"Good one, Mr. Snape," Dox laughed with a shake of his head, "well, as amusing as this is we should go back inside. Come now," Dox said as he placed his arm around Arabella's waist and steered her away before another word could be spoken. They closed the door behind them and left him alone with only the moon for company. Its white light looked as empty and cold as his chest felt.

He stood utterly still, have I lost her before I even ever had her? And tot hat, that vulture? He will break her... He thought as his shoulders sank and his stance loosened. It was nearly midnight and soon the fireworks would light up the dark sky with colour and sparkles. He wanted no part of it.

It took him a mere moment to decide. He would leave. He would leave and never see her ever again. That was the only option. He could not trust himself with her. He could not trust himself around Dox. He could lest of all trust himself around Arabella with Dox by her side. So to leave was the only option. Dox had nothing to do with Hogwarts and there was no danger of seeing either of them at the school or his own home.

He would keep to those places for the time being. Until he felt, dead or nothing at all. For what he felt now, was nothing but the purest of torture and agony. Hate and dread, fear and pain, longing and hurt. To be broken so utterly was perhaps irrevocable. Perhaps he would have to adjust to this new sense of being as a crushed man with nothing but fear for the one woman he had otherworldly feelings for.

Was this love? Was it really love when all that came with it was pain? He could not answer that as he had no idea how to deal with the only possible answer. To admit it would be the last attack, the last crack, the last fracture in him. If he admitted that love was only meant as pain for him in life he might as well end that life. And he could not, would not.

Something in him told him to hold on, that at some point things would be different or perhaps some time she would need him. And never would he leave the world if that ever was the case. How could he?

But for now, he would leave. He would go away and stay away. For as long as possible. There is no other way, he thought as he took the stone stairs down from the balcony, crossed the lawn and stepped away from Malfoy Manor. Stepped away from Arabella. Stepped away from the hollow pain that only seemed to echo louder in his cold chest for every step that separated him from her, from his love.

Time passed as Severus focused on work. He focused so hard that the days blurred together, the student's face's meant nothing and he rarely spoke a word outside of the classroom. He was not known for speaking, nor for remembering students but not a single person could have missed the change in him from before the Christmas break and after it.

January passed as he dulled the banging in his chest with planning his year's work. February passed as he caged his feelings with late-night patrols. Mars passed while he buried himself in essays and homework corrections. April passed as he did all he could to not think of the marriage taking place. May passed as he shut down in all ways possible as he became more stone than human. June passed as he corrected end of term papers, essays, tests and graded students without ever knowing who he graded as hiss students by then were a mere mess of endless faces with no significant meaning.

When the school was empty and summer had arrived fully at the end of June he left Hogwarts. He arrived late afternoon at his own home and it was as dirty and empty as he remembered it. If anybody had asked him about the time at Hogwarts he could not have given them an answer even if he tried. He remembered barely anything from it and the exhaustion that filled him was as close to death as he had ever been physically.

He simply dumped the little bag he had with him in the hallway and stepped into the little house. Barely had he made it to the bedroom before he sat down on the side of the bed and felt the exhaustion overcome him in a way that he could not keep at bay. He fell backwards and closed his eyes; asleep before he took a second breath.

He slept until the sun had set for a second time. He felt numbly refreshed yet as tired as ever when he woke up in darkness. His back was stiff, his neck sore and he desperately needed a shower and change of clothes.

As he was sat by the kitchen table, dressed in black linen pants, a white shirt and black socks, he sipped a cup of black strong coffee. His home felt, for the first time, as a sanctuary. It was a place where he had no connection to her, to Arabella. She had never set foot in his home and despite the horrid memories of hurt the place held, that pain was nothing in comparison to the loss of her.

The darkness surrounded the world and he felt as if it suited the darkness within him perfectly. Before Arabella, he had never considered that his life could get worse. Or better either. But apparently, both things could happen. Unfortunately in the wrong damn order. "Perhaps, she's happy..." he pondered as he drank the last of the coffee and set the cup in the sink to be cleaned later. The thought made him feel better and worse at the same time as it didn't sit right. Her being happy with that vulture felt as wrong as it could. But he hoped he was incorrect. Hoped she was happy. Hopped everything was good with her. Hoped she had a good life; even if he had no part in it.

There was a pounding at the door and Severus sighed deeply as he was in the middle of cooking dinner. the house was filled with the scent of spices and he had no intention of opening the door. Nobody had any business with him at this time or his home. He determined that it was most likely kids banging on all doors to rile up people. So e promptly ignored it as he kept stirring in the pot.

The loud banging was heard again shortly after, it sounded more urgent and harsher so he slammed the lid on the pot and took off the white apron before throwing it over a chair. He would never let anyone see him in a fucking apron, that was sure as hellfire.

He hadn't reached the door when someone tugged at the handle and banged again, even harder. "What in the-" He unlocked the door and pulled it open harshly as a small, pale hand hit his chest in a knocking motion. The person's head was turned away and clad in a hood of darkest black. But he knew. He would have known anywhere who was hiding beneath the billowing fabric that swallowed her like a shadow.

"Arab-" he caught himself, "Mrs. Dox," he corrected and he nearly died as her face turned toward him. "What did he-" "Please, let me in Mr. Snape, please I-" she cried and he grabbed her thin arm and yanked her into his hallway before the door was slammed shut with a loud bang that made Arabella jump slightly.

He was furious, absolutely enraged by the mere sight of her. She was thin, too thin. Her beautiful face marred and marked by bruises in varying shades of purple and green. Old and new bruises. He was outraged beyond compare with any other feelings he had ever felt related to anger. He was literally shaking, his hands flexed as they hang by his sides. His heart pounded as if he had run hundreds of miles.

"I'm going to kill him." The words vibrated out of him and hung in the air with promise. The only other sound was Arabella's hushed crying. "Arabella, I will end him for this," he said and it was as if all the time she had been away from him came crashing back in his memory.

When he had graded essays, had she been beaten? When he went on nightly patrols, had she been crying? When he held lectures on potions, had she been abused? When he had suffered from the loss of her, had she suffered from the loss of safety and freedom?

He could not think straight, could not grasp how badly the man had treated her. He could not stop blaming himself for it either. He had known, from the beginning, what kind of man Dox was. How he treated women. And the way he had spoken of Arabella that night on the balcony had irreversibly shown that he harboured the same feelings towards her. Meaning none.

"Mr.- Mr. Snape," Arabella pleaded and his eyes found hers. They were empty and there was a clear loss of the joy that had lingered so openly there before. "I think..." she mumbled feebly and her face turned ashen as her knees buckled. He caught her before she fell to the floor. Her breaths were shallow and short, she felt too light in his arms. What has he done to you... The thought echoed as he carried her up the stairs and placed her on his own bed, gently.

The hood fell back and revealed her tightly skinned face as her cheekbones, jaw and temples were to defined along with her collarbones the protruded harshly. He caressed her cheek softly with his cold hands and felt tears prick in his eyes. He felt as if he had done this to her, in some way, he was responsible. It burdened him more than he could bear.

He placed a blanket atop her before he closed the door and left her to rest alone - despite wanting to be as close as possible it felt wrong in her unresponsive and unaware state. So he went down to the kitchen again and busied himself with the rest of the cooking.

He had just finished setting the table as a scream was heard from upstairs. His heart skipped a beat and he dashed towards his bedroom while calling Arabella's name. He found her pressed against the furthest wall in the room with fearful eyes and panting breaths.

Severus stepped into the room and she found him with her large eyes. "S-severus-" she breathed and in an instant, they met in the middle of the room. He buried her in his arms as she sobbed into his chest with mumblings of his name, over and over. She cried and held on to him as if her life depended on it. He held her tightly and let her cry as much as she needed no matter how badly it made him hurt to see her in such a way.

After a minute he kissed the top of her head, her platinum blond hair tattered and unwashed. "He-, he wanted me to-, to make an unbreakable vow," she mumbled between sniffles. He stiffened around her. "I, I didn't know where to go. I, I ran away, I-" she said as she was shaking violently in his embrace and he hushed her. Tried to calm her as best he could.

"What unbreakable vow?" he asked after a moment. She sniffled again. "To be with none other," she whispered as if the words were strangling her. "And you ran?" "Yes, I, I can't be with him, I don't want to be with him..." Severus felt both hope and dread, pain and joy at the same time. The feelings were very much at war within him.

He was at a loss for words. What could he say? What could he do? What he wanted to say was of no use, what he wanted to do was abhorrent to do in her current situation at that moment. So he just held her. Closely.

"I didn't know where else to go," she whispered on a shaky breath. "You are always welcome here, Arabella," he murmured with that husky voice that vibrated through him. He felt as though she smiled for a moment, but dismissed the thought. The words of Mr. Dox clung in his mind no matter how hard he tried to banish them. He was too old. He was not good enough for such a beauty as Arabella.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, despite not wanting her to break away from him. "Very," she said, "something smells wonderful," she continued and looked up at him. He felt both joy and pure fury at that moment. As she saw the latter emotion she looked away. He took her chin in his cold hand and steered her face back to his.

"You are beautiful," he said, as softly as he could. She just blinked at him. "But you do need to eat," he continued, "and never be within reach of him again." Severus studied the blackened eye, the broken lip and bruised jaw as rage boiled in him. "I'm sorry-" "It is not your fault," he said before she could finish whatever nonsense apology she endeavored to disclose. She had nothing to apologies for.

"Come, let's eat." She tilted her head and looked with a puzzled look at him. "What is the matter?" "You cook?" she asked in disbelief. He simply arched a brow. "Well, do you?" she pressed again. "I cook, I cook very well I would say. It's much like potions and I would say I am rather accomplished in that field," he said matter of factly as he offered her his arm. "So, shall we?" she nodded and took his arm.

"You weren't lying," she mumbled between bites, "you do cook very well," she continued as she cleared a second plate of the food. "Thank you," Severus said as he placed his cutlery on the empty plate. He studied her for a moment as she gulped down food as if she were truly starving. Has she been starving? The thought felt strange as she seemed to love food and Dox had no shortage of money so food should have been provided for her.

As Severus cleared the table and did the dishes with help of magic she sipped a cup of green tea. The silence felt oddly good but he missed hearing her joyfully playfully voice. He had not heard it in many months now. Not since the balcony.

They were seated in the living room, he in his chair and her on the small couch. They had been silent for a long time, Severus had heated the living room with a pleasant fire and it was now a comfortable temperature but Arabella seemed a bit bothered and her cheeks had a bit of colour to them.

"Severus?" "Yes?" "May, can I use your shower?" she said as her eyes seemed fixed on the tattered rug by his feet. "Of course," he said and rose from the chair, "this way." She followed as he led her to the first floor and the door opposite of the bedroom. "Here, there are towels in the cabinet, let the water run for a moment before you step in. It's usually cold for a moment," he said and she nodded. He left her to take a shower and returned to the living room and sipped on a fresh cup of tea.

The pipes rustled for a while and then went silent. The door opened, another door opened, a slight ruckus and then a door closed, softly padding feet was heard and the bathroom door closed again with its distinctive squeak of the top hinge. What is she doing?

He went back to his reading and tea as he waited, and waited, and waited. When he finally heard the bathroom door open and the padding of soft feet down the stairs he straightened, put away his book and looked towards the door opening.

His breath caught in his throat as she stepped in. He stared at her. Dumbfounded. "Sorry, I hope it's okay?" She said and pulled a little on one of the hems of his white shirt. She was drowned in the fabric. Her legs bare and the shirt reached almost to her knees. Further down was a pair of his black socks, so big that they just bulged around her ankles. She looked as beautiful as he had ever seen her and he was in awe of the emotions that raged within him.

"Severus? Is, is it okay?" "Yes, yes it is," he said and rose from the chair to walk over to her. He just wanted to hold her. And she walked straight into his arms, no hesitation or restriction. He held her close and she smelled of his shampoo and soap. The scent mingled with her own and it felt heavenly for him.

"Can I stay?" she asked while her cheek rested against his chest. "Yes," he simply said. He would never turn her away. Never. That feeling he had had so many months ago blossomed; she had needed him after all. Had he not stayed in the land of the living she would have not had him to turn to at that moment and it gave him great joy that he could, after all, be of some use to his love.

She laid in his bed, he had given her the main bedroom despite her trying to refuse. He could not sleep down the hall when she was so close. He stood in the doorway and looked at her. Moonlight danced over the naked skin of her shoulder where the bruises of a man's hand stood out in purple shades against her pale skin.

He fisted his hands as he crossed his arms over his chest. What could he do about Dox? What could he do for Arabella? What should he do? What should he not do? What was possible? What was impossible? He tried to sort it all out but his mind kept strolling off to her. The need to hold her close made his skin crawl with want.

"Are you just going to stare at me or come over?" The soft yet high-pitched voice sang out the words and he had no time to think before he walked over. "Come, sleep here," she said and opened the cover to reveal her body clad in one of his nightshirts. He crawled in, fully clad. She snuggled closer and he felt oddly content. Despite the situation and circumstances of her being with him.

He couldn't remember falling asleep but he woke up from Arabella's voice. She was softly and silently singing. A lullaby if he were not mistaken. Her fingers stroked his hair and cheek as he stayed still with his eyes closed. She sang of love and adoration, of soft meadows and singing stars, of dancing rain and flying clouds.

It wasn't until she went quiet that he wanted to open his eyes to look at her. But right as he was about to do so, a sob escaped her. Yet she kept stroking his hair and he could not bear the thought of disturbing her in her sorrow.

"You never replied to my letters... You never came to the wedding... You never came. You never answered." Severus stiffened as she spoke of him, to him. "I love you, and you never came. I waited, but you never came," she whispered with shaky breaths and he cursed himself. "I wrote to you, I asked you to help... I asked you to save me. Help me," she whispered as her hand stopped stroking his hair and cheek. He missed the touch instantly.

He had never opened the letters. He had never looked twice at them. Had had simply tossed them in the fire as his chest felt tight with cold and empty from that hollow feeling she had left him with at the balcony. Foolish, I was so foolish... Selfish. At that thought of a word, she kissed his temple so softly and he could not find the strength to open his eyes and face her allegations.

He woke up in an empty and cold bed. He looked around as he jerked upright. "Arabella?" he called with gravelly morning voice, no reply. He left the bed instantly. "Arabella?" he called again as he stepped out of the bedroom. Again, no replay. "Arabella?" he called louder as he took the stairs in fluent strides. "In here, Severus!" she called and he steered towards the kitchen as he could smell coffee brewing and something burning.

The kitchen was nearly half-filled with smoke as he entered and Arabella seemed to try and air it out with an open window. "What, do tell, are you doing with my kitchen?" he asked with amused severity. She sighed and her cheeks turned a little red. "I was trying to make breakfast..." He arched a brow and loomed into the kitchen.

Indeed, it seemed as if she had been trying to make pancakes. He gave the burnt batter a sneer and shook his head. "Sit," he said and tossed the whole pan in the sink to be dealt with at a later time. He twirled his wand and created a gust of wind that cleared the smoke out through the window. Arabella sat with a cup of coffee with some milk in it. Severus poured a cup for himself; black. As he sipped it he easily made a new batter and fried some pancakes with ease.

He served the pancakes and caught Arabella smiling fondly at him. "You look good in the kitchen," she said with a wide smile. He scoffed and sat opposite her with his coffee cup. "Truly, you do. I'd like to see you cook every day," Arabella said and moved a pancake to her plate. "Do you?" "I do," she answered, "I can't cook worth shi- Umh, at all," she corrected herself and Severus laughed. Yes, he laughed, for the first time in a very long time.

"I love that sound." Severus went quiet immediately as her eyes found his. He disliked his own laugh but it made her eyes twinkle, so perhaps it was not so bad a laugh? "Well, I believe I do not want you in my kitchen after this so feel free to leave that cooking to me," Severus said softly as he moved a pancake to his own plate. "Does that mean I can stay? With you?"

It took a moment for him to answer her as his thought were at war yet again. "Do you want to be with me?" he asked, "I'm an old man, Arabella, and-" She smacked his shoulder. "Severus, please, you know of my feelings and I know you feel the same damn way so don't pretend. Just don't," she said with a harsh look at him. "Forgive me, but you married. You married and were not to be mine ever." His words made her shrink as if he had physically hurt her.

"Did, did you not read my letters?" Severus stiffened, he had wanted to avoid that subject for all eternity if he had had the chance. "I, did not. No," he said in a low growl. "If you had read them... You would have known that I was forced to marry him for the money he promised my family. For the step-up, he offered in society by just being connected with him. IF you had read the letters, you would have known what he was doing to me, what he forced me to be for him," tears stung her eyes and she seemed so little and frail.

Severus looked at her. "Had I know, I would have come." The words were stated clearly, "but I could not bear to read your letters, your words, when I had no hopes of being with you," he said and guilt ate at him. He felt truly terrible. "It was selfish, I am aware of that-" "You were hurting," Arabella interrupted and it took him off guard. Nobody ever validated his feelings or understood them. Or even acknowledged they existed.

"Do you have the letters?" He shook his head. "I burned them," he said honestly and she looked both glad and sad at the same time. "Well, let's leave that then," she said and Severus nodded. "There is something else I-, I want to ask you about," Arabella said. "You should eat, and then we can talk." Arabella smiled tightly and shoved a piece of pancake in her mouth with a delightful humming.

She tried to talk a few times but Severus just arched his brow until the pancakes were gone and he was on his second cup of coffee. "Done," Arabella declared with a content smile. Severus hummed and nodded. "What did you want to talk about?" He asked as he topped off their cups with more coffee.

It took a moment, a moment he spent just looking at the beauty that was Arabella - despite the thinness and the bruises. She was all he could have ever dreamt of, and she was sitting in his shirt in his kitchen sipping coffee from his cup - yet she was not his. "I want to run away," Arabella said. "Run, away? You have?" "No, silly, I want to run away with you. Away from here and away from, him, and be with you." Severus just stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Severus, I love you. You know this." "I'm, just, shocked. I," he said softly as his mind raced. She wanted to be with him? Wanted to run away with him? Leave her husband for him? Be his instead? Was that even possible? "Arabella, you do realize what you're saying?" "Yes, I am saying that I love you beyond compare and I am asking, very selfishly, for you to help me and be with me because I love you." "And I love you." She smiled at his words.

"I know it's sudden and selfish, Severus, but my feelings for you have not changed since the first time I met you." Severus looked at her and soft warmth spread through that hollowness in his chest. "You, Arabella, are not selfish in any way." He reached for her hand and she gently placed hers in his. "I love you, deeply. I've, I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you," Severus said softly as his thumb stroked the ridge of her knuckles. "I may not have the best reputation, in romance, or other things. But, I do not want to destroy your reputation darling."

She stared at him. Just stared. For a long moment and he became restless from her look. "You're afraid to ruin my reputation?" Severus nodded. Arabella laughed. "Severus, I am Arabella Mal- Arabella Dox, married to Rovius Dox. I think my reputation is the least fo my worries." "Still, I do not-" "Enough!" Arabella slammed her hands on the table as she stood up, "Enough Severus, what are you so afraid of? Why won't you just fucking be with me?!" She glared at him and he looked at her.

"Do you not love me?" "I do." "Do you not want me?" "I do." "And do you, or do you not want to help me survive this shitstorm my family fucking forced me into?!" "I do..." "Then what, by Merlin, is your fucking problem?!"

Severus stared at her as she seemed to be ready to explode, or perhaps she was exploding? "Arrrgh! What is wrong with you?!" she screamed with her hands thrown up towards the heavens and Severus could not for the life of him figure out what he had done. "Well, that depends on who you ask," he drawled as he slowly rose from his seat. "Well I am asking you what is wrong with you!" she screamed back and Severus took a step back.

Not for fear of her, but she seemed more intimidated by him as he rose to his full height. "Would you like me to sit down again?" "No, what, why?" "Well you, you shrunk and stepped back as I stood..." Arabella seemed offended by the thought but she smiled at the same time. "Arabella, how badly did he hurt you?"

His heart twisted at the view of her. She looked broken. From thunderstorm to softly falling rain on a dull day. "Darling, please," he said as he took a slow step towards her, "tell me." She looked at him as her arms hugged her own chest and tears started to fall. "I'm sorry, Severus, I'm so sorry. I, I'm not mad at you. I'm just-" "In pain," he finished for her and she nodded. He reached for her and she stepped into his embrace.

"Let's leave. We'll go somewhere nobody will find you." She looked up at him as he spoke and her smile, her smile broke every barrier and coldness that had built up. "Where do you want to go, Arabella?" "You mean anywhere?" Severus nodded and he felt her relax. As if he had relieved her of some sort of burden. "I want to go, where you will be." Her answer made something in his stomach flutter and that boiling heat that roiled and coiled in his veins seared him violently.

"What, what do we do about Rovius?" she asked with a shaky voice and Severus stiffened ever so slightly. "He's not to be taken lightly. You are aware of his connections and status. And I fear, he will use that to find you." "I know, he's, he's not a man that lets things go. Ever," she whispered and her thin arms shook as she clung to him. "I won't let him have you." The words were as clear as the first light of dawn on a winter morning after the darkest of nights.

He would live by them forever. He would live by her side, for her and with her for as long as she allowed him to be. If the day came, when she did not want him any longer, he knew he would be ruined and ended at that moment. But for the time being, he allowed hope to enter his heart and love to fill the empty void she had once left him with.

Hey guys! :D Hope you enjoyed this third part! :D I am currently running a high fever so if it’s not adequate I apologies! :P Hopefully you liked it! I actually had trouble writing this one, I hade so many thoughts but could not fit them all so I am wondering, would you guys like a part 4 as well or are you satisfied with this ending for Arabella and Severus? ;P

Please like, comment and share - it means so much to me! <3

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

Tags: @lizlil

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irwinkitten · 5 years ago

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quarantine and chill | poly!lashton

notes: so as some of you may know, i got hit with covid-19. i’d kept socials updated with my symptoms and how i was dealing with it but i’ve been quite on the aftermath of what i went through. so i did what i do best, i wrote. similar with teulu, i decided to write it out in the form of a fic. a lot of what happens is what i’ve had to struggle through with regards to recovery and what i’m still struggling with. there is a lot that i haven’t really talked about with it either, however i got the main points down and just wrote. if i was feeling better, i’d probably have shifted it to an oc but this felt much too personal to do. i was debating on whether or not this was going to be posted. at first i wasn’t, then i wasn’t sure. i finally decided to because i enjoy writing and i enjoy giving people something to read, something to enjoy. i also decided on poly!lashton mostly because of the interview on one of the instagram lives where ash said he cooks and i think it was with @sexgodashton where were talking about how ashton would mother hen you when you’re sick lmao and then i got daydreamy because i’ve been dealing with the whole situation alone and it’s difficult when your loved ones (both friends and family) are too far away and unable to be with you. i’m rambling at this point but yeah, tldr; this is really personal on how i recovered from that godforsaken virus. warnings: talks of dying, depression, sickness word count: 9k (oops)

donate to my ko-fi here

When you’d come home from closing up the store, it had been an almost nightmarish day for you. It felt surreal that the store was closing until further notice and you had no idea when you were going to even be back in your job again.

What frustrated you was the fact that you hadn’t been able to book a flight out to LA before the travel bans kicked in, leaving you to be self-isolating in your apartment for the duration of the lockdown, alone.

Luke and Ashton had both voiced their complaints, but no amount of money being thrown at the problem wasn’t getting you back to LA with them.

“How are you feeling?” Ashton asked over facetime whilst you tidied up. The simplicity of living in communal housing meant that you only had two rooms to tidy and keep clean. Luke and Ashton loved it for the fact that it afforded the three of you some privacy away from prying eyes of the media because you were tight-lipped about where you lived.

“Tired. I’ve cried a lot and I’m missing the both of you.” You admitted quietly as Luke popped into the screen, his head resting on Ashton’s shoulder. His lips wore a tired smile, one that you could match.

“We’re missing you too, love.” Luke’s voice was comforting. You finally settled down on the couch, your body sinking into the cushions and sighed.

“You know you don’t have to worry right? Ash and I are gonna help you.” The reassurance from Luke made your lips twitch up.

“I know. I’m just frustrated. They should have made this decision well over a week ago.”

Neither of them could say much against that. You’d told the company bosses that you were at risk, you’d warned them that the store wouldn’t pull in enough money to warrant staying open for the week.

But they’d simply said that they were following government guidelines. It had been nothing but frustration for the three of you.

“Are you both home finally?” Your question was much quieter and Ashton grimaced.

“Because I have a cough, they’ve organised us to be quarantined since we’re together. They’ve done the tests but I don’t think it’s anything, I think it’s just allergies playing up since I’ve been sneezing non stop.” Ashton explained and you sighed.

“Irony at its finest.” You received sad smiles in return from your boys.

“I’ve got some last minute paperwork to finish up and send off since I couldn’t do so at the shop. How about I call you both tomorrow?” Luke pouted and you giggled at the expression, your heart lifting that little bit.

“Fine but next time I’m hogging the phone.” Luke muttered and you laughed before blowing them both a kiss.

“Love you both, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The paperwork was easy to finish off and left you a few hours to shower and change whilst tidying up around.

When you crawled into bed, you checked your phone to see a photo of the two of them snuggled up together, Ashton practically smothering Luke. You sent them one back of you with the bear they’d gotten you, sprayed in their cologne.

When you woke up the next day, there was only a slight difference, your blocked nose making you groan.

“Fucking allergies.” Was muttered as you made your way to the bathroom, waving to one of your neighbours who was just leaving the kitchen.

You’d decided to stock up on food, making quick work of the short walk. It was nice to be able to still move about in the fresh air at least, offering a small, yet nervous smile at the cashier as you paid for your shopping, packed it in your bag and made your way home.

Before you even realised it, you’d settled on the couch and fallen asleep, wrapped up in your fluffy blanket, eyes heavy as you set an alarm.

You slept through the alarm and when you next woke up, there were three missed facetimes from Luke. You called him back immediately.

“There’s the love of our lives.” Luke crowed when he answered, making you laugh. It was followed by a cough which made Luke pause, his eyes studying the screen. “Said love of our lives doesn’t look too well.” The concern was evident and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s probably allergies and my body finally relaxing from the last three weeks of stress.” Luke didn’t look convinced but you managed to switch the conversation. “Did you find out the results of Ashton’s test?”

“Yeah, he came up negative. Since we’ve been quarantined for what, three weeks now? We’ll probably be on the next essential flight back home. But that won’t be for another week from what they’ve said. We both agreed to hang back long enough to let other people go ahead.” You frowned at that.

“But baby, you guys need to be back for the launch.” He shook his head.

“Ash was quite forceful with management on this one. There isn't going to be any kind of physical launch so we’re cleared to be delayed, just as long as we have a good wifi connection for the weekend for the various streams.” You sighed but understood their concerns.

“How is our no longer sick drummer boy?” You finally asked and as if he was waiting for the question, he all but piled himself on top of Luke, a muffled whine escaping as he tried to shove Ashton off him.

You laughed.

“Behave children otherwise no rewards.” You teased them, making the two of them laugh as they settled themselves down on the sofa they were on.

The conversation was easy between the three of you as they both excitedly discussed the possible plans they had for the album release, relying on them being home on time to do so.

“It wouldn’t do well to be still in the air when we do the release party, but knowing our luck...” Ashton trailed off, making you snort.

“Knowing our luck, that’s what would happen.” You grinned and he rolled his eyes.

“Probably.”

The three of you talked until you were dropping off, and despite voicing their concerns, you waved them off, pointing out that you always got like this during allergy season. Ashton didn’t argue the point, but Luke still frowned in concern.

“We love you, sunshine. Get some decent rest please.” He’d pleaded with you and you gave them both a gentle smile in return, hoping that it was at least semi-reassuring.

“I’ll be fine, but I’ll go to bed. Love you two.”

“Love you more.” Came the unified response before the call dropped and you settled back asleep.

Part of you knew that you should’ve realised that they had every right to be concerned when you woke up the following morning.

Your entire body was aching. And what concerned you most was the tightness across your chest coupled with the pain radiating across your body.

When you checked your temperature, you felt your stomach sink at the fact that your fever had crept up and was alarmingly high. So you called the helpline, putting the phone on speaker whilst you waited to get through, sending a text to the group chat you had with your boyfriends.

‘Woke up with fever and body hurts. Struggling to breath too so checking in with the helpline to see what i need to do. Don’t know if I’m gonna be up for calling later bc I wanna sleep.’

You felt bad but you could already feel the drowsiness pull at your body.

When you got through and described your symptoms, the lady on the other end advised you to self-isolate and upon the symptoms getting worse, to call the emergency services.

You relayed the information back to Luke and Ashton before falling asleep after taking some medication, trying to desperately ignore how much your body ached as you slept.

The first few days, it felt like you’d been run over with a truck repeatedly, but what concerned you was the pain that was radiating from your kidneys. Both Luke and Ashton knew of your previous history with kidney failure and both had been urging you to go into the hospital, but you’d couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t that bad.

By day four, both of your boyfriends were worried because you’d mentioned to them that you were unable to breath properly. It was late at night, but with the pain reaching an overwhelming point, you knew it was pointless to argue. Even your friends had been urging you to contact the helpline once more.

You’d been on hold for over an hour as the pain got worse. You were struggling to focus and it was everything you could do to try and breathe through the agony that was radiating through your body, so you cut off from the hold music and contacted the emergency services.

This time fear started to settle into your stomach as you answered the questions posed to you, trying to get across that it wasn’t a block of flats but a shared home.

The operator understood and urged you to get help from your neighbours to at least let the crew into the building. You were nervous enough about standing up by yourself but you managed.

When you stood from your bed, the walk to the door, even though it was five steps away, the agony that shot up your legs had you stumbling into the door.

Pulling it open, despite your neighbour’s door being six feet away, you knew you weren’t going to be able to stumble that far. The pain was steadily getting worse and tears started falling down your cheeks.

“Can someone help?” You finally got out, gasping for a breath once the words were out. Your neighbour was quick to open the door and knew something was wrong.

“What’s happened, are you okay?”

“Can’t breathe. Called medics, but need someone to let them in.” You gasped out and he nodded, taking a step closer.

“Lets sit you down and I’ll get one of the others to go and wait for them.” The firm grip on your arms supported you, your own hands grasping his arms to keep you from falling as he slowly walked you back to the edge of your bed, setting you down gently.

The pain receded slightly.

“I’m gonna prop the door open and get one of the others to come and give me a hand, is that okay?” And you could only nod tearfully as you tried to take in slow breaths, despite the pain that was radiating from your chest.

With the door propped open, you could hear him banging on the other doors, calling for help and explaining the situation. The hallway wasn’t very long but their voices carried down to you as you tried, and failed, to calm down.

And then the medics were there, pulling the blanket from your shoulders despite how cold you were feeling.

“It’s because of the fever, your body is already warm, you won’t be helping yourself with the blankets.”

They asked various questions and you tried to answer in the gasping breaths, but then the pain shot up and it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Okay, we’re getting you to the hospital.”

You could barely move, but between the medic and your neighbour, they managed to get the things you needed and help you down the stairs. It took much longer, but you knew that rushing wasn’t going to help and the pain was pushing close to hitting 10 for you.

Once in the ambulance, you had a cannula inserted, laughing breathlessly between your tears at the first failed attempt and the second attempt to find a vein.

When you reached the hospital, waiting to hear where you needed to be taken, you finally got out your phone, the morphine hindering your ability to focus, hitting the audio button instead to send a voice note to your now worried boyfriends.

“At the hospital. Been given some morphine but still hurts. Missing you and love you lots.” You could barely keep your eyes open, the words slurring together. The medic gave you a kind smile.

“Partner?” You nodded, the motion making you feel nauseous.

“Need to drive to the other side, they’ve got a specific ward set up.” You heard and realised belatedly that the driver must have turned up. The drive was short and finally you were helped from the vehicle into a waiting wheelchair. You were too tired to protest and you knew it would be quicker for you to get situated.

You could hear them talking, explaining your medical history and the symptoms you were displaying. Part of your mind was listening but the other part of your mind was wondering how Ashton and Luke were.

You missed them.

Once in a room, the nurses took over and did some more tests. Eventually you were left alone, your fever creeping higher despite the fact that you felt so cold. You were tired, but the pain that was radiating from your kidneys and joints, it was enough to keep you awake, unable to relax to sleep.

Your phone was going off every few minutes, various people messaging you, making sure that you were okay. The only ones you were really replying to were Luke and Ashton, but even then it was sparse.

It didn’t stop them from worrying.

When the doctor on shift came into your bare room, it took every effort to focus on her words.

“We’ve taken some bloods to help rule out any other possibilities, despite displaying symptoms of the virus. When we have the first results of your bloods back, we’ll be moving you onto one of the wards, so it should be another hour or so.”

You nodded your head, eyes heavy as you let out a tired sigh.

“Any idea of how long I’ll be here for?” Despite the mask in place, you could see her cheeks lifting up into what you assumed was a smile.

“Less than 24 hours, I’d assume. Try to get some rest, another nurse will be taking some obs in about an hour, before you need to be moved hopefully.” You nodded tiredly, curling up on your side. It seemed to be the only relief you could find.

You drifted in and out, the stark quietness of your room so different to the usual noises you had of cars passing by or Ashton and Luke’s steady breathing.

When the nurse came back in, you were beyond exhausted. You felt nauseous and the pain wasn’t receding.

“We’re going to be moving you instead, they’ll do all the obs that they need once you’re settled in the room. I’m just waiting on the porters.” You nodded tiredly as she unplugged your phone charger and placed your bag at the bottom of the bed.

You kept your face turned into the pillow, the lights hurting your eyes.

“Sensitive to the light?” Came a kind voice, you could only let out a muffled noise of agreement. When you were wheeled into the room, the light was dimmed down and you felt more relaxed.

Glancing at the time you hadn’t realised it’d been so long. The numbers read 7am and you could feel your body shaking, your mind taking a minute to catch up with the fact that you were cold.

The next few hours were difficult. You went from being too hot to freezing cold, the pain creeping up as you tried to curl in on yourself to warm up. Even with additional blankets, you were still shaking, teeth chattering when you tried to talk.

When they took the second round of bloods, you didn’t offer any argument, simply holding out your arm for them to take the blood from. Things were getting hazy and you couldn’t focus on the nurse as he spoke to you about what was going to happen.

You knew some of it was tiredness. Despite the mini naps you were having, you hadn’t slept solidly in nearly 48 hours.

“We’re going to be coming in to do the test in a moment.” You found yourself confused as a different nurse explained what was going to happen and she took her time to make sure you understood each part.

Once it was done, your cough having flared up after having the swab hit the back of your throat you noticed that you had missed calls.

‘How did I not hear them?’ You thought to yourself, confused. You clicked on the notification and realised it was Luke that had been calling.

“Hi angel, we were just checking in.” His voice seemed to set off the tears, unable to understand why you were so tearful. But he heard the sniffle.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this. You know we’re here for you.”

“I just wanna be home with you two.” You choked out, a cough escaping, the motion making you feel sick.

“I know angel, what have the doctors said?” You tried to steady your breathing so you wouldn’t set your coughing off again.

“Two weeks self quarantine.” You finally got out, wiping a few stray tears away. You heard the two of them sigh in unison.

“Maybe we could—”

“Ash no. If they are sick with the virus, it’s likely to just pass between the three of us.” Luke interrupted and you had to hold back the sob.

“I’m scared.” You finally admitted quietly and tried to stop the sob that was crawling up your throat. You knew that if you’d started, you were most likely not going to stop.

“Baby.” Ashton whispered and you sucked in a deep breath, determined not to ask the question.

“Lu’s right. It’d just pass between the three of us. I should have maybe another week of symptoms.” Your voice was quiet but they heard you.

“We’re not going home.” Luke’s voice finally filtered through. “Not with you being in hospital and not with you being so sick. We’re staying in a hotel till your symptoms die down and then we’re gonna come and look after you.”

You couldn’t even argue with them. They were both as stubborn as mules and having them would make the recovery easier with some help.

“How are you gonna get here?” You finally gasped out.

“We’ve got a rented car. We extended it the day you got sick.” You felt your heart warm at their words.

“Okay.” You finally muttered.

Eventually you were discharged with medication for the fever and a reminder to keep your fluid intake up at least.

The journey back was exhausting.

The medic was kind enough to chat to you about your job, about Luke and Ashton. He didn’t bat an eyelash when you mentioned them both. He was quick to help you figure out where the turning was, especially in the dark. And he helped you to the door of the building.

Just the journey up the stairs was tiring, and your neighbours heard you arrive, the three of them checking that you were okay.

“Until my breathing gets worse, I can self manage at home. However, I need rest and my body currently feels like I’ve been run over multiple times.”

One of them checked about collecting your food shop the following morning and you smiled in return before getting into your bedroom and collapsing on the bed.

You made sure that your phone charger was plugged in before sending a text to Luke and Ashton saying you were home. It was barely another five minutes before you fell into a fitful sleep.

The following day you were woken to a knock on your door, but you could barely move. Sleep had been scarce and your joints felt so heavy.

“Don’t try and get up! Just letting you know that I’m off to get your shopping! I should be back in an hour or so.” Your neighbour called through the door and you felt a little bit of relief flood you at that.

“Thanks!” You called back before coughing, twisting sharply to the side where the bowl lay, your body aching when the coughing stopped.

You’d had the bowl lay there since the night before you’d gone into hospital, terrified that the coughing would lead you to throwing up. You weren’t good with vomit at the best of times but this was another level.

Collapsing onto your back, taking in slow deep breaths as you tried to calm your heart down, you took a few moments before taking some meds, pulling the covers off your body to help you cool down. This was the one thing about fever that wasn’t fun for you.

You ended up napping on and off, unable to pay attention to your phone at the various texts coming through from concerned friends before there was another knock on the door which jolted you awake, despite feeling disorientated.

“I’m leaving the bags just outside your doors! Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll have them all up.” You didn’t reply as you heard the hallway door shut, and instead slowly moved to collect one of the face masks you’d been given, slipping it on with ease before grabbing disinfectant wipes.

You ignored the dizziness that caught you off guard, taking a steadying breath as you waited, leaning heavily against the door.

“Right, they’re all there for you chicken!” Your neighbours voice was more distant and you hesitantly opened the door. He was standing halfway down the hallway, a kind smile on his face.

“How are you feeling today?” The concern was genuine and you could only shrug.

“A lot of pain. Not sleeping well.” You got out breathlessly. He frowned.

“Well if you need anything, you’ve got my number now, so just give me a text, especially if you need any drinks. You take care of yourself now.” You lifted your hand in acknowledgement before propping open the living room door and heading in there where your fridge sat.

When the food was put away, you were half staggering the few steps back to your bed, barely getting your mask off and on your desk before you half collapsed on your bed.

Glancing at your phone there was a missed call from Ashton.

“Hi love, you weren’t responding so we figured to call you.” His voice was hesitant when you’d accepted the call.

“Everything hurts Ash.” You finally sobbed, your body protesting the movement, but in that moment you couldn’t care. You missed them both and with the combined pain, it didn’t help.

“Baby.” Luke’s voice was soft and you knew they were worried, but you were too far gone to understand their worries. You just wanted them.

“Want you both, and can’t even have that because of this fucking virus.” You got out a cough ending the sentence as you tried to catch your breath and not choke.

“Calming breaths sweetheart. You’re okay.” Ashton soothed immediately and you tried to follow his instructions. But everything hurt. There was a sharp pain in your chest, coupled with the pain in your lower back as well as the joint aches. It practically burned you.

“Do you think you can manage a shower later, love? It might help.” Luke’s voice was hesitant once you were calm enough and you took in a deep breath.

“Maybe.” You got out, your voice quieter and they knew you were tired.

“Rest for a bit angel, see if you can try and get a few hours at least.” Ashton encouraged and you could feel the heaviness wash over you as you settled down.

“Love you both.” You tiredly got out before you let yourself sink into sleep, taking a slow deep breath as you did.

You didn’t hear their returned words or them cutting the call, you’d fallen asleep easily and your body relaxed just a little bit as you slept.

When you next woke up, it was dark. Making sure that you were at least drinking, you had another glass of juice followed by some water before pulling yourself up to take a shower. You texted them both and your best friend to let them know you’d slept some and you were about to attempt a shower.

It was slow going, trying to keep yourself upright, but the steam helped clear your sinuses, making sure you got every part of you with the scrubber before just standing under the shower, your hands pressed into the cold tiles to keep you upright.

It’d been thirty minutes by the time you’d returned to your room, feeling more tired than when you’d first woken, so you took the opportunity to try and get more sleep.

That was when the coughing became so violent at two in the morning that you felt like you were practically choking on air, unable to catch a breath until you’d rolled onto your side and something cleared enough for you to take a gasping breath, your heart racing so fast that you had to call your best friend to calm down.

It became frightening as days began to pass and you could barely recall them, your mind confused and muddled with exhaustion mixed in with the hunger that was plaguing you. But when you’d eaten, your body had rejected the food immediately so you didn’t try again.

By day ten, you were struggling. You’d cried far too much and your body felt like lead. You knew that both Luke and Ashton were concerned at this point, knowing that this was the point where either you’d start to get better or it could get worse.

Two days later, between fitful nap and gasping breaths after a coughing fit, your phone went off.

It was Ashton.

“Baby?” You got out tiredly, keeping measured breaths as you sat up slowly.

“Take a look outside your bedroom window.” You frowned, moving to the otherside of the room, leaning enough to peer out of your open window before a sob escaped.

They both stood there, arms laden with bags. Both were looking up at you.

“Reckon you can come let us in angel? Lu and I are gonna commandeer your living room ‘till you’re better.” It took everything in you not to go racing down the stairs. You knew it would set you back further so you took hesitant breaths before looking back to your phone then you heard a voice in the hallway.

You were quick enough to catch your neighbour as he was heading back to his room.

“You alright there petal?” His voice was concerned and you held your hand up indicating you needed a moment to catch your breath. He waited patiently.

“My, my partners, they’re downstairs with some shopping and taking over my living room till I’m better. Could you let them in for me please?” You were hesitant in asking, but the pleading eyes you had seemed to have his shoulders wilt as he took a step forward.

“I take it they’re gonna be self-isolating for the two weeks they need to?” You nodded.

“I’ve got to wait seven days after my fever stops as it is before I can even be in the same room as them. I know that they’re worried and being so far hasn’t really helped.” He smiled kindly.

“Got you, petal. Get back in and I’ll go get them for you.”

You could hear their voices get closer and it took everything in you not to throw yourself out of the room at them. You didn’t want them to get sick.

“Delivered safely petal, feel better soon.” Your neighbour called and you tried not to let out a sob.

“Hi angel.” It took everything in you not to open the door. You had to clench your hands into a fist, head resting on the door.

“I don’t know what’s harder. You both being away, or you being so close but I can’t even see you.” You let out a choked cough and Luke let out a soothing noise.

“Well we’ve got you some good wifi now, and we’re here for you angel. We’ve got a couple of streams and you best be watching when we go live.” You let out a breathless giggle. They were there.

The first few days were the hardest. They’d leave cartons of juice and bottles of water outside your door. It finally added to fruit when you managed to keep an orange down.

Watching them do the streams from your living room was strange, but it seemed to settle your anxiety that they were so close. You could see it was being brought up about their shared change of scenery which prompted them to explain after you’d texted Ashton and told him that it was okay for them to know about your situation.

“So our partner, well they got pretty sick at the start of last week. We were already stuck in the UK at this point, so we just extended it so that we’d be with them when they got better. None of us handle being sick alone very well.” This made the other three laugh. You grinned.

“I think that extends to the rest of the band too.” Luke piped up, making the other two complain loudly. You giggled before coughing violently.

“Oops. As you can probably hear, it got real bad and real close by the end of last week. It’s why we were so distracted on the live because we were so worried. When they told us that they’d slept for a solid six hours last night, we made the drive back to theirs, shopping in tow to help look after them. We can’t see them, and Luke and I are stuck on the couch for the next two weeks at least, but we couldn’t just fly out and leave them alone.”

Ashton’s explanation had well wishes pouring in for you and it warmed your heart to see that there were fans that cared.

Part of you wished you could at least be watching them, or better yet, be cuddled up with them, to hell with the stream. But you knew they were trying to keep the focus on the album. You’d already had texts from the others to check in with you and you took your time to reply to them and settle down, your eyes heavy as you snuggled under the covers.

It was nice to watch them, seeing the ease in the way they joked about. You knew they worried but it was obvious to anyone who saw them when you’d gone into hospital that the tension that was sat on the both of them was both obvious and heartbreaking.

You could see the shadows under Luke’s eyes and you wondered if they traded the nights between each other to make sure they wouldn’t miss an update or a call.

You tried to squash down the guilt instant that reared up. They were doing this because they cared. There was nothing in it for them, apart from the possibility of you getting better. But you knew they expected nothing back.

Your eyes were tired and you took in the time. It was creeping closer to midnight so you closed off the stream and texted the chat to let them both know you were going to sleep. Had you stayed on the stream a few moments longer, you’d have seen Ashton’s face relax as a gentle smile crept onto his lips, causing the two that were still stateside to tease him.

The following morning was better in some way but also worse. Your cough wasn’t easing up but your fever seemed to have broken in the night.

You weren’t overheating but you weren’t cold either. You took a few moments to move your limbs and regretted it almost instantly. But you knew that if your fever stayed down, it would be a further week until you weren’t contagious.

Part of you wanted to practically sing in joy, but as you took in the early morning, you decided against that, knowing your men would be fast asleep still.

Slowly you got yourself up, collecting your shower stuff before making your way down the hallway to the shower. The warm water felt almost luxurious on your skin as you took care in washing your hair, still leaning against the cold tiles to keep yourself upright, your legs trembling as you did so.

It took the same amount of time as the previous shower, but once you were clean, you knew it made a small amount of difference as you stumbled back to your room, crawling under the covers to take a well deserved nap.

You missed the text from Luke asking if you were awake.

Now that you seemed to be stomaching food, Ashton kept it simple with dry toast, not willing to push your body too far. And you agreed with his judgement after he’d placed it in front of your door and you waited for the other door to close before you opened yours.

“Love you.” You felt your heart melt as he spoke through the door.

“Love you too Ash. Thank you.” You returned quietly before stepping back into your room. It was getting harder to stay in, especially when your cuddle monsters of boyfriends were just in the next room.

It hurt.

They FaceTimed with you to keep you company, both of them making a strong effort to not only keep you company but to also stop you from giving into temptation to just join them.

Ashton was practically insistent on that.

You knew by the time that you would be allowed to have them back in your room, their own self isolation would be over.

It didn’t fail to amuse you how Ashton started cooking once you started being able to stomach more than dry toast. It took a few goes but he kept it plain enough to not make your stomach complain but changed it up so you didn’t get bored of it.

What made it even better were the small notes of affection they left for you on the tray which held your food. You had them pinned up to your cork board without a second though, the small pieces of heaven from them only making it feel that much cosier.

Something to ward away the bad days in the future.

Luke snuck you some of your favourite snacks, even after the scolding Ashton gave him when he tried sneaking you a chocolate bar.

It’d made you giggle and they’d both paused to hear it.

It was a sound they hadn’t heard in nearly a month and it made their hearts soar.

Despite the pain you were in, it felt like you could at least breathe with the both of them with you. Even if you couldn’t see them.

By day nine after your fever had broken, you were beginning to feel semi human once more. You still had issues with exhaustion and light sensitivity, but you certainly felt more better than you had done in weeks.

Luke had given up on waiting.

“Ash, they said a week after the fever went down, they’d no longer be contagious. This is killing me.” You’d chosen to curl up on the side that was proclaimed as Luke’s side.

Your heart was feeling heavy again.

“I mean. We’re what? A week and a half?” Ashton’s voice was hesitant. You missed the mutter in return before the door opened and there was a knock on your door.

Luke stuck his head in and you wanted to cry.

“Reckon you can put up with some self care cuddles?” You simply nodded your head and shuffled into the middle of the bed. Luke wasted no time, his arms wrapped around you and you could feel every part of you seemingly shaking.

Ashton followed a few minutes later and your memory seemed to fail you in that moment. You could barely remember the last six weeks, but the feeling of comfort was something entirely different as they held you.

That was when you began to sob in earnest because you’d missed them. And they knew it.

When you’d calmed down, part of you felt torn because you wanted to hold them both, not let go and just lay there. But they didn’t protest when you’d snuggle up to one, legs tangled and arms wrapped around tight and eventually switch to the other.

If anything, it amused them both.

As the day got later, Ashton untangled himself, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Luke was your current cuddle buddy of choice.

Turning your head, your confusion must have shown because Ashton smiled gently.

“We need to keep up with the meals, love. I’m gonna make some soup for all of us, how does that sound?” You hummed in agreement.

“It’s allowed I guess. But you gotta come back.” And he chuckled, leaning over to kiss your forehead, doing the same to Luke before disappearing out of your room.

“You realise that he’s going to mother hen you to death, right?” Luke teased and you shrugged.

“He’s here. You both are. That’s more than enough for me.” You murmured softly. Luke held you that little bit tighter.

“You up for a shower sweetheart?” You hesitated, your mind drifting back to the previous two times you showered. The hesitation must have been obvious because Luke pressed a kiss to the top of your head, not willing to push you.

“Will you, will you help? It’ll be a tight fit but, I struggled the last two times.” You finally admitted to him and he smiled.

“C’mon. We can let the chef know as we pass him.” You giggled at his words, allowing him to help you out of the bed and making your way slowly across the room. Luke didn’t push, but he kept his arms available and easy for you to grab if you needed him.

You’d made it to the kitchen before you relied on him a bit more, your joints achy and your legs shaking.

“Gonna get this one showered and clean.” Luke called into the kitchen where Ashton was cooking. He glanced back and grinned at you both before turning back to the food and you two carried on.

Luke was nothing but patient with you as you climbed into the shower, his tall body fitting into the rest of the space. He was gentle as he helped you and it took the pressure off you, focusing on keeping yourself upright as his hands started working the shampoo into your hair.

You’d forgotten how well he massaged your scalp when washing your hair, and you only protested when he rinsed it out, making him laugh.

“I forgot how nice your head massages were.” You groaned as he worked the conditioner in. You carefully washed your body with the shower gel, cleaning Luke’s body whilst you were at it.

He tried to stop you but you gave him pleading eyes and he relented easily. Using the time whilst your hair was soaking in the conditioner to wash his own hair quickly whilst you cleaned his body.

And then his fingers were back in your hair, cleaning out the conditioner and you had to stop yourself from leaning into him.

Once you were clean and dried off, dressed and the towels over Luke’s shoulder, you could feel yourself begin to flag again, leaning heavily on Luke for the short trip back to your room.

“I’ve got you sweet.” He murmured as you passed the kitchen. Ashton was talking with one of your neighbours who gave you a small wave but didn’t stop you to talk. Part of you felt guilty, but the larger part felt relieved because you were almost certain once you’d eaten something, you were going to be asleep.

Once you were back in your bedroom, you scooted so that your back was resting against the headboard whilst Luke let the towels hang so that they could dry and put everything back in its place. He understood your need for everything in its own place, whilst Ashton understood, but still sometimes made a small game of moving things to see if you’d notice.

Luke could see that you were too tired to even be playful.

When Ashton returned, he frowned for a moment before resting the first bowl on your lap, spoon already in the bowl.

“Don’t worry about eating it all. Just try to eat something for us.” He encouraged gently, handing Luke his own bowl before heading back to retrieve his own.

You were slow and methodical before your stomach protested and you left the spoon in the bowl, your head resting on Luke’s shoulder.

“M’ready for sleep.” You muttered and he hummed in acknowledgement. He’d long since finished his bowl, as had Ashton.

“You alright with Ash for a bit, love? Since he cooked, I’ll clean.” Luke murmured and you just nodded before shuffling till you were laid down. Ashton followed and you snuggled into him.

You barely heard his murmured “sleep well” before you were fast asleep.

It was the first night that you’d slept for eight hours and it felt almost refreshing, especially after having the shower the previous night.

You were still nestled into Ashton’s side, Luke’s arm was slung over you both, his hand resting on Ashton’s stomach. You felt very safe between your men and you were so grateful that they were with you in that moment.

It was another hour before either of them stirred, but you’d been resting in that hour, not really awake but not asleep either. Luke was first to move, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he moved off the bed.

“Morning, love. How are you feeling today?” He murmured as he stretched. You shifted onto your back and gave an experimental test of your joints. They weren’t so bad and your cough had eased up that your chest no longer hurt if there was the occasional cough.

“Better, I think. It’s only a dull ache, the kind I get when you two put me through the paces at the gym.” You admitted softly and Luke grinned as Ashton stretched out, almost like a cat before turning on his side to face you.

“Nice to hear that, angel. And good morning.” You grinned at him and kissed him gently before glancing at the time.

“What are we doing today?” You asked quietly as Luke continued to stretch out his muscles. Part of you felt bad for them both to be stuck inside with you, but you were much too selfish to let that bad feeling linger.

“I’m gonna do some exercises and then Ash is probably gonna do his own. And then a movie day for the rest of the day?” He posed the question and you paused before nodding your head. It sounded good to you and it meant you had some individual time with each of them.

The morning passed by easily. They did their exercises and showered before returning to your room that Luke had playfully dubbed ‘The Den’. Ashton had laughed at that as he went to set up in the living room for another live, but this time Luke was staying with you. They’d been trading off which had bothered you first, but then Ashton explained their reason.

“We don’t really want to leave you alone. Not that you can’t take care of yourself,” he hastily added on upon seeing your look of outrage, “but being so far away whilst you were so ill, it kinda scared us. We don’t want to leave you by yourself yet. It’s more to ease our own anxieties.” And you relaxed before shoving any negative thoughts to the back of your mind.

Luke was napping when your phone went off-Ashton was still on the live-and you answered the No Caller ID hesitantly.

It was the hospital that you were at, a nurse confirming who you were before she’d go any further. It took a few moments before she got to the point of the phone call.

“So we’re calling you about the various tests. I’m assuming that you know you were confirmed with COVID-19, correct?”

“Yeah, about two days after the test, someone called to let me know.” You responded hesitantly. You wondered what this was about.

“And how are you feeling?” You were confused.

“I mean, I’m coming up to two weeks of no fever and starting to feel a lot better. I’m just more exhausted but I suspect that’s because of what my body went through.” You explained quietly and you heard her hum in agreement. Luke shifted beside you and you noticed that he was awake, only because his hand had started to drift up and down your spine.

“That’s good to hear. What I’m calling about is that you’d said your kidneys had been hurting upon admittance, correct?”

“Yes.” You were worried now.

“So when we looked at the numbers, we noticed that they’d started dropping. Not drastically enough for us to have you in intensive care, but that was why we moved you to the ward. It was as a precaution.” You felt your heart race at her words.

“They’d started failing again, hadn’t they?” You whispered and she sighed.

“Yes. However, because the numbers were back on the rise when we took your second blood test, we felt that we could discharge you safely. Had they dropped further, you’d have been admitted to intensive care. The only reason why you weren’t told immediately was because we didn’t want you to panic or go into further distress which could’ve made it much more worse.”

It hit you like a ton of bricks what she was saying.

“Is there anything I need to worry about?” You finally choked out, your hands trembling.

“At this time, no. When things ease up, we will request you get another test just to confirm you’re clear of the virus. Otherwise for now, just rest up and feel better soon.”

“Thank you.” You got out, ending the call. Luke took the phone from your trembling hands and he sat up, pulling you onto his lap, his arms around you.

“What happened, love?” You were trying to take in slow deep breaths to stop the panic attack, knowing that it wouldn’t help you.

“They’ve just told me, when I went into hospital, my kidneys were failing.” You whispered and his arms tightened around you tighten enough that he understood the implications.

You’d told them both of the previous two times when you’d been so ill that your kidneys had started failing and as a result you’d been on death's door.

You didn’t realise you were hyperventilating until Luke began to rub his hands up and down your arms to try and distract you, but your mind was too focused on the fact that you’d escaped death, again.

“Ashton!” Luke called loudly, a tinge of panic in his own voice.

Ashton practically crashed through into your door and his face was ashen as he took in your state, a look of relief followed by concern filling his features. He clambered onto the bed, his hands cupping your face gently. When you didn’t flinch away, he ducked his head to catch your eyes.

“Slow deep breaths sweetheart. We’ve got you.” It took you a while before you could finally focus on Luke’s hands which were still rubbing your arms gently.

“How’s your sense of smell?” Ashton teased as he noted that you were fighting to keep your breathing under control.

“Smell you and Luke, favourite smell.” You muttered and he grinned. You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch and he let his thumb brush across your cheeks in comfort.

“What happened?” Despite the question being directed at you, you knew that Ashton was also asking Luke.

“A nurse from the hospital phoned I think. They explained about the blood tests they’d run. Apparently their kidneys were failing when they’d gone in, but not enough to alarm the hospital staff or get them rushed to intensive care.” His voice was calm and you needed that.

You knew that Ashton understood what he wasn’t saying, but also you weren’t too sure if you could voice it properly without crying.

“Come here sweetheart.” Ashton’s tone brokered no arguments and you moved so that you were cradled in his lap, his back resting against the headboard. Luke was nestled as close as possible.

“Part of me knew something was wrong, but, not that.” You whispered finally. Ashton made a soothing sound as you let your head rest on his shoulder, face pressed into his neck.

“It’s one thing to guess, it’s another thing to be told, love. You’re allowed to cry because it’s a frightening thing to be told.” His voice was one of reason and you finally let it out, allowing them both to comfort you as you processed what had been said.

He wasn’t wrong. It was one thing to guess, but to be told that your kidneys had started failing once more, it was frightening.

Neither of them moved away from you as you got it off your chest. You couldn’t pin how long had passed until you finally took a steadying breath, lifting your head from Ashton’s neck. Luke was first to move, his thumb wiping the tear tracks and you gave him a weak smile.

It dawned on you then that Ashton had been on a live.

“Ash, I’m sorry.” You finally whispered and he gave you a confused look.

“What are you sorry for? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“The live you were doing...” You trailed off and he shrugged.

“They’ll get over it. You’re more important and we’re doing more radio interviews on the live so it doesn’t matter.” He muttered and you didn’t push, relaxing in his hold. Luke glanced at the clock and gave you a gentle smile.

“My turn to make lunch. Nothing cooked unfortunately, but I make a damn good sandwich.” He teased playfully which made you giggle, a sigh escaping your lips as he left after giving you both gentle kisses.

“Just think, tomorrow we can take you out for a short walk.”

“Freedom.” You muttered deadpan, making him laugh as his lips found yours.

“Even for half an hour, it’ll help. Home stretch now.” You mustered up a smile for him before stretching your legs out and he moved with you, his arms not quite leaving your body.

“Am I not allowed to lie down?” You queried and he shook his head, a playful grin on his lips as he pulled you flush against his body, his lips finding your neck.

“No, all mine to have and feast on.” The cackle like laugh that he let off had you giggling as he blew a raspberry on your skin. This earned a squeal from you, laughing as he rocked you back and forth. “No one can take you from me!”

You were still laughing when Luke returned with three plates, an amused grin on his lips as he raised an eyebrow.

“Save me Lu! Ash is gonna feast on me!” You shrieked again as he blew another raspberry into your neck, the ticklish sensation making you laugh as he held you tightly.

Luke set the plates down before climbing on the bed, his lips curving into a smirk, making you pause.

“Can I feast with you Ash?” And you groaned as Ashton laughed as Luke straddled the both of you, his body causing the three of you to fall back onto the bed, effectively trapping you between the two of them as Luke left gentle kisses along your neck and you held back your moan, knowing that if he started to pull at the skin you were a goner.

Pulling back, he had a cheeky grin on his lips and you groaned as Ashton laughed.

“You two are the worst. Let me eat, you monsters!” You cried out playfully, making them both laugh as Luke shifted himself off you to get the plates once more and Ashton loosened his hold on your waist.

The rest of the day passed quietly, Ashton had apologised for having to ditch and the three of you settled watching movies long into the early hours of the morning.

Despite the lack of sleep, you were still up early excited that you were finally allowed to go for a walk today, and both of them laughed at your excitement.

Once you were dressed, they followed your lead and got ready. And then you were out of the building and the fresh air felt glorious, even if there was a spattering of rain. You didn’t care.

You led them both to a small pathway that led to the river that ran through the town, the edge of the river filled with cherry blossom trees. Both of them were taking as many photos as they could and you couldn’t hide your smile if you tried.

Ashton managed to get a nice selfie of the three of you under one of the trees and before long, you realised that the half an hour had gone by and you were beginning to struggle, your legs becoming a little bit shaky.

But it didn’t deter from the fact that you’d been able to go out for a walk and enjoy it. Both Luke and Ashton could see the immediate difference.

“We’ll go out every day and stay an extra five minutes longer. Build you up. How does that sound?” Ashton asked as you walked up the driveway, arm in arm with the both of them.

“That sounds good. Onwards and upwards from here and I am so going to kick your butts at Mario Kart now.”

Their laughter rang around the empty drive as you reached the building and you felt much more positive with them by your sides.

if you wanna be added to my taglist just hmu!!

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zertzertzhang · 5 years ago

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Stand and Deliver: My Life Turned Upside Down

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr, so please bear with me! I am usually active on FFNet and AO3, but since this fandom is basically nonexistent except for here, I thought maybe I could post my works for this movie here. The story is a fanfic based on the 1988 movie ‘Stand and Deliver’ starring Edward James Olmos, and taking a deeper look into the lives of the impoverished students in East LA.

Eventual Angel/OC, and warnings of racial slurs with some physical violence.

Chapter One: Hellhole

The divorce shattered the Yang family to pieces. Vianne was no stranger to her mother’s scorn for her father, even at a young age. There were countless nights of screaming from Mrs. Yang, coupled with the frustrated curses her father threw in return. At one point, she was sure she heard plates crashing against the walls, but by the time she pumped up the courage to go check the next day, everything had been neatly restored. It was like the fight never took place.

Vianne was not stupid; the traces of her parent’s clashing were found in their silence. It was the harsh clatter of silverware against the bowls during dinner which reminded her that despite the calm nature of the family evenings, rage was just seconds from spilling onto the streets. Their house had just enough bearings to keep authorities from pounding the door on a weekly basis.

There wasn’t much left to solidify the hate between the spouses of the Yang household. By the time Vianne’s father suggested giving her a sibling to help bring her mother back, even she knew that it was a futile attempt to play house a little longer.

But to Vianne’s dismay, her mother agreed. Within months, blue paint littered around the spare bedroom in a massive heap, threatening to swallow the couple whole. Vianne didn’t react much when she realized a brother was coming her way, the increased shouting from Mrs. Yang frightened her as the due date neared. Her father would grumble incessantly about his wife’s mood swings and how that was what men got for marrying.

All of that was lost to Vianne; she was too young to comprehend full sentences, much less understand the hidden meaning behind her father’s statement. Maybe her brother would make her mother happy for once. She could envision her father playing with her in the fields as her mother and her brother sat on picnic mats to the side. They would be laughing just like how it used to be. Vianne wouldn’t have to stay awake, pressing her ears against the doors as more kitchenwares were broken. There would finally be peace...

Her mother’s eyes held the warmth of motherhood for no longer than a few seconds before the cold hollow overtook them again.

Peace never came. What happened in its stead was her brother screeching from his crib, all the while as her parents shrieked at one another over changing diapers. It made Vianne’s head split with thunderous agony. She never wanted to yell this badly, to make them just hug each other for once and stop talking. But such thoughts happened in her mind only. And before she knew it, they were back to throwing pots against the wall.

That lasted however long she remembered. Then came the papers, and she soon found herself holding baby Jack in her arms as her aunt ushered her into a stranger’s car. They said they would be taking care of them for a while. It dawned on Vianne that this was her first time meeting her mother’s family. There was no such thing as a happy reunion in this household.

She didn’t get to see her father after that, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to anyway. Not when the last thing she saw him doing was spitting onto her mother’s face as he tried to stop her from stepping out the door. No one knew that Vianne hid under the covers to cry herself to sleep once she settled in her new home.

And thus, Mrs. Yang became Ms. Lin once more. But for legal reasons, Vianne and Jack’s surname stayed. The minor details flew over her head; Vianne didn’t put much care on the subject. In the long run, the privilege to listen to the crickets chirp at night was enough to keep her satisfied.

That’s how things went for a while, with the emotional charge from her mother coming down for once in a long time. It wasn’t a surprise when Ms. Lin began going out all dolled up and pretty. The scent of her Saint Laurent eau de parfum clung to her skin as she whisked past the older Vianne. The girl felt a twist in her gut; she didn’t want to smell the hints of cologne her mother brought back after every weekend. However, she kept her mouth shut.

Ms. Lin didn’t hold back on her monetary needs. Thank god her salary as a lawyer cushioned their lifestyle. Despite being a single parent, her income had left a spacious room for extra spending. A shopping trip once a month was guaranteed, and that was when Vianne saw her mother at her very best. Talkative and cheery, Ms. Lin wasted no time in purchasing the latest trench-coats from Burberry as she gushed over how cute it looked on Vianne.

Something about her giggling mother put her at ease. The punching of the credit card’s number sent a rush of high in her blood, which only increased with Ms. Lin’s blabbering praise of how beautiful she looked in the mirror. She was well-fed and well-clothed; Vianne figured that there had to be a trade off somewhere. Not everything could be given, so she happily accepted the allowance. It was the closest she’d ever get to having her mother smother her in a crushing hug.

School was another topic. No doubt she was expected to do well in it; Vianne was sure her college expenses would be covered as well once she got to it. So she put the worry on that to the side as well. Her social life at school was decent, with her own clique of Asian Americans making up most of her friend group. It was genuinely a decent life for her, and for a moment, she thought this was going to be her forever.

Until it was news to her that her current school was going to be a thing of the past. Ms. Lin had become engaged to one of her former clients. Vianne was near her senior year of high school when her mother broke the news to her.

“Scott has a family of his own,” Ms. Lin explained. “His children are having a difficult time accepting us.”

Vianne lost her appetite and tossed her dinner down the dump. Her brain refused to tell her how to react, so her first response was denial. She wasn’t interested in a second dad or a second family, this was her happy medium. Besides, she still had Jack, so there wasn’t any long-term loneliness. Why was her mother complicating things?! What the hell?

“I don’t see how it’s our problem.” She tried to keep her voice cool, but the hint of frustration leaked nonetheless.

Her mother looked almost ashamed. Almost. “I’ll be moving in with Scott next week, Vianne. It’s to help his children get used to the new family members.”

The pause after the statement didn’t help the rising anxiety within Vianne. Her fingers clenched around the fork, digging the metal utensil into her soft skin so much that it stung. There was a catch to that announcement, she could feel it.

“What about me?” she asked. “What about Jack?”

Ms. Lin sucked in a breath, drumming her fingers on the mahogany table in a frenzy. And from experience, that only meant bad news. “Scott lives in the Bay Area. It’s too far away from Napa for me to come visit constantly if you stay. So I’ve decided to have you move back with your father.”

The world came undone from below and swallowed Vianne whole. Her mind was a blank sheet of paper, with no idea how to respond. It had been a decade of little to no contact with Mr. Yang, and the sudden contact with him was not going to lead to a happy talk over a cup of coffee. This was fucking ridiculous.

“You said you’d never let him see us again.” Her retort sounded irrelevant at worst, and petty at best. Not that this was going to change her mother’s engagement.

And sure enough, it wasn’t. Ms. Lin gave an exasperated sigh and pinched her nose. The shake of her head reminded Vianne of the way she would scold her when she was a child.

“Your father is doing better now. He’s…different,” her mother tried. “He’s simply not living in the best places out there. But that’s ok! You won’t stay there after graduation, and after you go to college, you’ll be coming back to Scott and me over breaks.”

Vianne could hear the blood in her ears bubbling like an overboiled teapot. “I don’t even know Scott that well, mom! How am I supposed to be his new family after you settle in?!”

The matriarch rolled her eyes at the scene, clearly not taking her daughter’s response well. “It’s a work in progress. I’ll make sure to bring them to you every once in a while to let them get comfortable. That’s why I’m moving in first.”

Her reasoning failed to get past Vianne’s anger, spurring her on. “So you’re just gonna dump us in LA with dad so you can live your comfy life?!”

That comment seemed to be the final nail onto the coffin, as Ms. Lin’s frown turned to a scowl in seconds. “I’m not dumping you anywhere, Vianne. It’s only going to be a year, and your allowance is staying the same! So stop being dramatic.”

Her mother’s cold gaze bore into her mind, freezing her in her tracks. It would serve both of them better if she conceded right there. Once her mother came to a decision, she was like an ox in the middle of a fight. There was no arguing out of this situation. The friends she had and the memories she made in Napa were now pipedreams wrapped up in a dusky alley. Her failure to even voice her opinions squeezed her lungs tight with perturbation.

The familiar pounding headache cursed her forehead, making her wince. Vianne had the sudden urge to smash plates just like her mother had done before. But she didn’t need a grounding on top of everything else, so she settled with pulling her lips back into a painful grin.

“What's the name of the school?” She expected her mother to answer that at least. Donning an air of nonchalance, Vianne tried to appear as unbothered as she could. The trembling of her hands were the only markers of betrayal. If Ms. Lin noticed her plight, then she took no interest in it. Her mother reached for a brown packet and tore it open.

A stack of papers slid out of the package, with the name ‘J.A. Garfield High School’ printed in bold fonts in the front page. It was her transfer letter.

Ms. Lin took a sip of her red wine before she continued her trail of thought. “I’ve given them your transcripts and coursework history already. You’ll be admitted in the second semester.”

“You’re really sending me to the ghetto.” Vianne felt the veins in her head pop. Quickly scouring through the papers, she came across her schedule. There was no AP Biology on the list, and there was definitely no AP BC Calculus on it either. In their places was a section marked as ‘Teaching Assistant’. And that was enough to send her ticking with rage.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” This time, she didn’t bother to hide her fury. “Why did they drop my classes?!”

Slamming the files down so hard that the china rattled, the young woman seethed as she stared her mother down. Ms. Lin wasn’t having any of it either, her fingers gripping the wine glass had turned pale with the increased pressure.

“The school doesn’t have AP courses, Vianne. They’re offering full credits for your two AP classes as compensation.”

The words that came out of her mother’s mouth stunned Vianne into silence. Graduation credits were worth nothing to her in college, this had to be some sick joke.

“What about my AP tests next year?” she hammered. “How am I supposed to take the tests without taking the classes?!” Her complaints were like flies buzzing around an agitated human. Ms. Lin simply waved them off without a second glance, as if her worries were nothing but unnecessary trivialities in life.

“You’re smart, sweetheart. You can study for them by yourself.” Her mother threw out the response like it was the obvious solution to her problem. “There’ll be more than enough spare time in your hands to bury yourself in books.”

Vianne quirked a brow. “Why?”

Ms. Lin actually smiled. But behind it were the vestiges of an arrogant smirk threatening to show itself to the surface. “Their coursework is basically non-existent. The catalogs are dated, and the materials are easy enough to be mistaken for a middle schooler’s level. You’ll have no trouble boosting your GPA up and acing your tests.”

If pride was a thing in her family, then it was going out the window. Vianne couldn’t believe her ears, nor could she stomach the sight of the letters. At this level, she might as well turn herself to a thirteen-year-old and go back to primary school. All her hard work was about to go up in flames because of that ghetto school. Hot tears rimmed along her eyes, sending her into a vortex of despair once more.

There wasn’t enough time to say goodbye to her friends; Kimberly’s birthday was in two weeks, and the whole group had a surprise beach trip planned out. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Mountains of projects she had been dedicated to simply poofed into air. Her hands clenched at the sides, doing their best to contain the urge to hit something.

The shifting of bodies alerted her of her mother’s departure from the living room; Ms. Lin was already up the stairs by the time Vianne shook herself back to reality. She looked over to the stove and was struck by the time it displayed on the counter. It was way too late into the early mornings.

“Your flights depart in two days.” The voice of her mother was drifting away into the distance. Their hollow vibrations from the hall sent her stomach dropping to the floor. “You should start packing soon, Vianne.”

That was the end of the conversation. It was made clear with the slam of Ms. Lin’s bedroom door, rattling its hinges. Neither of them were in the state to argue, and she knew it. Standing alone by the dining table, Vianne sniffled. Her nose was unbearably stuffy in addition to the increasing sting in her eyes.

She didn’t catch a wink of sleep that night.

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LAX was the definition of a madhouse. People shouted in all kinds of languages, deafening her ears and making Jack whimper on her side. Vianne held her brother close as she shoved their way through the gates of their section. The crowded mass on top of her migraine was slowly inching her towards a mental breakdown. After hauling off the last of her luggages from baggage claim, she ushered Jack to the main exit of the airport.

She knew she hadn't seen her father’s face in years, and the dreadful thought of not recognizing their only ticket out settled within her gut. Panic palpated in her heart as they came out of the building, with the sea of people not helping in the slightest.

Mr. Yang was next to unrecognizable when Vianne saw the massive sign with her name blaring in red. He looked different, much different than before. But then again, her seven-year-old perspective wasn’t all that trustworthy either. The face of her father hit her like a cold splash of water, and she found herself failing to greet him with the simplest ‘hello’. She merely stared at the balding man, unable to tear her eyes away from the beerbelly and narrowed eyes. Her father was a stranger to her, and it was then she realized that Jack had never even met their father.

Her brother scooted away from Mr. Yang when the man approached them, looking up to her with his teary gaze. Jack looked like he wanted to burst into a wailing fit. It was going to be a long ride back.

Heavy silence filled the car throughout the ride to her new home. Mr. Yang asked about her health and her school life, repeating the same questions he wrote to her weeks ago. Vianne kept the answers simple and precise, nodding and smiling to make it seem like she was engaged.

Jack, on the other hand, fidgeted endlessly in his seat in the back, looking anywhere but the front of the driver’s seat. The introduction between father and son was awkward to say the least. Vianne was just happy that they were now on their way to get the year over with. She clutched the phonebook in her pockets, memorizing all her friends’ numbers. It took her mind off things, if that was a positive note.

There could never be enough distractions for her, especially now that the three of them were stuck in the worst possible position. As if whatever deity in the heavens wanted to lay more unto the cruel joke, Vianne shook from her revere and noticed the selection of houses they were approaching.

Rundown and abandoned were the least of her worries. The neighborhood was like the cardboard cutout from a horror magazine. Desecrated with graffitis and empty beer cans, the streets were littered with grime and dust. It was obvious the town duster wasn’t a frequent worker there. And was that a person sitting on the roof of a car?!

Vianne’s eyes bulged as she squinted at the flailing man on top of a red Chevrolet. Men donned in tall hats paraded the city roads like they owned the place, causing a line of angry drivers honking at the ruckus. The pounding headache intensified at the sight, and she grumbled a string of curses to herself.

“Monterey Park is a lot better,” Mr. Yang spoke out of nowhere. “We’re gonna be away from these dirty shitbags.”

She flinched at the harsh edge of his voice, but didn’t say anything. By the crinkled lines between his brows and the frown on his lips, her father wasn’t in the mood for a good-natured chat. It was better that way, Vianne herself could feel her spirits waning with each mile.

The trio reached a small neighborhood in no time, and to her relief, it looked miles better than the houses she previously saw. The structures still retained the brittle fragility in appearance, but the paintings were even this time. And the lawns appeared to be taken cared of as well. Vianne felt the corners of her lip tug up in a hopeful smile.

But like any other good news, it was crushed to dust as soon as it presented itself. Her father didn’t use his keys to unlock the door. Instead, it swung open on its own accord, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and leopard-printed blouse. Vianne’s mind jumped to the worst possible scenario, jumping back a good distance. The young woman stared at the fresh face for what felt like a long time, before the coughing from Mr. Yang pulled her from the staring contest.

“Clara, they’re my children; Vianne and Jack.” Her father’s gruff voice held her to the ground. Gesturing to the women next, he continued to speak. “Vianne, Jack, this is Clara. She’s my girlfriend.”

Despite him being this close to the two women, Mr. Yang was oblivious to the scowl that now stretched across his daughter’s face. Vianne put two and two together and realized why her mother refused to share too much of her father’s living situation. There was no way in hell she would have agreed to come had she knew of this beforehand. Her living arrangements were fucked up to no end, and for a moment, she contemplated ringing her mother on the spot.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Clara didn’t move from her position. She gave the two newcomers a pitying look, but her lips turned up to a smirk. “I’ve heard a lot about y’all.”

Jack stared at Vianne, lips pouting in morbid curiosity. The older sibling sighed and rolled her eyes; she was getting worked up over nothing. They only had to stay here for another year till graduation, so she reckoned she would find a way to grin and bear it.

“There are rules to this household.” Her father wasted no time in listing the regulations under his roof. “You won’t be able to run amok like ya did with your mother here. First, Clara is to be respected at all times.”

Mr. Yang was blind to the seething glare Vianne threw him as she unpacked her bags across the room. It was one thing to be forced to live under these conditions, but it was a totally different thing to be mandated around by a stranger who she detested. A biting remark made its way to her tongue, but was cut short by his rambling speech.

“Curfew is 6 pm sharp. No loitering around the streets after the sun goes down,” he continued. “No boys are allowed, and there will be no parties here.”

No one, and she meant no one, told her when she got to come home. The last time her mother set her a curfew was in middle school. And it was definitely not at that time either. She wasn’t interested in dating anyone from this neighborhood, much less bringing a boy back home. Parties were out of the question, Vianne had already made up her mind that she was going to burrow herself for a year before she dipped.

“I’ll stay out as much as I want.” It was a crisp retort, and she turned up her nose. “My car will be here in a few days. I’ll be fine.”

Mr. Yang’s nose flared at the comment. His eyes darkened, reminding her of the way he used to look at her mother. She didn’t voice it, but the familiar shivers ran down her spine. Avoiding his gazem Vianne took a sudden interest in the rings on her fingers.

“This ain’t Napa County, Vianne.” Her father’s hand shook. “You’ll be down in the dirt in no time if you don’t adapt to the people here.”

She ignored his statement and pulled out her luggage of clothes. Everyone knew of the nature of the ghetto people there. That was the reason she brought her car. Whatever it was, Vianne wasn’t going to touch them with a ten-foot pole.

“Whatever,” she mumbled. Sensing her displeasure in the conversation, Mr. Yang grumbled something about women, before throwing a stack of notebooks onto her bed. Vianne glanced at them, but made no attempt to retrieve the papers.

“These are the course intros for tomorrow.” Her father was opening a can of beer as he eyed her. “You and Jack are waking up at 7. No negotiations.”

“Sure, sure.” There was no reason to get into a fight, and she thought it was wise to choose her battles. A curt nod was all she gave him, before she slipped past her father to go find Jack. There was still time to brood over her state of affairs.

Time always flew when you were either panicking or on cloud nine. That would be the second night of the week where she didn’t get to sleep. Her eyes trailed to the calendar; today was her first day of school.

A/N: Sorry for the slow start! Juicy drama picks up in the next chapter! Reviews, criticism, and comments are welcome :3

And here's a shoutout to @classic80sand90smovieloves2 for inspiring and helping me write this out!

#stand and deliver #angel guzman #80s movies #fanfic #angel guzman imagine #80s movie imagines #lou diamond phillips #jaime escalante #edward james olmos #stand and deliver headcanon #fanfiction

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chickensarentcheap · 5 years ago

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Future Tyler/Husband Tyler/Daddy Tyler. PART 1

Okay...so here it goes...

I’m working on a multichapter thing. It be won’t be a finished and polished product for a while and I’m writing it in chunks. It basically will flash back to the past, include the present (movie time line), and the future. I can’t guarantee he will always be happy Tyler and husband Tyler and daddy Tyler and his ending will be one percent rainbows and unicorns, but damn it, the guy deserves a good ending of some kind! He is too good to be taken out by that little shit!

So here is a stitch of my Tyler Rake universe. In the future. About a year following the events in Extraction. The OC does a have a name but I am not revealing it until I post present (movie line) chapters.

However, I do need your guys help!

I need suggestions for a baby girl name. First and second. That sounds really good with the last name Rake. I’m counting on y’all lol

Comment if you want. Message me too. I love meeting new people and chatting about fics and anything else your heart desires!

I hope you enjoy :)

Oh! And I said I would tag @c-a-v-a-l-r-y (who honestly really encouraged me to post and do happy husband/daddy Tyler) and @alievans007

It's been just shy of twelve months and his instincts are still keen; nerves rash and fresh, body and mind always on high alert. The proof to the old adage that old habits really do die hard.

A journey to the very brink of death. Weeks of lying in a hospital bed teetering on the threshold of this life and the next. Countless agonizing hours of rehab and physical therapy just to relearn the basics and get back onto his weary and battered feet. Once he was home nothing had been able to slow him down. He threw everything he had into healing. Every ounce of mind, body, and spirit. Pushing himself past the warnings and the limits that the doctors and specialists had set for him. Ignoring the advice on not to push himself too hard, too fast. He felt as if he didn't have a choice. He no longer just had himself to take care. But another human being with one on the way that needed him to take care of them. Provide for them. Protect them. So he had pushed himself to the brink of both exhaustion and physical and emotional collapse. Eventually finding himself back at at the gym and packing on the weight and muscle. Anxious for some semblance of the man he used to be.

He hears the soft rustle of blankets though the monitor on the nightstand and his eyes immediately snap open. Sleep was a strange beast for him these days; nights where he could fall into a peaceful slumber and stay there until sunlight was streaming through the window, others where the pain was all encompassing and nauseating and he couldn't get comfortable, and those where he was haunted by the demons of his past. The latter didn't come nearly as often as they did. He'd managed to find some hint of internal peace with the things he had done and witnessed. Once in a while he'd find himself back on that bridge. Assaulted by the smells of gun powder and lead. The acrid taste of blood on his lips. And he'd hear his voice and feel her hands; the way she cradled his face in them, the way she'd pulled his nearly lifeless body tight against her, feel those tears that feel on his skin. Thankfully he'd awaken and quickly discover that he was in the safety and comfort of his own home. His own bed. And he'd watch her as she slept; the way the moonlight painted her smooth skin in an ethereal glow, the slight smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. He'd watch her and listen to her breathe and he'd remind himself of just how far he had come. Gratitude spreading through him like a slow burning fire. Thankful for the second chance that he'd been given. For the love that he'd found during one of the darkest and most difficult periods of his life. She'd given him a reason. A purpose. And he wasn't going to take that for granted.

He groans as he rolls over onto his back. The pain isn't as bad tonight. There were times he could barely even move. Where the agony made him dizzy and nauseous and even the simplest of tasks seemed impossible to preform. Tonight it's a dull ache; a nagging pain that has settled deep into his bones and his joints but he has learned to deal with. Placing his hands behind his head, he waits and listens. The lights from the monitor dancing across the ceiling as life stirs in the room across the hall. He's gotten used to it; the little noises, the soft sighs, the slight fussing before she settles herself back to sleep. It wasn't his first rodeo after all; not his first foray into fatherhood. But it is the first time he's been able to be more hands on. Put his be all and end all into the nurturing. And this time he knows he will get it right. He's determined to make amends for the mistakes of his past. Moving on didn't mean forgetting. It didn't mean that the love and regret and the guilt weren't still there, lingering just under the surface. Sometimes the greatest homage to the dead was how the living continued. How they made up for the bad decisions they made and how those decisions had...in the end...helped shape them into a better person.

The sounds through the monitor continue and he sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and giving his body and brain time to adjust to full consciousness. Running his hands through his hair and over his tired face, fingers brushing against the various scars that serve as a lasting memory of his former life. A pair of sweats sit in a discarded pile by the bed and he reaches for them; softly muttering profanities at the various cracks and pops that his body makes at the simple task of pulling on his pants. Scar tissue, arthritis, remnants of shrapnel and bullets that couldn't safely be removed. All working together to be a complete pain in his ass. His wife moves behind him. Sighing loudly and contently as she rolls over onto her side. Not waking as her hand instinctively reaching out for him; finger tips brushing against his back just as he stands up.

He is out the door and in the hall before the first shrill cry erupts. Yawning and stretching noisily as he steps into the nursery. A cheerful room with soft yellow walls, pink, white, and purple stripped curtains and natural wood furniture. Teddy bears and dolls staring down at him from the perches on the shelves on the wall, accompanied by framed photos of baby animals and Disney characters. He'd never pictured himself a 'girl dad'; frilly dresses and the tiny socks with the lace around the ankles, and the little headbands that served no other purpose than being cute. He was rough and tumble. Always had been, even from an early age. So when he'd found out he was having a daughter he'd been terrified. He didn't know the first thing about taking care of little girls and doing their hair and healing their broken hearts. And for the first time in his life was actually scared of something. Or someone. A being that hadn't even been born yet but was already making a huge impact on his life.

“You'll be fine,” his wife had assured him when he'd expressed his concern. Watching from the couch as she stood at the kitchen table folding laundry. Including a newly purchased outfit and those tiny teeny socks that she had purchased just hours ago. She was so beautiful. Standing there with that chestnut hair tumbling down to her waist, her belly swollen with their child. HIS child. A child that had been conceived in the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty. “You've ridden this particular bike before,” she'd reminded him. “This isn't your first time going through this.”

“That was different. That was a boy. This is a girl. This is dresses and pig tails and tea parties and make up and other boys.”

“Tyler, that's years down the road. You can't worry about that stuff. Make up and boys? You can't dwell on what she's going to be like when she's a teenager.”

“I sure bloody well can. Because knowing my luck she'll end up just like her mother. Full of piss and vinegar and all kinds of trouble.”

“You always did know how to get yourself into heaps of it,” she'd smirked, and tossed a pair of balled up socks in his direction, just missing his head. “But you always managed to get yourself out of it too.”

“I knew you were trouble from the very second I met you, you know,” he'd said, as he got off the couch and wandered over to where she was so diligently working. Liking the way that simple white gold wedding band looked on her finger. He still hadn't gotten used to; it had only been a few months and even with that life growing in her belly, they were still very much enjoying being newlyweds. He liked it. Being a husband. He liked the simplicity and the comforts that came with the little things that took up their new life. Household chores and preparing meals and sharing a bed with the same warm body and beautiful face each and every day. Mundane to some. A welcome change and relief to him.

“I wasn't the one with the reputation for being difficult,” she'd reminded him. “I wasn't the one who was like a bear with a sole asshole even on his best days.”

“Yet here you are. Playing house with me. A good little wife. Giving me babies. So I must have done something right, huh?” he'd playfully nudged her with his elbow. “You stuck around. Through thick or thin. I put you through a lot of shit and agony and here you are. Here WE are.”

“You can't get rid of me that easily, Tyler Rake. You think you would have realized that by now.”

“Getting rid of you is the last thing I ever want.”

They'd stood in companionable silence; working quickly and efficiently together. Little boring tasks that they almost never got to experience. He'd never take things like that for granted again. And he'd grabbed a pair of her underwear from the fresh pile and hooking them around his finger, grinned as he swung them around.

“How'd we ever graduate to these, huh? These are not what I remember you wearing. You weren't wearing any the first time we...well...you know...”

“You're such a pig,” she'd grumbled, and tried to snatch them away. Frowning when he held them high above his head. Not an easy reach for a woman that only stood five foot three. “What is wrong with you? Seriously.”

“I thought you were trouble the second I met you. The way you shook my hand. The way you smiled at me. But I knew it for sure when I had you pinned against that wall and I put my hand down your shorts and realized that you weren't any underwear. Remember that? That first time? I knew I was in trouble but I didn't want to stop. I couldn't stop. I was surprised you were such a kinky little thing.”

“You've got issues. What is your major malfunction?”

“Nothing wrong with a little visit to the past. Especially when it involves being naked.”

“Would you stop?” she'd perched herself on her tip toes and frantically tried to grab the offending piece of clothing from his grasp. “What's gotten into you?”

“It's what hasn't gotten into you in a while,” he'd retorted, laughing when she'd directed a slap to his gut, his arms circling her waist when she'd lost her balance and tumbled into him. And they'd stood like that; her head against his chest, his eyes closed and his chin resting on the top of her head. Loving all those things about her that had become so familiar and comforting to him. The lingering scent of coconut shampoo that clung to her hair, the feel of her heart beating against him, those small and soft hands stroking up and down his back. This woman...the one that had seen him at his most fragile...who he owed his life to.

Her hands were on the back of his shoulders when she'd pulled away and looked up at him. Her eyes sparkling as she smiled. A smile he had once thought he'd never see again.

“I love you,” he'd told her. Three words that he had always hesitated on uttering before but now couldn't say enough. If Gaspar was still around he'd call him soft. Tell him he was whipped and a pussy and needed to get his balls back. But he wasn't around anymore.

A lot of people weren't.

“I know,” she'd said. “But not nearly as much as I love you.”

“Hey, this isn't a competition. And if it was, I'd win. I always do.”

“You have a very overinflated sense of yourself,” she'd chided.

He was her rock. He knew that. Even when he was still recovering and he was nothing more than a mere fraction of the man he once was. Even when she had to help nurse him back to health and he'd had to trust her completely with even the mundane things like feeding himself and brushing his teeth. But she'd stuck by him. Even when he felt humiliated that he even needed help with such things. Embarrassed that she was seeing him so vulnerable. Allowing her to see his tears of anger, frustration, and pain. She'd always said that he was the only one that made her feel safe and secure. Protected. Even when he wasn't at his best.

“Shit...” she'd grimaced when the baby had kicked her especially hard. Eyes closing and her forehead falling onto his chest.

“Even I felt that one,” he'd move one hand from her waist to her ever growing stomach. Marvelling at the way he could feel their baby...his baby...moving inside of her. It may not have been his first time. Not his first child. But he was determined to enjoy every second of it and not take a single moment for granted. “See what I mean? Trouble just like her mom. Feisty as all hell. A boy wouldn't cause this many issues.”

“Boys come with a whole shit load of issues. After all, it was a boy that got me into this situation in the first place.”

“Come on now, I wasn't the only one that was having all the fun. You seemed to be enjoying yourself too. I didn't make this baby all on my own, you know.”

“It was fun,” she'd admitted. “It always is.”

“Yeah. It most definitely is.”

One of her hands came down to rest on top of his and they stood there together, feeling their child moving inside of her. Marvelling at all the kicks and wriggles. At the miracle that they had created. All because two people fell in love during the entirely wrong time and in the entirely wrong place.

“You need to take it easy there, sweetheart,” he'd spoken to his daughter, his hand moving in slow, comforting circles. “Go easy on your mum, okay? Daddy's already put her through enough to last a lifetime.”

“She listens to you already. She likes your voice.”

“Already takes after her mother. Isn't that one of the first things you said you liked about me? My voice?”

“It does funny things to my insides. Even now.”

“I like doing funny things to your insides,” he'd dropped a kiss on the top of her head and she'd looked up at him once again.

“I think we should go to bed.”

“It's only eight thirty.”

“I don't mean to sleep. I mean to do other things. Fun things. Things that help you sleep better.”

A slow grin had spread across his face.

He didn't need to be told twice.

#Tyler Rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic

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quillyfied · 6 years ago

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Mega Good Omens Fic Rec Post 3

THE FINAL CHALLENGER APPROACHES.

This will hopefully be the last Mega Fic Rec Post I make for a long, long time; I have enjoyed it, but a lot of work goes into these and I’m tired. There are 73 titles on this list, organized by category: Jaunts through History/Canon, South Downs, Post-Apocalypse, Bus Ride/The Night Before/Heaven and Hell, AU/UA, Just Soft, Touch-Starved/Body Worship/Wings, Bonus, and H/C /Whump/BAMF. Please enjoy these treasures as I have.

Mentioned questionable material where appropriate; several authors have Tumblrs but I wasn’t able to tag them, for whatever reason. Oh well.

Mega GOmens Fic Rec Post MASTER

IF A LINK IS BROKEN OR I HAVE MISATTRIBUTED SOMETHING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

JAUNTS THROUGH HISTORY/CANON

1. let me feel your heartbeat (grow faster, faster) – @thehoyden (T, the one where Aziraphale had a big ole crush on Crowley before the Fall and it doesn’t stop from happening. This one’s just cute; starts with a “senpai notice me” vibe that morphs into mutual pining very, very quickly. It hits the high notes of a lot of cute romance tropes and I’m into it.)

2. Pride and Prejudice and Angels – SanSanFanFan (G, the one where Miss Crowley and Mr. Fell clash wits. Kinda. Mainly it’s a lot of lovely pining and Aziraphale being sad about awful things happening in London, so he’s escaping to Hampshire for a while, where Crowley happens to be in the middle of a temptation she promptly abandons in favor of lifting Aziraphale’s spirits. Not finished, but already sparkling with Crowley being miffed about gender double standards and Aziraphale letting himself be cheered up by Crowley. It’s great.)

3. Kissing, Accidentally – @skybound2 (G, the one where Crowley can’t help kissing Aziraphale after pinning him against the wall. Hilarious and sweet and featuring that best trope of all, Crowley going boneless and speechless at an unexpected show of affection and wanting from his angel.)

4. Visible world (or, you are responsible forever for what you have tamed) – @matchahedgehog (T, the one where Russian folklore plays a significant element and it’s weird and beautiful. I don’t think I can really convey what this is, exactly, but there are elements of building a new world and holding on tight to love even through the toughest times and it’s gorgeous.)

5. I’ve Been Drowning All These Years – @terrible-titles (T, the one where Crowley comforts Aziraphale five times and one time Aziraphale comforts Crowley. There are some discomfiting scenes Crowley is talking Aziraphale through in this one, but the comfort is sweet and the resolution is well-deserved.)

6. Moving Rocks – shiphitsthefan (T, the one where confessions are made in 1941 but they can’t act just yet, and waiting is agony. I really adore this one, especially what happens when they finally Smooch, because it happens in a spot I rarely see anyone putting it and it made me smile. The longing is so painful, poor Aziraphale. Poor Crowley.)

7. On a Wing and a Prayer – @alphacygni-8 (T, the one where Crowley is a pining mess but he has a plan. This is another trip through history of Crowley trying to go about his business while his feels are crushing him, but I think it’s how Crowley tries to go about confessing that helps make this one a standout; there is a restaurant and there is a lot of food and there are, of course, miscommunications aplenty. The historical scenes are nothing to sneeze at, either, they’re all packed with longing and bittersweetness. Lovely.)

8. in the shapes of angels – @qwanderer (T, the one where navigating an intimate and loving relationship of any stripe is difficult when your true form is a bit noncorporeal. This one crescendos in a form of angel-demon soul bonding that really reverberates and sticks in the brain, the visuals are incredible. And the implications of switching bodies gets a lot more high-stakes, too. On top of it all this is a story about finding someone to share your life with, whatever the arrangement of the relationship might actually be, and friends it’s tender and scary and wonderful.)

9. Pilgrim – brasspetal (T, the one where Crowley is on a sabbatical to sort out his feelings and he writes love letters, of a sort. This one is one of those fics that feels like treading in deep water knowing there’s something more in the depths, but it’s more tranquil and less unsettling. There’s an overstory about Crowley traveling with a group of humans and an undercurrent about him working through how he feels about Aziraphale and the two work together to bring about something memorable and, I feel, truly impactful. It’s entirely possible that by the time the last chapter is up, the story will be something completely different from what I’ve described, and that’s cool.)

10. drowned in living waters – @mortuarybees (G, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale make out in a field and almost get caught. This one is short and sad and made me feel sad things, though the imagery is gorgeous and the argument leading up to the kissing is entertaining. Stupid Gabriel and his stupid face.)

11. Things They Need – LostSoftSpaceDyke (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale take lovers as stepping-stones to get to each other. This one is bittersweet and FRAUGHT, friends, it is absolutely a heart-masher. The ending rights it, of course, and beautifully, but welcome to Hopeless Longing Town, friendos, population One Angel and One Demon.)

12. Off the record – @paintedvanilla (T, the one where Crowley reports his personal sins and then neglects to report his virtues. Bookverse, a wonderful character study of Crowley and Hell’s bureaucracy and how certain things affect Crowley personally. Includes a lovely homage to Freddie Mercury, of course.)

13. By Any Other Name – ausgezeichnet (@thebeatlesaremyboyband) (T, the one where Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis fake a wedding to get Thad Dowling off their backs. While it definitely has its funny moments, what stands out more to me in this one are the soft, quiet moments of pining sprinkled in between their adventures. There’s real strain between Crowley and Aziraphale with this turn of events, and I can’t wait to see it all boil over. Also Thaddeus Dowling is a dickbag in this one and is deffo getting his.)

14. God’s Gift – Katzedecimal (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale are undercover as a lady and her tire-woman while on a job. This one is based on one of the stories from The Akashic Records by PeniG (which y’all know I adore), specifically one where a potential 30K caper is laid out involving this exact scenario, and I love that someone actually tried to tackle some of it. The friendship is so good, and the little bit of excitement that happens in the plot is Terribly Exciting. Just ladies taking care of ladies, what could be better?)

15. All I Want (Is You) – amavyllis (G, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale don’t touch but that doesn’t mean they don’t want to. Oh, y’all, the longing. The LONGING. And the sheer ACHE of not being able to touch someone you would like to be physically close with. It is PAINFUL and it is GOOD and I am DYING.)

16. meantime i ask you to be my valentine (i’ll be your valentino) – hipsterchrist (T, the one that follows Saint Valentine’s Days through the ages. This one is really interesting, actually, and has one of the most eclectic collections of historical moments I’ve ever seen in one of these types of fics. That ending scene is on point, though; I spoil nothing but you guys TEARS. Of LAUGHTER. And also OVERWHELMED WITH EMOTION.)

SOUTH DOWNS

17. Let Me Live Here Ever – @moveslikebucky (T, the one where they’re soft and just talk about their feelings and smooch a lot. This one is part of a larger series but you don’t need to have read it to read this one. It is so very soft, y’all. So tender. I will never be over stories where they just lay in bed all day and revel in how they feel about each other and their life together.)

18. The Cottage, The Husbands – Dragonsquill (G, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale have a life in the South Downs and it is good. Featuring lots of cute little tableaus and some of the most fun OCs ever—Twelve in particular is a treat, she’s Crowley’s stylist and absolutely wonderful. The whole series is just FUN, it’s cute and casual and domestic and great.)

19. For All the Stars in Heaven – ausgezeichnet (@thebeatlesaremyboyband) (T, the one where Heaven and Hell need to shove off already. This one takes off almost without warning, and escalates rather quickly before a frankly genius solution to The Problem of Aziraphale and Crowley is found. I only deal in happy endings, so you KNOW it’s good for the husbands. Surprisingly good, in fact, I didn’t see it coming at all.)

20. Angel and Demon Teatime – @penig (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale entertain a few unwanted guests for a while. This one is really cool, with a lot of sensory details while Crowley and Aziraphale relive a lot of the sensations of Earth and bring them into the physical world for the spies Heaven and Hell sent after them to experience them, too. The spies are both precious, though in completely different ways, and the ways they go about changing through this visit are subtle but profound.)

21. The Tales of Eden Cottage – Jupiter_Ash (G, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale slowly settle into their new South Downs community. This one has a lot of fun OCs and some extremely touching stories (the one about Joshua in particular broke my heart in all the best ways). Their neighbors are a lot of fun and the fic in particular that has a facebook chat of their speculations on who the new guys moving into Eden Cottage are is fantastic.)

22. A Brand New Angle – @fallsouthwinter (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale pick a direction and gun it. Has first kisses, dancing, delightful neighbors, gardening—all the best ingredients for a heartwarming, satisfying South Downs romp. And this definitely is one—with some promising things to come, judging by the standalone in the same universe!)

23. A Safe Place for You – Vagabond (@waffleironbiddingwar) (M, the one where learning to receive love is a little bit harder lesson to take in than giving love. M for a humanly intimate scene that borders but does not cross into full smut, and an ethereally intimate scene that is weird and pretty. This whole thing is achingly poignant and heavy; every word drips with emotion and it’s both difficult and sweet, much like the subject matter, I suppose. A memorable and beautiful piece.)

24. Act of Service – @dietraumerei (T, the one where people think Aziraphale is Crowley’s sugar daddy. This one starts off hilarious and then slam-dunks itself right into the Feels Pile, with a side-helping of discussing dynamics and reaching acceptance. An instant classic and one I’ve definitely read more than a few times.)

POST-APOCALYPSE

25. Thou Knowest Us Happy – @mirrorleaf (T, the one where Gabriel gets the truth shoved directly into his face. This is a fic of a fic (the original I have not read bc it’s rated E and I can’t do that for personal reasons), and while this fic references its source quite a bit, it’s not confusing enough for the fic itself to be off-putting. In fact, it’s a gorgeous one-two punch to the throat: first, the Banishing of the Archangel Gabriel, which is INCREDIBLY satisfying; second, the Making Sense of It All, where Aziraphale and Crowley realize they’re truly free and start to explore the various contexts of their relationship, past and future, which is very sweet. A delectable little treat, all told.)

26. Courage – @mandysimo13 (G, the one that’s a good old-fashioned post-apocalypse love confession. There’s a cute little characterization of Courage woven throughout, because of course Crowley personifies the emotions he is or isn’t dealing with, but on the whole it’s adorable and intimate and cute.)

27. when the earth is trembling – @stammiviktor (T, the one where Crowley takes Aziraphale on an amazing date. Listen, I adore stories where Crowley falls to pieces under the weight of his love as much as the next dork, but Crowley delivering? Crowley being, if not confident, then at least secure in the choices he’s making? Crowley showing his angel a good time because he knows what his angel likes? SIGN ME UP, FAM. Especially if we still get Crowley coming a little undone at his attentions paying off in a hoped-for but still unexpected way (to him, anyway).)

28. Little Terrors – @runwiththisdinosaur (T, the one where Aziraphale is being more affectionate and Crowley is one hand-touch away from an aneurism. This one doesn’t pull away from Crowley’s all-consuming fear of Aziraphale Falling for loving him, and captures the messy feelings and hurt and heartbreak and healing these two getting their act together demands. Also Indian food.)

29. Forgiveness – @guanin (G, the one where Aziraphale has a well-deserved breakdown after Armageddon’t. This one is super-duper cathartic and has Aziraphale working through all of his hurt feelings and confusion over Heaven and how they treated him, and how he subsequently treated Crowley. Featuring a very patient Crowley and a very weepy Aziraphale and a lot of wondering about fate and choice.)

30. Of burnt books and courting Crowley – robynvite (T, the one where Aziraphale accidentally finds out Crowley’s in love with him and then sets out to properly woo him. I love fics where Aziraphale finally takes the initiative, and he does so with gusto. Anathema serves as a great sounding board and go-between for these lovestruck idiots, and Crowley not knowing how to handle Aziraphale being flirty is the best thing. Also, Aziraphale finds out they burned the second Agnes Nutter book and has an angelic come-apart.)

31. that I may hear my heart fall from your lips – song_of_fate (NR, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale get to be themselves at last. Y’all like awkward but shyly happy getting-together fics? Y’all like Greek vacations? Y’all like Anathema being a bro and Crowley being casual and Aziraphale being absolutely taken with him? You’ve found your fic, folks, and it’s not even finished yet. More softness to come!)

BUS RIDE/NIGHT BEFORE/HEAVEN AND HELL

32. please please please let me get what I want this time – @sarahbacou (NR, the one where Crowley is extremely tired and Aziraphale muses on their situation. The tone of this one is mournful and apprehensive, but ultimately tender as Aziraphale cares for an exhausted-to-the-point-of-delirium Crowley on the bus ride home. The scene after they get off the bus is just straight-up heartbreaking, there are no other words for it, but it ends hopeful, especially knowing what we know about canon.)

33. Ethereal Love – @mariannightroad (G, the one where trying to teach Aziraphale to sleep morphs into something a little bit more. The purest and sweetest of romances, the most sexless making love of all time (even for weird angel essence-touching, it’s pretty devoid of lust), and just really really Soft u guys.)

34. Long Night’s Journey Into Day – @whatawriterwields (T, the one where Aziraphale keeps watch through the night. This one is adorable and very tender, with a terrible nightmare and an amusing adventure involving remote tea-making and FEELINGS. Aziraphale loves Crowley so much.)

35. Maybe Tomorrow Will Be a Better Day (If You Let Me Look at Your Beautiful Eyes) – TheWinterSldier (T, the one where Aziraphale ponders about Crowley’s eyes while wearing his body. There’s some historical jumping but the majority of the story is focused on retelling Crowley’s trial from Aziraphale’s head, and the meal at the Ritz afterwards. There are a lot of emotions about Crowley’s eyes. Ironically, there were also a lot of emotions about my eyes. Or, rather, in my eyes. Just overflowing with feels.)

AU/UA

36. Hard Times – @northeasternwind (G, the one that’s the bandstand scene in the context of Speremint’s Reverse Omens AU. I love the characterizations of Anthony and Azirafell so much in this particular AU, and the building tension and sudden breaking of the dam at the end is exquisitely done.)

37. Rosemary and Sage – AJissoverytired (T, the one that’s based on the witch AU by masao-micchi and is PRECIOUS. Crowley is the Red Witch, a very famous and talented mage, who accidentally gets turned into a snake by a rival and winds up being found by Aziraphale, a mage-in-training who’s starstruck by the Red Witch. They strike up a familiar contract, with Crowley conveniently not letting Aziraphale know who he actually is, and enter the Completely Ridiculous Comedy of a pseudo-love square. The world is vibrant and fun, characterization is spot-on, and it’s so funny and sweet I’m dying. Worth the read 4000%.)

38. Only Love (Can Bring the Rain) – @soft-october-night (T, the fairy tale-ish AU featuring a sweet prince and his handsome gardener boy. Y’all. Y’ALL. Pining and childhood friends-to-lovers and class struggles and vegetable-growing contests and subterfuge, oH MY. The flavor of this one is Very Very Good, absolutely a gem.)

39. Running in the Shadows (Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies) – @soft-october-night (M, the one that’s vaguely a Persuasion AU but is mostly a messy, emotional romance shoved into Regency decency. M for mentions of sexual activity that would most certainly overwhelm the sensibilities of a more delicate readership, but it’s not bad at all for a modern reader. I think soft_october might just own my soul, because HOT DANG, that is two AUs in a row that are scratching my itches in the best ways. The LONGING. The EMOTIONAL TURMOIL. The MASQUE BALL. The CLASS STRUGGLES. I have read it twice already and will definitely be coming back to it a lot, because there’s lots of meat on this here bone. Adam Young and Crowley’s relationship in particular is touching, and Crowley’s friendship with Anathema is top-notch.)

40. I have loved you (for a thousand years) – @asideofourown (T, the one where they’ve been dating the whole time but SOMEONE missed the memo. Classic miscommunication at its finest; Crowley’s chapter is painful enough with his pining and heartsick longing, but Aziraphale’s chapter knocks it out of the park with his perspective of actually being in a relationship with Crowley and the various misinterpretations that’s caused. They’re so stupid and I love them.)

41. Gravity – Emmbee_89 (T, the one where Crowley was Raphael and he and Aziraphale had (and have) a love so powerful Aziraphale created Time and they couldn’t be separated even after the Fall. Oh sweet Jebus and all his little elves, the tenderness and powerful heartbreak this one causes gave me actual physical pains. Bittersweet and lovely. I am so proud of them.)

42. The Love You Leave Behind – @gloriouscacophany (T, the one that’s a 1980s college AU where Aziraphale is studying abroad and Crowley is the singer of a rock band. This one is UNBELIEVABLY gorgeous. Listen, I don’t usually go in for human AUs, but this one caught me, hook, line, and sinker. The sensory details are lush (especially when Aziraphale is noticing Crowley, hoo boy) and the story has some built-in heartbreak that’s already paying off (hello, homophobia), but despite the incoming pain and torment, I have full faith and expectation of a great ride along the way. Truly spectacular.)

43. Pray For Us, Icarus – @seaskystone (G and T, the series where Crowley keeps reincarnating as a human and Aziraphale loves him. Listen, I know 90% of you already know this masterpiece, but for the 10% who don’t, this series will heck you up one side and down the other. It will drown you in sorrow so that the good moments are sweeter than air. It is so intense, so emotionally raw, so dadgum TENDER, I had no idea what to do with myself after I finished it. Like a cheese grater on a sunburn when it’s bad, like hot chocolate on a bitter cold day when it’s good. A fandom staple for sure, cathartic and satisfying as only successful recovery after a long, hard, difficult event can be.)

44. Magnesium and Oil – @quaidpoppinjack (T, the one that’s a monster hunter AU. The great thing about fandom is that sometimes people will make AUs you would never have thought of, but once you know of it, you need it desperately. In this one, instead of tempting and thwarting, Crowley and Aziraphale are tasked with gathering the escaped creatures of Eden and sending them either to Hell or Heaven to stock for the impending War. The worldbuilding is AMAZING, the little details are great (for those of you wanting Crowley in hunting leathers, welcome to the party), and the story itself is just good, okay. Great action, lovely plot.)

45. alpha centauri – @hyruling (T, the one where Aziraphale agrees to run away to Alpha Centauri during the Apocalypse. To my understanding, this work was previously deleted by the author, but I’m so glad it was brought back so I could read it, because two very scared, very piney idiots carving out a domestic life on a barren planet WITH A CAT is the jam I didn’t know I had. Watching them circle each other is great; watching it all come tumbling down when Plot happens is even better. It’s a happy ending, don’t get it twisted, but you always have to wade through the Bad before you get to the Good, after all. A lovely little piece, absolutely A+++.)

46. Truth Untold – GenericUsername01 (G and T, the series where Crowley was Raphael, Aziraphale was made to be his assistant, and holy crap on a STICK where to even start. The worldbuilding is INSANE, I love how the Archangels are described and go about their business (word to the wise, do NOT skip the prologue work, you miss all of the best context if you do). And if that’s not great enough, there’s a whole system of angel-devil nemesis pairs all over Earth, whom we get to meet when devils start wanting to repent. There’s baptism involved and it’s horrifying and heartbreaking. Not finished yet, but it’s ramping up. Also, Crowley is functionally blind, which is about to start causing some real humorous problems since no one else knows about it, certainly not Aziraphale.)

47. Take me to the room where the red’s all red (take me out of my head, that’s what I said) – @raiining (M, the one that’s a Dom/sub AU with gentle top Aziraphale and bottom Crowley. No real sexual elements in this one, but I can understand why the M is there, the subject matter might be a little Much for some people even if it is fairly chaste (if sensual). The dynamic between Crowley and Aziraphale is delicious af, especially when they’re snapping at each other and then later melting into each other. It’s just. So good.)

48. Take This Sinking Boat and Point it Home – sobakasu, sssnakelady (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale used to be the same being, and the combination of fundamental incompletion compounding with being in love is tearing Crowley apart at the seams. Darkly emotional and absolutely raw with feeling, quiet and powerful and subtle. Crowley is absolutely heartbreaking, but Aziraphale manages to bind it all up quite nicely—not perfectly, they’ll have to work at it, but sweetly and with perfect love.)

JUST SOFT

49. Three Unthwarted Wiles – @almaasi (G, the one where Aziraphale lets Crowley get away with a few things. Oh my heaven it’s so SOFT, I know that’s the point of this section but HRRGK. Crowley does so much for Aziraphale and Aziraphale returns the favor as often as he can and they just love each other so much I’m sobbing.)

50. The Original Bar Joke – @deathbycoldopen (T, the one where Crowley sees himself as the punch line in God’s big ineffable joke. Sad until finally it isn’t, but Crowley spilling the beans via joke-that-turns-into-scathing-self-reproach is a unique flavor I wasn’t expecting and it broke my heart. Absolutely wonderful.)

51. Love Stories – @just-quintessentially-me (G, the one where Aziraphale is the maudlin sad drunk. Guys, I’ll be real, the emotional payoff of this fic is sweet, but the real highlight for me is Aziraphale scolding a fire he accidentally sets, because nothing feels so Aziraphale as him being drunk off his wings and attempting to LECTURE a FIRE. Also Crowley’s reaction to Aziraphale setting a fire in the bookshop is…well, about how you’d expect. A fantastic little number I quite enjoy.)

52. no mind to lose – @saints-and-demons-preserve-us (T, the one where Aziraphale goes fast and Crowley is a mess. Starts with an ode to Crowley’s long hair, as it rightly should, and evolves into a rather adorable start-stop where Aziraphale engages in various touching activities and Crowley is doing his level best, bless him, to catch up and remember how limbs and lungs work. Precious.)

53. Alas, Poor Yorick! This Is Gonna Suck! – WhiteQueenWrites (T, the one where Crowley finds his perfect opportunity while teaching a theater class to the Them. Yes, it’s canon!verse, not an AU. Yes, Crowley and Aziraphale kiss while teaching Romeo and Juliet. Yes, it is exactly as adorable and tween-traumatizing as you would expect. It’s very fun!)

54. Divine Intervention (aka God Ships It) – @theladyzephyr (G, the one where God has had it up to HERE with two idiots stuck in denial. Oh, folks. This fic is a TEASE. This fic is TANTALIZING. This fic is INFURIATING. And it is so, so worth its weight in gold, because the moment of triumph is so unspeakably sweet. It’s so good, y’all. So good.)

55. Learning to Speak the Language of Flowers – @junkshop-disco (M, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale are orbiting closer. M for discussions of trauma, I think. I’m not sure if I have the words for this one but I’ll try anyway. It shifts between the night the world didn’t end and the events after, and the time Crowley and Aziraphale spent in the Dowling household, and the transitions between the two are so smooth sometimes it’s hard to catch which time period you’re in. The writing is emotive and beautiful, and the emotional impetus behind the fic is compelling. Highly, highly recommended.)

56. seasons, changes – @whatawriterwields (G, the one that cycles through four seasons of Crowley and Aziraphale’s new life in love. Gorgeous and descriptive and so sensory—it really captures a lot of the best parts of each season. And also it’s incredibly loving and I die.)

57. waking up to you – @whatawriterwields (G, the series that’s a collection of tender morning moments. Listen, this writer is the MASTER of tender fluff, and this series is overwhelming. I have had to physically clutch at my heart and wail at my ceiling because of how cute everything is. If you need a dose of fluff after reading something angsty, here’s your medicine.)

58. Nemo dat quod non habet – @liquidlyrium (T and M, the series that examines the aftermath of the trials in Heaven and Hell, and Crowley and Aziraphale have an actual conversation. M rating is just to be safe bc the makeouts can be intense, but it’s not bad. The stories are basically revolving around the same conversation from two different points; Aziraphale’s bit goes more into the kissy-kissy afterwards. Powerful and raw, but understated; there’s dignity in this series, and a good bit of playfulness. The writing carries itself exceptionally well.)

59. Where to Start – @freyjawriter24 (T, the one where Crowley’s almost kissed Aziraphale plenty of times through history. Oh, y’all. Crowley’s emotions are laid so bare. The longing is so good. The scenes are all pretty original and interesting, and you can get a good sense for what Aziraphale’s feeling in these moments, too. Top-notch.)

TOUCH-STARVED/BODY WORSHIP/WINGS

60. The Power of Touch – @wordsintimeandspace (T, the one where Crowley needs some tending to and Aziraphale is more than happy to do it. It’s lots of kissing and touching and it gets intense but not too sexual. Also some lovely communication and boundary negotiation and it’s great.)

61. show a little skin (baby I’m begging) – @summerofspock (T, the one where Crowley can barely handle seeing Aziraphale flash a little skin now and then. Oh, y’all, it’s so much fun. Crowley is in over his head, someone please help him. Ankles, collarbones, FOREARMS. Oh lawd.)

62. You’re the Only Prayer I Need – @kedreeva (G, the one where Crowley’s shedding and Aziraphale helps. Featuring an absurdly large bathtub, wing bathing, and finally the peeling of snakeskin, which sounds so intensely satisfying, tbh. Simple, companionable, and nice.)

63. Of Firsts and Foremosts – @kedreeva (T, the one where Crawly finds Aziraphale cornered by Ligur and steps in. This one has really interesting bits of lore stuffed into it and a sweetly cautious blooming camaraderie between Crawly and Aziraphale; on top of that, there’s cuddling and wing care and both are extremely good.)

64. At Least Eleven Second First Times – @enjambament (M, the one where Aziraphale has to get used to being on Earth in a body again. M for risqué elements that brush up against smut without crossing over. This one is all about feeling things, from emotional to physical sensations, and how Aziraphale is overwhelmed by it all, but there’s also bits of the inherent diversity of the world and the significance of being able to feel things and on top of being secondhand-overstimulated, it drops you directly into Feels Town and it’s delicious.)

BONUS

65. a snake by any other name – @asideofourown (G, the one where Crowley’s snake form is spotted by a herpetology student and an unlikely companionship is struck. This one is from the view of an OC and is really cute, involving Crowley growing fond of a human with proper appreciation for serpentine charms. Also the OC and her girlfriend have a fun argument about what Crowley actually is and it’s adorable.)

66. Always Trust a Dog’s Judge in Character – notebooksandlaptops (T, the one where Warlock moves back to his London home and starts building a life. This one is so good, y’all; adult (ish, he’s nineteen) Warlock is such a delight and you can see Nanny Ashtoreth’s influence all over him. It’s even better when he meets Adam and forms the biggest crush known to man (good thing it’s reciprocated, that would have been awkward), and befriends the rest of the Them (Pepper in particular is to be feared and respected). A fic about growing up and finding yourself, and I love where it’s going.)

H/C /WHUMP/BAMF

67. In Peace I Will Both Lie Down and Sleep – @fizzybiscuits (G, the one where Aziraphale is having nightmares. This fic feels so organic—like a logical continuation of the show, or at least one of many directions it could take. Aziraphale having vivid bad dreams and NOT TALKING ABOUT IT is so on-brand, and Crowley getting worried out of his gourd is also on-brand. Vulnerable and sweet and soft, once the nightmares are dealt with.)

68. A Touch Like Sunlight – @just-quintessentially-me (T, the one where Crowley acts the hero like an idiot. This is Crowley’s vengeance against the Archangels and it’s heart-pounding; of course stuff goes off the rails pretty quickly, but even the stuff that goes right has tension in it. A great adventure, with an appearance from BAMF!Aziraphale.)

69. Chokecherry – unsmilingchuck (T, the one where Crowley helps clean up Aziraphale’s hands after a frankly awful punishment from Heaven. This fic feels calm, maybe more so when it’s revealed what it’s in the aftermath of, and Crowley is very methodical and meticulous in his care. It’s clear how much they care about each other and that’s always the jam.)

70. Thus saith the Lord – @themanicmagician (T, the one where angels can be drafted into Her service like a hive mind. Oh, folks, you want historical pain? You want emotional torment? You want a thrilling chase and a tender aftercare and a triumphant victory? You want to be in your friend’s house and hear the Plagues song from Prince of Egypt and almost have a complete breakdown bc you’re reliving this fic? Then join me in singing this one’s praises, because it delivers. It does not let up even for a second, once it gets going. This is probably one of the darkest fics I’ve ever read, but the ending balances it out. It’s great.)

71. In Somnis Veritas – PinkPenguinParade (T, the one where Aziraphale volunteers to help Crowley with his nightmares. Oh, y’all. Y’all, this one is so good. Just two immortal beings, working through their various traumas together. There’s pain and healing and a beautiful, beautiful ending. This fic hits all the right notes, it’s splendid.)

72. Incongruous States of Being – @zehwulf (T, the one where Aziraphale is a BAMF and that was never truly up for debate. Featuring an argument meant mostly for fun, and then a fight meant mostly for not-fun. Protective Aziraphale through the roof, gang. Very, very good. The tension is exquisite, and the characterizations are perfection. A wonderful take on Aziraphale and his abilities.)

73. Aim Your Arrow At The Sky – @trellanyx (T, the one where Aziraphale is a warrior and don’t you forget it. Warnings for some pretty graphic violence. This fic is not epic-length but it is epic-scope; it’s downright cinematic. The details are so crisp and the action so well-described, and threaded through it all is fierce, tender, desperate love. A wonderful read, especially if you want to see two particular Archangels get theirs.)

#good omens #good omens fic recs #mega gomens fic rec list #and now i sleep for a week #found a lot of these during a week i was off of work #gosh i read SO MUCH that week #i am DONE reccing fic in this format for a while #fulfilling but exhausting u kno

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