#AND THEN i check the tag daily and there is hardly ever anything new

[huskersbooze]

Who's in Control?

Alastor x Reader

| Part 1(here!) | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Summary : You sold your soul to Alastor and had no idea how big of a deal this was. Until recently, you finally learn what it means, and realize all that Alastor had been doing was just a lie.. or was it?

Pairing : Alastor x F!Reader, Huskerdust? (M!Reader here, Gn!Reader here)

Warnings : swear words

Additional Tags : Angst, miscommunication, misunderstandings, Alastor actually being nice?!, no use of (Y/n)

Ib : Who's in Control By Set It Off

Word count : 1.8k

"Good morning, dear."

"Morning, Al." You reach the lobby and take a seat on the floor next to Alastor's chair.

"How was your sleep, darling?"

"It was good! And yours?"

"Aha, hilarious, really. You know I don't sleep, my dear." He places a hand on your head and gives your hair a ruffle. "You really do know how to brighten my day."

The rest of the team reaches the lobby, and you all gather around for your daily dose of trust exercises.

-----

You and Alastor had been growing closer and closer ever since your arrival at the hotel. There was no doubt that he was your favourite person there.

And, well, for Alastor, he never wanted to admit it, but everyone in the hotel could tell, and even he was aware.

He was growing a soft-spot for you.

It was never supposed to be this way. He was never meant to grow attached. It just somehow happened, and that was that.

Everything between you two was going great. Except for that one little issue that bothered Alastor.. but you didn’t have to know. He never tried to abuse any of that power when he asked for your soul. He never thought of doing anything to you.

But there comes a time in every relationship where a lie can ruin it all.

“Hey, sugar. How ya’ doin’?” Angel Dust leans by the bar counter, greeting you as usual.

“I'm doing decent. Husk and I were just talking about you.”

“We were fuckin’ not!” You watch as the cat's ears twitch, the drink he was originally pouring tipping over.

“Oh, really? No need ta’ lie Husky~” You laugh at Angel's teasing, which makes Husk let out a low growl. “At least I don't gawk over a certain demon so obviously.”

“Hey! Are you talking about me and Al?”

“Who else would he be talkin’ about?” Angel tilts his head to the side, giving you a knowing glare. “Ya’ can't even deny it.”

“Al and I are just friends.”

“Kid, Angel's right.” The cat can only do so much but sigh. “You don't know him as well as I do. He treats you differently.”

“Still, we're just friends-”

“The Radio Demon doesn't do ‘friends’, kid.”

“Yeah, well, he owns my soul. Of course he'd treat me differently.”

The way it so simply came out of your mouth like it wasn't some big deal. Both Husker and Angel Dust froze in place, staring at you wide-eyed.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“What.. what did you just say?” The spider can hardly comprehend the news you'd just dropped.

“He owns my soul..?”

“Kid. What the actual fuck?!”

“What the fuck did he do to you?! Ya’ alright?! Are you hurt?”

You watch as the two demons skim your body up and down, firing questions at you, checking up to make sure you weren't hurt.

But you were confused.

“What's going on? Why are you guys suddenly acting so strange?”

“Wh- Why did you sell ya’ soul to him?!”

“Fuck I knew he was up to no good!”

“He told me by selling my soul to him he'd protect me from everything and anything at all cost. I didn't see a reason to decline?” You reply to Angel's question, ignoring Husk as he mutters about himself being correct. “I got nothing to lose.”

“Ya’ got everything to lose, shitass.” You hear his voice start to crack slightly as you realise tears welling up in his eyes.

“Angel?! Hey, what's wrong?”

“Damn, kid. You really don't know shit, huh?”

“About..?”

“What it means to sell your soul.”

“I know what it means, Al said-”

“Forget that fucker.” Husk practically spits out his name. “D'you know why I work here at the bar?”

“Because you like your job..?”

“No. It’s because I was forced by the person I sold my soul to.”

“Who..?”

“Hell, kid.. you really can't take a hint?”

And just like that, he says one more name, and your whole world comes tumbling down on you.

He didn't actually care for you, he was just shaping you in case you came to use.

He didn't actually enjoy your company, he was just watching you to make sure you were obedient.

He didn't actually mean any of the things he said. He was just trying to manipulate you.

And you were so damn lost. So damn lost as to whether the control and power you thought you had, really belonged to you.

“Valentino is an overlord.. and he's your boss?”

“Yup.” Angel nods.

“And he owns your soul like Al owns Husk’s?”

“Exactly.” Husk replies.

“And there's no escaping this contract..?”

“No.” The two reply together.

“Fuck.”

-----

“Greetings, my dear! How are you on this fine morning?” The static sounds from Alastor's usual seat at the lobby where you all gather every morning.

There's that usual smile etched on his face, which, you used to believe looked genuine when he was talking to you, but it seemed that wasn't the case.

“Hey, Husk. Hey, Angel.” You greet the two on the couch, completely passing by Alastor and ignoring his whole existence. “Mind if I sit?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Angel scoots over and makes space for you to squeeze between Husk and himself. “Ya’ look like hell.”

“You alright, kid?”

“Couldn't sleep much last night, but I'm fine.” You reassure them.

The rest of the crew were a bit startled at your display, knowing well that you refused to not sit by Alastor's chair, normally.

And here you were, ignoring him completely like he was no longer relevant, and hanging with the other two demons.

“Okay.. what an interesting way to start the morning!” Charlie tries to break the ice.

Everyone turns their attention towards her.

Everyone but Alastor.

He was practically fuming with rage, anger, irritation, but yet, a tiny bit of worry.

How dare you ignore the Radio Demon like he was some piece of useless trash?

But then again.. why were you suddenly acting so cold and distant? What did he do wrong?

He couldn't help but focus his attention on you throughout the entire day, but you didn't even spare him a single glance.

Needless to say, you felt a knock on your door that night.

“Darling, how wonderful to see you! Wonderful, really. Mind if I come in?”

“A little. What do you need, Alastor?” You stand at the door frame, hand still on the door handle, prepared to slam the door in case anything happens.

Meanwhile, Alastor was pissed. You had never rejected inviting him in for late night chatting, in fact, you never rejected anything from him.

“It's nothing, really. I just hoped to have a friendly little chat with you, if that's alright?” Alastor leans down to your level, tilting his head and giving you his usual smile he reserved for you, and you only.

“A bit busy. Maybe next time.” You attempt to close the door, but a hand swoops in and, damn, was he strong.

“Dear, what seems to be the issue?”

“I’m really busy, Alastor.” You sigh. His ears twitch at the name. Where were all his sweet little nicknames? Why were you only referring to him by his full name?

“Clearly, something is wrong, and I ought to find out what I had done to deserve such treatment.” He states, making himself welcome in your room. “Talk to me, darling.”

“Oh enough with the pet names, I’m not your fucking pet.” You roll your eyes, closing the door behind you to make sure no one stumbles upon your little predicament.

Alastor stiffens, then laughs.

“Whatever are you talking about, dear? Of course you’re not my pet.”

“The damn contract says otherwise..” You watch as Alastor shifts uncomfortably, his back still facing you. “I should’ve known you just wanted another soul. Fuck you, Alastor.”

You continue on about how you never should’ve trusted him, and how you finally knew about everything so there was no point in him pretending to tolerate you.

Alastor, however, could barely process anything you were saying. He could hear his own static in his own head, and it was growing louder and louder.

What the fuck was happening? How did you know? What did he ever do? Where did he go wrong..?

“Darling, please.. You don’t understand-” The radio filter in his voice was off, his actual voice coming out as a soft plea.

Taken aback, you stopped talking. Alastor turned to face you, smile still etched high and proud, but his eyes looked like he was about to break.

“Alastor..” You murmur. “I just don’t think I can trust you anymore. I’m sorry.”

“When have I ever used any of that power on you?!” Alastor snaps, eyes darting all over the place, trying to find out what to do to fix all this. “I’ve been nothing but nice! I.. I helped you when you were in trouble! I did nothing to hurt you..”

You watch as Alastor starts losing his usual composure, having it slowly drifting away.. It was heartbreaking seeing him like this, but you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him and pretend nothing happened.

“It doesn’t matter when you’re in control..”

“No.. darling, no! You’re in control!” He scrambles, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“Really? I’m not sure I trust any of that bullshit anymore.”

“Dear, please, listen to me..!”

“I'm sorry, Al.. I think it's best if you leave.”

He pauses.

“Have a good sleep, dear.” He says, voice filter completely off. It was a rare occasion getting to hear his sweet voice. Too bad it had to be under such circumstances.

-----

“Oh my, Alastor, what's got your ears pinned back?” Rosie leads her friend through the halls and has him take a seat opposite of her. “Is everything alright?”

“No.. no it's not.” He replies. “She found out.”

“About the deal?”

“No, Rosie. No.” He sighs. “She found out what selling her soul to me actually permits me.”

“But you never wanted to abuse that power, did you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, I'm assuming you didn't tell her?”

“No.”

“Well, why not?”

“Would it make a difference?" She could practically hear him scoff. "She's irritated at me as is. It's not like she'd even heed my words."

“Come, now, Alastor. You know as well as I that the sweetheart would listen.” Rosie tuts, waving a hand at him.

“She doesn't need to know how powerful she actually is.. she doesn't need to know her soul is being gambled this very second.”

Alastor sighs, getting up from his chair.

“Thank you for your kind words, Rosie. I shall take my leave now.”

“Take care, Alastor.” She smiles. “I'm sure she'll understand.”

“I surely hope you're correct."

———/ TBC. /———

READ PART 2 HERE

[kyluxtrashpit]

So I’m having another… let’s call it an internet crisis. A thing that typically happens when I have Big Problems I can’t do fuck all about which means now it’s time to get Really Upset about problems that are comparatively small but do affect my daily routine (sorry again for no cut, I still can’t remember how to do it on mobile and I fucking hate hate hate the desktop post editor as much as someone can hate a piece of code)

It’s… getting harder to use tumblr. This isn’t about the sidebar, I don’t actually hate the sidebar cause we used to have a sidebar on the other side and I’ve missed it every since it left, but it’s about other things. A lot of things, but I won’t get into them all right now. For me, the new post editor is just. Really fucking difficult to use. If you’re just doing an unformatted, unplanned ramble (like this) or a little shitpost, it’s fine, especially if you’re on mobile (somehow the shitty mobile editor is now less shitty than the desktop editor, how tf did that happen), but if you’ve got multiple paragraphs and literally any formatting is needed? Well, you’re fucked, quite frankly, it is the most dense and convoluted post editor I’ve seen in like roughly 2 decades spent online. I’ve never seen anything more counterintuitive and difficult to use

And I’m sitting here with all these twitter posts I want to move. Some are little and would be easy. Others are a lot longer and more complicated and would shove me into that formatting hell I despise so much (and given how much feedback and unanswered asks to wip I’ve sent with no improvements, I’ve given up hope of it ever being made better). Like god I really, really want to save those posts but is it even worth it to do it here? But where else would I do it?

And the secondary layer too is… there’s no fucking posts here. No engagement on posts either most of the time. 90% of my posts come from my archive cause the kylux and Kylo (plus a few others I check less regularly) tags have very few daily posts and there’s hardly anything on my dash anymore. My original posts maybe get 10 notes on average, and these posts are ones that sometimes got near triple digit rts alone on twitter. Just seems there’s exceptionally few people here to enjoy them

And I’m still on twitter. It’s slowly dwindling but it’s still slightly more active than here. I’m on pillowfort and bsky too and they are truly dead (unless you’re a furry, good on the furries for populating every site in existence). There’s just. Nothing anymore. Maybe my fandoms are just dead but it feels like the meme about passing around the same $20 among friends cause capitalism is destroying us except with posts and likes

Idk. I feel like I don’t have an online home anymore. 90% of my socializing is online and 100% of my creativity is expressed through fandom and. I don’t know where to do that anymore. I have friends I chat with on discord and I love them but it’s… it’s not the same as a whole community, you know? And now that our homes are falling apart with every sign pointing towards imminent foreclosure like. What do I do. I know I’ve been through site losses before but. It feels different. Something new and shiny always came along before the end. I fear that’s not coming and we’ll all just be lost

Idk. I don’t have a conclusion. Twitter is doomed. I hate how the new owners are running on tumblr and I’m still posting here more out of a desperate desire to remember what community felt like than any real actual want to do so. The new sites have nothing going on. Idk. I feel lost. And maybe it’s the 15 other problems I have going on right now and hormones and shit but. I just don’t know what to do and I’m scared of what the future looks like for online communities and how alone I’ll be if I lost them (even though in reality I already have lost them aside from a small handful of people)

[itofthames]

Freefall Pt 10 (Jing Yuan x Reader)

WC: 589

Tags; nothing new

rushing a little bit, but more yandere type stuff to come as we reach the end.

Read here or on Ao3

It's a new day and you're looking over some food supply reports. A pre-predicted and scheduled change in soil materials has led to a drop in produced food by a third of a percent. Over the course of a normal human lifespan of fifty to seventy years, no problem. Thousands? A potentially massive issue.

"And how are you this evening?" Jing Yuan asks.

"Oh, reviewing some reports and double-checking stats."

Jing Yuan laughs heartily.

"I'm beginning to think they hardly have you do anything else around here."

"You'd be about right," you chuckle and swipe away on your holopad.

His hand settles right above your ass again, his face is close enough that his breath sweeps against the back of your neck. And it stays there. There's no ghosting past you this time so as to not draw attention to the too-intimate contact.

Your stomach sinks and you look up from the pad, smiling nervously at him.

Your co-workers are still in the room. What if they notice? It isn't like Jing Yuan gets all close and lovey-dovey with anyone else.

"Jing Yuan, did you want to speak with me in private again?"

Its his typical go-to whenever he wants you, but this time he shakes his head, "No, I just wanted to stand near you, is all."

"Oh,"

You're not sure how to feel about that, but Jing Yuan does eventually wish you well and leave to attend other business. No one walks up to you directly and says anything and eventually, you stop thinking about it.

...but eventually, you begin to notice. It's a slow, lurching feeling that makes a home in the pit of your stomach.

Jing Yuan can only do so much. There are naturally things that give it away and you're willing to cut your co-workers a lot of slack but not this much. You would have called yourself out by now.

Your work allocations, though numerous, are just a little too easy. People clear out when you enter hallways and, while it is empowering, is a level of creepy that leaves you shaken. Above all else, a full month after your return from work, there's one noticeable factor missing.

Where is Fu Xuan?

One of her honored duties was to come and see Jing Yuan and update him on whatever she divined. Now she's absent. Without so much as a word or an update or some sort of report.

Were you mortified to ever have to face her again knowing that she knew? Sure, but that didn't mean you never wanted to see her again.

You're pretending to be consumed with work again when Jing Yuan steps down for his own daily routine and lingering by your side. Sometimes dragging you away and sometimes not. This time when he's behind you, you're frightened to even ask.

"And how are your reports so far?"

"Boring as ever," You say, not even wanting to throw a look over your shoulder. You've got a good idea as to what's going on by now, and its making you wish you'd said something earlier. Much earlier. Possibly even before he had shown up in your home that day. "Jing Yuan,"

"Yes, love?"

"Are you...telling people to make things easier for me?"

The silence that stretches between the both of you is enough of an answer. You finally turn to look at him.

His eyes are steely and vicious. You feel frozen to the spot, but he deflates and closes his eyes.

"Who told you?"

Your heart sinks.

[snek-snacc]

I'm starting to suspect the only way to get quackcicle content is to write it myself

[douxie-casperan]

Rise of the Titans and the assassination Hisirdoux Casperan’s character development

I’ve been ranting so much since Wednesday morning that I finally condensed by thoughts of WHY this one subject keeps setting me off namely the utterly diabolical way they handled Douxie and Archie’s relationship in Rise of the Titans and how it wasn’t just enough to hit him with the nerf bat.

Please note I’m at the point where I literally cannot tell the difference between Aaron headcanons, Teny headcanons and my own they are all mixed together in the blender that does funky things. I also apologise for typo/weird wording it’s half 1 in the morning and I’d rather sleep than edit.

~

If asked to sum up Hisirdoux Casperan there are certainly several things that come to mind:

Sees the value in people as a whole and will find do anything if there is a chance of help someone out

Prefers tactics that disable/banish rather than kill an enemy yet willing and able to pull the trigger if circumstances become forced

While not academically inclined he is very capable of thinking on his feet and outside the box calling back to his time on the streets where a split-second decision making is the difference between being caught and not

Terrible at planning he’ll be in there figuring it out as he goes along which is what makes the previous point so vital to literally how he goes through life

A natural charmer that would let him talk his way out of trouble 9/10 providing a perfect cover for his distrustful nature and reluctance to be touched by random people

Very down to earth, humble and never one to brag unless outright sassing someone

Will bang out some hot tunes at the drop of a hat, his love of music has never wavered once since he caught the bug despite instrument hopping ironically becoming a jack of all trades much like his magic style

The earliest memories he can recall are him as a young boy lost in the woods where he was for an unknown amount of time before his soon to be familiar finds him amongst the roots covered in dirt and drying tears, there is nothing before that. Unbeknownst to him is the colour of his magic matches the blue of a lost mother’s eyes and the song that haunts his nightmares as much as fire could well be hers though there is no way to be sure. From that moment on Archibald, shortened to Archie, would become his entire world and their friendship only becoming closer during the years they prowled Camelot together trying to keep themselves in one piece until the fateful day Douxie tricks the wrong person leading him straight into the path of the famous wizard Merlin Ambrosius.

It's no real secret that Merlin is a very closed off person who keeps his emotions as well guarded as his secrets, prefers the style of negative reinforcement over positive encouragement and is a very strict perfectionist in his. At this point in his life he can be very easily described as a disaster that is genuinely doing his best with every little mistake held of his head and his future self when brought back to that time period is belittled by Lancelot (Errand boy) and Arthur (Boy) too meaning it’s hardly a wonder his confidence was very fragile revelling in the times where he could do things without being told off for it. With Morgana largely ignoring him too (Though personally I like to think as he got older she’d occasionally take an interest until the blistering arguments with their master started to talk over daily life) a certain disguised dragon would have remained a lifeline and give that physical affection he craved much like being told he’d done well never seemed able to earn.

With Killahead he’d lose that home and family he made leaving just the two of them behind struggling to figure out their place in the world that had abandoned them.

There wouldn’t have been the words for it back then but the way he had been treated prior was outright abusive instilling very bad habits into Douxie yet by irony he was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and help those in trouble without thinking earning a reputation as the Shepard of Fire. He refused to become like him seeking to be better, perhaps not as a wizard (Even though he was learning new charms and spells along the way) but certainly as a person. Despite everything he suffers through or witnesses in the intervening years, the loss of friends and kindling of far newer ones he never loses his good heart 

That said is it any wonder that after rightfully sassing Merlin for resurfacing, ignoring his existence despite being in the same town and only visiting him to run a finding errand that all the confidence he’d managed to build completely from scratch after Camelot wavered causing him to fall back solely into trying impressing his old Master who was acting like his humble apprentice must have coasted the past few centuries who himself fell back into old habits of belittling? It’s only when Merlin started to truly listen and acknowledge that this was not the same Moppet he once knew after Excalibur was fixed that their relationship finally started to become more like equals. After the defeat of Janus the changeling that broke into the castle he touched Douxie’s shoulder with a genuine smile and for a second he simply didn’t know what to do because the old man never did this before his brain kicked into gear and realised he’d finally earned that one thing he’d been so desperate for his entire life: That in Merlin’s eyes he could be more than a failure who only caused problems for the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had, never solved them.

A staff will be earned, history would be set back on trap by banishing Morgana tag teaming with Archie because they know one another inside and out, as promised he’d get the kids back to the present but soon after things would go badly wrong. They’d lose Jim and because of his very nature he’d make a gamble to try and get him back because that life is worth trying for just for in a moment of surprising selflessness Merlin would be sacrificed to save him. The only constant in his life apart from Archie would apologise, openly express pride and how the greatest thing he’d ever done was saving this orphan, call him son for the first and final time before turning into ash in his arms. There would be no time to grieve for things will barrel into the crescendo of Douxie sacrificing his own life to buy everyone time to escape because if they did that everything he’d ever done would be worth it with one last whispered goodbye.

(Zoe sees him fall, so does Archie – His heart would break if he was conscious just like theirs does when his body crumples into the ground)

On the very fringes of the Light Realm he is gifted one more conversation with Merlin in a truly heart-breaking sequence (THANKS TENY) where they can just talk without any fear of consequence or politics and just be completely honest. Douxie is allowed to stand equal to Merlin, to have the hug he’d needed since he was a child and be allowed to simply let go of every pretense and cry his heart out because this can never happen again. He’s allowed to say goodbye to both his master and Morgana who had both shaped so very much of his life but like the painting he’d always remained firmly in the long shadows of until that moment.

When Hisirdoux Casperan finally leaves Wizards if we just accidently deliberately put the shawarma back in along with checking in with Zoe before departure, it is with having learned to live during his wandering years but this is the point of true freedom because he can finally escape into his own light with Archie by his side to keep Nari out of the hands of those that would see the world harmed. It won’t be easy but it feels possible somehow even with the knowledge everything is simply running on borrowed time.

Then Rise of the Titans happens.

At first everything is genuinely fine! No more running, they engineer a solution shut the Order’s magic down to make them a lot less dangerous and potentially at least incapacitate them until they can come up with a longer-term solution but all the best laid plans and all that. Douxie’s quick thinking stops the train from crushing any of the people below and it’s a very him style move to switch places with Nari to stall for time because for some reason the plot disabled Claire from portaling her or any of the threatened people/heroes to safety. He openly sasses the Order despite knowing the consequences will be bad for him because once again he’s managed to trick them, buy time that at the other end isn’t even slightly utilised until he’s forced back into his own body in excruciating pain. Archie immediately mobs him with comfort just as he has done every single time the wizard is distressed or collapsed with exhaustion without thinking because that is what their bond is like, incredibly close and far more than the Soul Bond mark that connects them together. They’re very alike in that regard, you have to earn the right to touch while equally knowing exactly what form the other needs the most in that precise moment in a way very few others could.

Bar the moment of figuring out that an illusion is in place to hide where the Order is opening the Genesis Seals and the brief insistence on reconnecting with Nari somehow Douxie manages to forget everything that makes him who he is after this point choosing to stand in the background being very no thoughts head empty or can only use the most basic spells of his youthful days not the seasoned master wizard he should be. Nomura is treated like an innocent slip rather than an outright death he did absolutely nothing to prevent (Not to mention the stupid daytime thing) nor seems to care particularly about afterwards yet with Nari’s he’s allowed to openly grieve in a gorgeously animated visual showing how he’d failed to keep her safe despite everything. He did nothing to help here either mind despite allowing himself to be tortured in the same piece of media to keep her safe, just watched another loss happen right in front of his eyes in his conga long line of them.

Then there’s Archie, oh god then there was Archie.

The dragon who even here he’d been shown to have an incredibly close bond with him decides you know what sod that tell him goodbye I’m going to make a joke about having a kingdom now dad and me are trapped in here forever. Douxie on his part looked sad for all of three seconds saying that he hoped he’s happy like it's a pet that wandered out into the world one day and never came back instead of a lifelong companion that has been there for as long as he can remember. He was now completely alone in the world since Zoe was also written out entirely and because every bit of his background had been forgotten about it somehow meant nothing. This wasn’t “I know you miss him, I know you need to grieve but you are running out of time” moment like things had been with Charlie, this was “cool shapeshifting dragon cat is now stuck in a plot hole that’s a shame” with zero pay off or any of the genuine reaction that should have been there or hell even trying to Ohana him back that very second because it never should have happened in the first place. Then even this wasn’t enough somehow, they managed to de-power Douxie even further into uselessness bar the (Admittedly nifty!) sticky feet stunt, the one who fought Skrael and Bellroc to a stalemate was shunted aside with barely a thought and his head would somehow get even emptier.

The one person who knew the danger of time magic the most stood by and said nothing.

The one person who would suffer the most by a reset because the lynchpin to his issues would be asleep if you got it wrong and should have drilled it into Jim’s head the best time to aim for stood by and said nothing.

The one person who had just suffered the loss of his familiar, best friend and only family along with the almost sister like Nari stood by and said nothing.

Then to add further insult to injury the caption when Douxie and Archie is shown says Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation because every drop of his character growth, his ability to finally start addressing his trauma instilled back in the 12th century, the staff he longed for was instead openly mocked by going “Aww he got his cat friend back how nice!” Everything he’d rightfully earned and had now would be unable to progress until certain criteria are met because it hinges entirely on the Trollhunter going to Merlin’s tomb and there’s only so much your support network of two (One if she’s written out) can do, the root of the majority of his issues all stem from one man.

And this folks is why I’ve been going on multiple rants about Douxie in particular, everyone was hit with the out of character bat to some degree in this film but when they came for him they didn’t just stop after they took his legs out because they wanted him to suffer from something he’s never had any control over to begin with all over again. Abuse survivors deserve better, these characters deserve better and we as viewers deserve far far better writing than we were forced to endure.

[dabilove27]

How Far We've Come

Paring: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Smut (female-receiving oral), A Cocky Dabi, Cussing, A lot of Pet Names

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile Apocalypse Collab! If you have the time check out some of the other amazing pieces! Everyone has worked so hard to make some beautiful fics!

Thank you so much to my wife @lady-lunaaa for reading, encouraging, brainstorming, and helping me the whole way from start to finish. I have said it before but I will say it again. You are absolutely amazing and this fic wouldn't exist without you! 💜 Also thank you @/deathcab4daddy (not sure if you want to be tagged) for taking the time to read through and for your advice!

You've seen all those movies, the decaying zombie hoards, the massive explosions that wipe out nations, or an unexpected illness that mysteriously kills off the population. But you had never really expected for any of those apocalyptic things to become true in your own world.  They were just fiction, never something that could actually occur. Yet here you are faced with the reality of a hoard of rotting zombies. Like you have been thrown into one of the many movies or TV shows yourself.

People aren't even sure how it happened, especially in a world full of quirks where this should be somewhat controlled, right? Wrong, whatever caused this zombie apocalypse also seemed to nullify quirks over time. There was so much speculation whether it came into the water supply or passed through the air. But none of that really seems to matter anymore when you are fighting for your life every day.

And as the mass of decaying, walking corpses steps closer and closer to you, it seems like your end is near too. The smell of organs exposed to the air and sun stink up the room.  You can see the blank, milky white eyes of the undead that somehow can still find you even though they can't really see.  You've had a partner, at least—the man who has stood with you during this entire shit show.

He stands close to you, a single rusted knife covered in stagnant blood, not nearly enough even combined with whatever you could find for fighting off the seemingly endless mindless bodies coming your way. He's covered in burn scars and rusted staples that pull at his healthy skin. People used to jab at him for looking like the walking dead before all this went down.  His firepower from before would have solved this problem in an instant. This rotting mob wouldn't have stood a chance.

But instead, it looks like it's the conclusion for the two of you. Memories flash through your mind. A memory of escaping the daily struggle of your mundane life by sharing take-out on your old couch.  Or how his kisses always felt like burning flames against your lips.  Your regular life consisted of trying to numb the pain of the past with alcohol or working endless hours.  Even though you didn’t have a traditional relationship where you could go on public dates, being in a relationship with a well-known villain was worlds better than this. But if you were going to die, at least it was together. Solidarity in times like this seems to help the never-ending dread that the Reaper looming around every corner ready to take you.  Every moment in this new hell had you wished you had more time to develop your romance with him instead of the tragedy that was about to befall you. You wished you had more time with this romance and that it wouldn't end in tragedy. It's hard to believe that there was ever a time when you couldn't stand this man, but even now, that's a fond memory for you.  You would give anything to return to that old bar where the two of you met and relive all of these memories.

It really isn't a surprise that you met Dabi in a dark, run-down bar near Kamino.  No, not the "bar" run by Kurogiri; everyone who lived in this area knew that it was just a setup. This bar is a tiny little hole in the wall with paint chipping off the walls and where the seats were hardly held together anymore, but that didn't really matter to people who lived in this area. You didn't come to this bar for a luxury experience.

The main reason people came to this bar was its location.  It sat deep in a seedy area which meant no police patrolling nearby so you wouldn’t need to look over your shoulder constantly.  Plus, the cheap liquor was enticing enough.

Every Friday night, you were perched on one of the worn-out bar stools as you nursed your gin and tonic.  This was your place to unwind after another hellish week of your mundane job.  It was still early enough in the evening that the bar wasn't thoroughly packed with bodies trying to get their drink.  The music was still soft,  later it would blare whatever song was currently sitting at the top of the Billboard charts. You were able to turn your brain off and listen to other patrons' mindless chatter in the background.  You could just sip your drink, maybe take a shot or two if you felt like, and then head home to pass out.

You relished this little getaway, an oasis in the slums that made up your small world.  The bartender and regular patrons didn't bother you, so you could have your own peace.  But your Eden got interrupted by a cocky, fire-wielding asshole who had set his sights on you.

You didn't stir when said asshole plopped himself down in the barstool next to you with a thump.  It wasn't until the jerk actually spoke to you that you were brought out of your mindless daydreaming.

"Hey, pretty girl, what are you doing in a place like this?"  He said with a smooth tone.  You didn't even have to look at him to know he had an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Who the fuck does this asshole think he is? The irritated thought instantly pops into your head.  Anyone who frequented this bar knew you were from around here.  You weren't some soft, delicate flower that wasn't supposed to be "on this side of town."  Preparing yourself by putting on your best "I'm not interested face," you maneuvered your body to face him, ready to tell him off.

Your words caught in your throat as your eyes met his two endless pools of cerulean.  Your gaze shifted to take in the burnt skin clinging onto the shining staples that were rooted in his healthy skin. A familiar black coat spread across his frame that was even more recognizable than those eyes, and the patronizing smile that you wanted to slap off his face. As much as you wanted to throw up your middle finger at him and tell him off, you knew who this was. Hell, everyone knew who this was.

The League of Villains didn't necessarily keep quiet around here. They didn't have to. This is the area where they recruited people to join them. You didn't just flick off and ignore a LOV member. Especially the infamous Dabi, who wasn't really known for his kindness or compassion. More for his ability to burn anyone who defied The League to a crumbling crisp.

But still, who did this asshole think he is? Waltzing in here like he owned it and saddling down into your escape from the world only to tell you that you don't look like you should be here?  Fuck that nonsense, League member or not.

You swallow down a bit of the initial anger as your eyes narrow into a glare at the cocky asshole.  "Thanks but no thanks, I'm not interested in being involved with the League. So if you don't mind going somewhere else to scout, that would be great." You try to say without a tremble in your voice as you wave your hand in a "shoo" motion.

You aren't sure what you expect Dabi to do next., burn down the whole bar you included? Tell you that you have no choice but to join, and you're coming with him? Rip you out of your seat and reprimand you for disrespecting The League? But instead, none of those things happen.  Instead, he does something you don't expect, and his grin grows a little wider as the staples begin to pull more at his healthy flesh.

You can feel your anxiety rising. Get out, get out, get out, this asshole will kill you, leave NOW, your mind is practically sending off every warning signal it can.

Your chest tightens when Dabi lets out a low chuckle. "Oh no, sweetheart, you've got it all wrong."  He says with a dark tone. "I'm not recruiting you for work. My interest in you is personal."  Dabi points at you and then at himself and finishes with an infuriating smirk that seems to be mocking you.  He's moved his hand and placed it on your forearm that was resting on the smooth bar top.

A shiver runs through you as the mismatched textures of his skin and the cool metal of the staples.  You feel your anger bubbling up again.  How dare this jerk think that you will just fall for him like a desperate fangirl.  You are livid at this point, frustration coursing through your veins, fuck the niceties and preservation. He needed to be put in his place.

"I know you think you are some big shot because The League is doing so well right now but fuck off asshole.  I'm not a League groupie that will just kneel down and suck your dick just because you want it." You spit out at him while shrugging off his hand and moving your body to face the way you were initially sitting. Grasping your drink and lifting it to your lips, you try and down what was left so you could leave immediately, any extra moment around Dabi was a moment you didn't want to have.

You were sure Dabi would have given up or at least killed you by now. You can't imagine that he is used to being rejected by women.  He's handsome in a way that doesn't fit with the norm.  He fills in that bad boy check-list like it's his job, which it practically is given his profession.  Again though, Dabi surprises you with his response. He doesn't yell, he doesn't use his quirk, and he doesn't kill you. He lets out another dark chuckle like he's enjoying this and continues the conversation you had tried to cut off.

"I didn't say anything about sucking dick, but if you're offering, who am I to turn down a gift?"  That smooth tone is back as he moves his hand to your hair and runs it through his fingers.

Bewilderment overcomes you, and you can't even stop yourself before you are turned towards him again, glass in your hand, ready to throw what's left of your drink on him.

As if he anticipated the response, Dabi moves quickly and grabs your wrist in a tight grip.  "Now, why would you want to waste what you have left, doll? That's not a very smart choice." His grip tightens a little more around your wrist, and you can feel the staples begin to dig into your skin as he lets out a deep chuckle. He moves your hand back down to the bar but doesn't let go even after your glass has left your hand.  "There we go, good girl.  Now let's talk just a bit." He says sweetly, loosening his grip just a bit, but not enough for you to move your hand.

If looks could kill, Dabi would have died a cruel death by now. You are seething at this point.  But instead, you're stuck there as he continues to do whatever it is that he’s trying to accomplish.  "What were you drinking?  I'll buy you another one and then leave, okay doll?"  He says playfully and with a cunning grin on his face as you mumble out your drink order.  You just want him to leave, and you really hope he plans on keeping his word.

Dabi motions for the bartender's attention, gives your drink order and plops a few bills on the bartop. He still hasn't let go of your wrist, and each and every moment he is even touching you, you can feel your annoyance continuing to build.  You want to ask him if he's done yet and will kindly get the fuck out, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he likes the cat and mouse game, which would just lengthen the amount of time he sticks around.

The bartender finally delivers your drink, and it takes everything in you not to rip your wrist out of his grasp and grab the new glass to pour over Dabi's head.  "Okay, one last question, and then I'll leave."  He drawls out as you put all your focus into the condensation forming on your glass.  You stay silent, waiting for his stupid question so you can move on and never see him again.  Dabi continues with that condesending tone that is starting to cause your head to ache, "How often do you come here? I'd love to see you again."

Your heartbeat picks up, and little shots of adrenaline start to flow through you as you contemplate how to respond. Of course, you don't want this asshole to know when you come here. This is your escape from the world. You never want to even see Dabi again,  but something from this interaction tells you Dabi isn't going to give up easily. So you tell him your regular time that you show up at the bar every Friday.

Dabi squeezes your wrist a little bit before letting out another "Good girl, sounds like a date.  I'll see you then." You never want him to know how those few words send a shiver down your spine. He saunters out of the bar without having a single drink himself. Patrons stare dumbfounded between you and the doorway that Dabi just exited, trying to comprehend what just happened.

You let out an exasperated sigh before leaning your head down into your folded arms.  The bar top isn't necessarily the cleanest of places to lay your head, but it’s pounding and racing with thoughts, and you can't really bring yourself to care right now.  You try to formulate a plan so you won't ever see him. You'll just move your regular day to Saturday instead of Fridays.  But then that stubborn anger flares inside of you again, and you sit up straight, glancing at your newly unwanted drink as the ice slowly melts, lifting the remaining liquid in the cup.  No, I'm not going to let that asshole ruin my spot for me.  He can come around here every Friday, but I'll turn that jerk down a million times. You think a little smugly to yourself.  We will see how the big bad Dabi feels being turned down over and over.  Maybe that will sting his ego.

And so you and Dabi play this game of cat and mouse. He comes every Friday when you are there without fail, buying you a drink, chatting to you with sentences filled with pet names, and planning another "date" each time.  And every time you tell him you aren't interested or to go away, or really anything to try and get that stupid fucking smirk off his face.  But it always remains cemented there as he watches you get fired up.  And what you don't realize is the two of you are getting to know each other.  Dabi adds in little questions, "what's your favorite food, least favorite, what do you do for work?"  And the questions go on and on.  You don't realize your walls coming down as the two of you find similarities in each other.  And if there is one thing anyone who sees these frequent interactions between the two of you can say, it is that Dabi is determined.

You are so used to Dabi's Friday visits that they don't bring headaches anymore, and you realize something more has developed when he doesn't show up one week.  A mixture of feelings rests in you, anxiety, confusion, anger.  You wonder if he's okay, or has he finally given up.  And then anger if he has.  You don't want to admit it, but you miss his company, and you don't even have a number to reach out to him.  You feel a sense of loss in your chest.  How could he just give up?  He's been trying for months!  You think as tears begin to sting for a moment in your eyes.

You leave the bar that night not feeling uplifted or relaxed but sad and angry.  And you aren't necessarily looking forward to returning the week after, but you do come back to your regular spot and hope Dabi will show.  Your heart almost stops in your chest when you see him walk through the entrance of the bar, and before you can contain the words, they tumble out in a frantic sound, "where were you last week?"  You are standing in front of him now, looking up at that little grin he always has on his face whenever you get annoyed with him.  You cross your arms over your chest and exclaim, "Well? I'm waiting."

"Aw, did you miss me, baby girl?"  His poker face never falls, but his grin grows a tiny bit wider as he stares into your fiery eyes.  And without warning, he wraps one of his long arms around you, pulling you into a tight side hug.

A small eep escapes you at the movement, and you move to push him off.  "What the hell are you doing? Answer my question, you jerk!" You practically yell as you push away from him.  He doesn't let go and just pulls you tighter to him, and you find yourself not struggling anymore as you take in the weathered texture of his coat pressed against your arm and the smell of cigarettes on him.  You feel your walls starting to fall entirely, "I was really concerned about you." You let out in a whisper, not really wanting to admit it to him, but you weren't sure how you would feel if something like this happened again.

"Aw, babe, you did miss me."  The delight in his voice makes you shiver a little.  He gestures you over to your regular spot at the bar, and the two of you sit down in the weathered chairs.  He puts a calloused finger under your chin to bring your gaze to his.  You stare into his cerulean depths that you used to hate and find yourself softening a bit.  "I had to do something for The League, but I don't have your number, love.  So I couldn't call and let you know I wouldn't make our date."  His face relaxes a bit as he watches your frown turn into a bit of pout.

"Okay, well fine, I'll give you my number.  But don't just text me randomly, okay?"  You huff as you lay your palm flat and motion for his phone.  Dabi chuckles and shakes his head before handing you the phone without another word.  Lifting the phone, you type your number into the cracked screen and hand it back to him.  "Okay, now text me, so I have yours. " You say, moving to grab your phone to wait for his upcoming text.

"Hmmm, I don't think so, doll,"  Dabi says, taking in your furrowed brow and then relishing in the way you roll your eyes at his taunting.

"Fine, whatever, Dabi.  Just text me next time you can't make it."  You say sourly while searching for the bartender to order your drink.  You don't want Dabi to see the slight sting of hurt in your eyes because he won't give you his.  The rest of the night goes as expected, drinking and talking, and you find yourself laughing more, not realizing how much you truly enjoyed this time with him.

The two of you depart with another hug, this one much shorter than the first, but you find yourself leaning into the warmth that radiates from him instead of wanting to push him off.  As you begin walking down the street home, you feel a buzz in your pocket.  Pulling out your phone, you unlock it to the message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey babe, see you same time next week - D

A small smile comes to your face as you type a response back.

The following year you grow in your relationship with Dabi.  There are never really any titles between the two of you.  Just that the two of you are together.  You never meet The League. Dabi is insistent you aren't involved with them in case things go awry.  But you spend a lot of time together when work or villain work doesn't take up the time.

Your relationship together comes to a head at the very start of the apocalypse.  The two of you sit snuggled together on your worn-out couch watching the news as a young reporter stands in front of a local research building in town and goes through the facts of citizens becoming "mindless and violent in a matter of hours."  And how they have people under lockdown who are experiencing symptoms of this "mysterious illness."

A slight shiver goes through you as the reporter goes on.  "That's really scary. No one knows what's causing it,"  you reflect aloud while you lean in closer into Dabi's outstretched arm that is resting around your shoulders.

"Aw, babe, don't be scared.  Those mindless fools wouldn't stand a chance if they tried to lay a hand on you while I'm there,"  Dabi says with a glint of amusement in his voice.  He always sounds so condescending, but you know it's the truth.  Remembering a time at the bar when a guy wouldn't take no for an answer-not that Dabi really followed that either- but Dabi didn't hesitate to let the guy know you were already taken.  He flirts and likes to jab a lot, but there’s a complete shift in the atmosphere when he's serious.

"Ugh, Dabi, you know I don't mean them attacking us. It's whatever is causing it that worries me. What happens if one of us gets it?  There's no cure right now,"  You say and worry your lower lip between your teeth.

Dabi picks up on your anxious state, and his cocky facade fades.  He pulls you on his lap so that you are fully facing him with legs pressed on either side of his.  Dabi holds one large hand on your waist, and the other he presses to your cheek.  Leaning your cheek further into his hand, Dabi moves his thumb to trace over the slight marks in your lip where your teeth were just placed.  "Hey, listen to me, nothing is going to happen, okay?  I won't let any of these maniacs hurt you, and we won't catch whatever they have,"  Dabi says tenderly as he gives you a small smile.

It's nice to see him like this- when his mask of superiority disappears, and he's focused on encouraging you.  It doesn't happen often because you like to keep walls.  Comfort from Dabi doesn’t need to happen often but you can’t say you don’t like it when he does.  You enjoy these softer moments with him that only you get to see.

You pull Dabi into a light kiss.  The gentle pressure of his mismatched lips fit seamlessly against yours.  You pull away after a moment to look into his deep blue eyes that now captivate you.  Dabi has that coy smile still on his face, and as his eyes meet your in that moment, it's like the horrible events of the world aren't happening anymore.  All that seems to exist is the two of you, not the TV still prattling in the background or even the noises outside your city window.

Dabi lightly caresses your cheek down to the length of your neck and finally ending near where your collarbones sit.  Everywhere he touches leaves behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin.  Even with these simple touches, you can feel yourself starting moving against him, trying to create a bit of friction.  Dabi knew how easily he could rile you up with simple touches.  It was frustrating at times, and you wished you could have the same effect on him.

"I love you, babe.  And no matter what, I won't let anything hurt you,"  Dabi tells you, and you swear his voice seems to be cracking, but the moment is gone before you can think about it.  Dabi lives on being mysterious most of the time, and you rarely get to see this vulnerable side of him.  Even if he doesn't say it behind that mask of cockiness, you can feel that there is fear of what's happening right now.  Or at least that's what you think the fear is from, but Dabi will never admit the fear is from losing you to whatever this is.  He isn't sure he could survive this hell of a life he's been given without you.

Your heart aches at his sincere words from earlier, and you whisper back, "I love you too, Dabi."  Drawing him into a more intense kiss.  Dabi begins to run his fingers along the hem of your t-shirt and delicately brushes the skin right under with his fingertips.  You feel a moan bubble up inside of you, but his mouth moving against yours swallows the sound.

"I want you so bad, doll.  Let's just forget what's going on right now, let the world fall away,"  he says in a husky voice after breaking away from the kiss.

You nod to him before letting out a content sigh and letting your eyes fall shut while Dabi continues to trace his hands over your body.  Dabi trails his massive heated hands under the thin shirt you are wearing and down to your hips.  You can feel the bulge of his cock through his jeans as it begins to press against your clothed core.

Opening your eyes, you meet Dabi's half-lidded lustful eyes and bite your bottom lip and allow yourself to give into Dabi taking over you.

You can feel your heart beating a little faster, watching Dabi drink in every ounce of you.  Dabi is one of the only men you have ever trusted like this.  To have you so totally vulnerable.  It's strange how someone you didn't want anything to do with for months has become someone you rely on for everything- love, comfort, pleasure.

Dabi places open-mouthed kisses along your neck that leave you breathless.  "Fuck, I'm obsessed with every inch of you,"  Dabi growls out before returning to kissing and sucking your neck and exposed collar bone.

You grip Dabi's shoulder to ground you back from floating away into complete bliss and tip your head out to give him more access to your neck.  Dabi's mouth is like a flame that licks at your sensitive skin as he continues to trail his mouth all over.  You could be trapped in this pleasure forever.

Dabi grasps the back of your head and roughly brings your lips back to his.  With your mouths slotted against each other, you moan as Dabi finesses you to where you are lying on your back on the old couch, and he is hovering over you.

You break the kiss to quickly pull off his jacket and expose Dabi's scarred arms.  And just as you have only trusted Dabi fully with yourself, he has done the same.  Of course, the two of you have had sex with other people, mostly with lights off clothing still left on to hide the imperfections.  But with each other, there is no more hiding.

Heat begins to pool in your belly as you watch Dabi pull off your shorts and slide his warm hands all the way back up your leg and massage the plush skin of your thighs.  Once your shorts are removed, Dabi brings himself back to your face and, with a lustful sigh, traces kisses on your jaw and neck.

"Just relax and let me take you away from all of this, love.  I want to hear every sound you make." He growls as he moves down towards your pussy and lays himself between your spread legs.  Dabi lifts your thighs to rest on his shoulder as you let out a little gasp.  You can feel the excitement and heat rising in you.

Dabi kisses down the inside of your soft thighs and stops to suck at certain spots, leaving minor marks in their place.  He stops for a moment until you are looking directly into his captivating gaze, and then he licks a stripe up your pussy over the cotton of your underwear.  You let out a breathy moan at the sensation.   That jerk knows precisely what he's doing.

Dabi then grabs the thin material of your underwear and rips them away from your body with a tear. Groaning, you are about to curse at him for ruining another pair but are cut short when he sleekly licks up your folds. A delicate, playful moan leaves your separated lips.  Your eyes close, and you cling onto his white shirt to ground yourself.

"Baby girl, you're soaking wet," Dabi teases as if you weren't aware but cuts off any retort again with a quick suck to your aching clit. You can't hold back the loud moan that bubbles up in your throat.

Dabi smiles against your lower lips and continues his ministrations.   His mouth is open wide, so he can move back and forth from quickly licking up and down your sensitive pussy as well as suck softly on your clit.   You feel light-headed at the extended sensations, little whimpers and moans falling through your lips.  Dabi has always been able to leave you speechless with just his mouth.

"Dabi please," Your breathing hitches, and you moan out as he flicks his tongue repeatedly over your small bud. You can feel that hot pressure building in your stomach as Dabi continues. He laps at you like you are holding the only source of liquid left in this world, his tongue working wonders on your dripping hole.

Dabi pulls back and looks up at you as you eagerly meet his blue eyes, begging him to continue.  He smirks before lowering his mouth back down and laps at your sopping core teasingly.  Fucking bastard.  Always a tease from day one.

Dabi licks his lips before returning to eating you out even faster as a series of cries and obscenities continue to fall out of your mouth.  You can't hold them back.  His mouth is so hot and wet against your core.

With another curse, you tell him you are close. A sigh escapes your lips, and your head tosses back onto the cushy arm of the couch.  Dabi pulls away but inserts two fingers inside of you in place of his mouth.

"Fuck, sweetheart, as much as I want to hear you beg and plead for me,  I want to taste you right now."  Dabi lets out with a rough voice filled with desire.  You whimper as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.  He smirks at your blissed-out face and then returns his mouth to your pussy.  His tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly as whines and cries continue to be let out of your mouth.  Back arching, you bite at your lip, barely able to even process the words that came out of Dabi just a moment ago.

"Oh, fuck, Dabi, please. Please, I'm gonna cum soon." The words fall from your lips, and your mind feels numb to everything except the feeling of Dabi's tongue on your pussy.

Dabi grunts and gives another hard suck to your clit before pulling away just a bit.  "Hell yeah, babe, come all over my face."

Your eyes roll back, and your mouth opens with another cry as your legs begin to tremble as the tension starts to rise in your stomach. One more lick, and you know you'd come. Dabi's continued suckling of your clit sends you careening over the edge. Your cries fill the room, and your back arches as your legs try to squeeze around his head.  Dabi continues to suck and lick as you orgasm.  Panting and with your eyes twisted shut, you cling to his shirt as you start to come down.  A final curse gently leaves your mouth as you wait for your legs to stop shaking.  Dabi takes one last long slow lick before sitting back and wiping his face with the back of his hand.  You can't bring yourself to move from the couch, still panting and weak.

Your mind starts slowly coming back to you as the bliss begins to leave.  The realization of everything happening in the world washes over you.  But you were thankful Dabi took the time to distract you from the horrors of what's going on.  You move over so Dabi can cuddle with you on the couch.  It isn't much room, but it feels good to be this close with him, wrapped in each other's arms.  You both slowly start to drift off to sleep, but you don't miss Dabi's final words mumbled into your hair, "I'll never let anything happen to you."

Shortly after that, the world seems to descend into madness.  The illness grows more and more rampant.  People are getting infected every day.  Whether it's through the original source of contamination or by those contaminated biting or scratching someone.  Panic spreads throughout the country.  But through all of it, you and Dabi stick together.

From the moment it was declared an emergency Dabi was banging at your door, insisting the two of you find somewhere safer than your run-down apartment.  Because while the two of you needed sleep, whatever these things are could go non-stop, and your apartment was not fortified.

You and Dabi lost your quirks a month after the emergency declaration, along with the rest of the population. People couldn't fight these zombie-like creatures off anymore.  Like all the movies and TV shows, the bodies became more zombies than actual living people.

After a while of jumping around from a destroyed place to another, the two of you found yourself in an apartment building that had a sturdy enough entrance that the zombies couldn't break through.  The daily struggles were still hard, though. Finding food and water to survive became a daily task for the two of you.  Through all of this, he never left your side. He always insisted the two of you stay together.  And so you did.  Fighting the living dead, but sometimes the living too when things got even more terrible, and scavenging was your everyday routine now.

You lost track of time and could only follow when the seasons changed.  But Dabi was really the only thing getting you through this.  Seeing people destroy one another for food or shelter destroyed you inside.  Never knowing if these zombies you were killing were someone you had known at one point, or just another faceless dead person tore at every corner of your brain.  Dabi stayed strong for the two of you.  Holding you every night on the ripped blankets, you could gather for the strange bed the two of you slept in.  You would sob into his muscled chest about how you couldn't live in this world anymore, how you couldn't kill another person, alive or dead.

But Dabi would never let go.  He would hold you close and let your never-ending tears stain the only shirt he had now.  He would rub your back with his warm hands; even though his rusting staples would catch on your shirt and rip from his skin, he still did it.  He would hold you until you fell asleep, whispering how strong you were and how he could never do this without you.  And after all the tears, you were thankful too.  Because without him, you'd be dead or alone.  You knew that without Dabi, you would have never survived this long.

But you could see Dabi was hurting too.  You couldn't find supplies to treat his decaying skin.  He hid his daily pain from you, but when Dabi thought you weren't looking or listening, he would hiss at the pain of another staple pulling at his burnt skin or let out a huge sigh when he would try to put it back together, but it wouldn't cooperate.

The only hope the two of you held onto was each other and that possibly a cure would come soon.  Not that either you could really access that information with no electricity; there wasn't any way to get information other than hearsay.  You survived the best you could in this world.

And as much as this wasn't what you would have picked for either of you, at least you had each other.  You tried not to think of a time when you wouldn't be together, even though the chances of that happening were high- it hurt too much. To survive in this world without Dabi would be too fucking much.

It's almost as if fate chose to play a cruel game with the two of you.  It seemed like a "normal" trip out to scavenge for food and water.  The two of you had to expand your search area since places closer were mainly empty.

This time you found yourself outside of a convenience store, a reasonable distance away from your home.  It hadn't been completely destroyed by some miracle and was not overrun by the zombified people.  Still, in a state of decay, though, Dabi was quickly able to kick his heavy boots through the door and get the two of you in.

Sauntering through the gas station, you quickly begin to pick up canned food and stale bags of chips and shove them in your worn backpack.  Dabi is doing the same on other aisles until he lets out a chuckle.  "Hey babe, look what I found."  He says with a cocky voice holding up a few boxes of wrapped condoms above the aisle for you to see.

You roll your eyes.  "Thanks, Dabi. Is sex really what we want to be thinking about right now? Let's just get this shit and get out."  You let out with an annoyed huff and continue to push the limits of how much your bag can hold.

Dabi comes over to your aisle and snakes his arms around your waist with your back pressed to his chest.  He places his chin on your shoulder and whispers in your ear.  "Yes, all I can think about is getting your beautiful body back home and finally being able to finish in you, and with these, I can."  He lets out a dark chuckle as he pulls you closer against him and bucks  his hips playfully.

"Okay, horn dog, let's get this shit done, and then we can do whatever you want back home."  You let out with an eye roll.  It's hard to stay mad at him. You know he's trying to keep things light for you, to keep you happy because he can see how hard this is.  And his regular teasing is one way he knows will bring a smile to your face.

As you are finishing up trying to take inventory of anything else in the store that you can take back, you spot the clear plastic that holds the cartons of cigarettes behind the cashier counter.  While you didn't necessarily want Dabi smoking, you knew he missed the vice. Cigarettes were just as hard to find as medicine in this new world.  Smiling to yourself, you move behind the counter and reach for the plastic flap to lift it up.

As you try to lift the latch, it doesn't budge. You look around for what might be blocking it before seeing the tiny silver keyhole to one side of the compartment.  Crap, of course, it's locked.    You really wanted to surprise Dabi with this.  Maybe you still could. The key had to be here somewhere, right? You think while scanning around the counter.  You try searching through the counters for a hidden key but no luck.  Letting out a heavy sigh, you call Dabi over.

Dabi wanders over to your annoyed face and can't help but smile at your slight pout.  "I wanted to surprise you! But I can't open it. Can you get it, please?"  It comes out almost like a whine as you gesture to the cigarettes.

Dabi's smirk turns into a genuine smile, and he pats the top of your head before saying, "My sweet doll.  Thank you for thinking of me. Let me help you out."  You could smack him, but instead, you watch as he hastily rips the plastic covering away and slips his hand below it to grab one of the wrapped cartons.

At that moment, everything changes.  The fun times the two of you were having shatters as a loud alarm rings through the store.  Panic floods your system as you stare at Dabi wide-eyed.  "There is no electricity. What's happening? There shouldn't be an alarm."  Horror is laced in your voice as words spill out of you.  Every walking corpse within miles will be here soon with the sound.

"Fuck, must have had a battery attachment. Come on, let's go."  Dabi's usual playfulness is gone as he abandons the cigarettes and grabs your hand.  He's grave now.  Getting the two of you out of here safely is his only goal.

You follow Dabi quickly, a hand grasped tightly in his as he runs towards the broken-down front door.   And that's when even more terror settles into you.  Zombies are pushing their way through the open door.  Their rotting bodies and white eyes focused on the area where the alarm is coming from.  There weren't many around when you broke in, but now it seems like they are multiplying by the moment.

"Fuck fuck fuck." Dabi curses under his breath, quickly turning around and pulling you towards the building's back exit.  You follow behind adrenaline surging through your veins fueled by your flight response.  Dabi grasps at the metal handle to the back door and shakes it only to find it locked.  "Damnit!"  he shouts before kicking the door violently.

Your heart is pounding, and you feel helpless as you stare at Dabi while he continues to slam himself at the door.  While the front door was glass and flimsier, this door was only budging slightly.  With all your focus on the door, you don't notice the continuously growing herd filtering into the gas station.  Not until you feel one brush against your shoulder.

Your eyes widen as you feel a scream bubbling in your throat.  This is it.   This is where the two of you die and either become fodder for a herd of living dead or turn into one yourself.   Your brain is pure panic as thoughts fly through faster than you can catch them.  You don't even realize you have screamed out Dabi's name until you see his face turn towards yours.

His typically blue eyes are almost entirely covered by his dark pupils as he takes in the monstrosities behind you.  But unlike you, he doesn't hesitate. He pulls out a knife he keeps in one of his pockets and slams it into the decaying skull of the zombie that is right behind you.  Splurts of dark blood hit your cheek as he pulls out the knife, and the creature behind you crumples to the floor.

"Keep trying the door! I'll keep them off you."  Dabi shouts, pulling you into the spot he previously stood.  Your heartbeat is so loud you can feel it in your head, and you can't even make a coherent response as you begin to slam your body against the solid surface.  You can feel it give a little more with each push of your body, and everything in you is screaming not to give up.  Doing your best not to glance at Dabi's grunting and movements as he continues to try and put down zombie after zombie.

You can't give up; this can't be the end . Desperately your brain is screaming as you continue to feel the door give more and more.  Your shoulder hurts from the continued impact, but you aren't letting it slow you down.  You can feel it; it's almost there.

Suddenly the door gives, and you can see the sun shining through on the other side.  You cry out in  relief and turn back to tell Dabi to come with you.  But as your eyes meet, fear fills every ounce of you.

He's still fighting them off, but there is a gaping bite wound on his right arm— rows of teeth marks embedded in his skin.  You feel like you're going to be sick. There is no coming back from this; there's no known cure.  At any point within the next twenty-four hours, he would be another one of the walking dead, no sense, no logic, and looking to consume others. This can't be happening, this can't be happening.  Your heart is sinking with every second that ticks by.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Get out! Get out!"  Dabi screams at you as he embeds his knife in another zombie.

"No, no, I can't leave without you!  I-we can find something.  I'll find something, please! Come on, Dabi, I can't do this without you!"  You are sobbing now, hot tears streaming through the dirt and blood mixed on your face.  An ache in your heart starts to form.  You know you don't know how to help him, but you'll do anything to not leave him behind.

Dabi lets out a grin despite the feral dead people closing in on him.  And gives you a wink before saying in a voice that seems too calm for the situation, "Come on, doll, you are the most intelligent person I know.  You have to go.  Live for us, babe.  Look at how far we've come.  Go show this world that it won't ever break you down. I love you, and I'll come to find you wherever you are in the afterlife and annoy the shit out of you.  Now go!"

It's like your heart is being ripped into a thousand pieces. Your breath comes out in short huffs, moving towards hyperventilating.  You want to go back to Dabi and cling on for dear life, but you won't let him die in vain.  Not after that speech.  That would be an insult to everything the two of you have overcome.  So with all your strength, you give your lover, the man who has come so far with you, the last look before letting out a final "I love you too" and burst out the door.

You don't look back, aching feet propelling you forward as tears continue to stream and fall off your face.  When you first met Dabi, you would have never thought you'd miss him.  But you will , you'll miss every snarky comment, every flirty glance, and the tender way only he has loved you.  The man that you were sure was just some asshole trying to get laid became the love of your life and sacrificed himself so you could live.  And you could never let that go to waste.

[secretlywritingstories]

I don’t like the term “social media detox” but a couple of times over the past few years, I have had periods where I like to turn off almost all of the notifications on my phone and refrain from opening social media. It’s not anything that I do with a set purpose, and the reasons have been a bit different every time.

For most parts, I like how I engage with social media and I like to think that I have an alright balance. I do spend a lot of time on tumblr both scrolling and meticulously tagging posts for my queue, and lately TikTok scrolling has kept me up late at night. I’ve got lots of post-notifications for people on both Twitter and Instagram, though I hardly scroll on those ever.

It’s not a lot but it is still a big portion. And then there’s the chats with (groups of) people in Messenger, Snapchat, WhatsApp and discord. Those are different because it’s my pals but it can still be a lot of notifications at time when my brain can feel a little overloaded. And I want to be able to reply! Chat back, instead of just swiping away the notifications and staying out of the conversation.

The last two months have required a fortitude of energy. Starting a new job is hard and I knew that but still damn. Trying to keep up with writing as well as changing positions and increasing hours was tough enough. It meant a lot of “free” play around time catching up on social media, videos and content got snagged away. It makes me feel out of the loop to skip over stuff I do want to keep up with.

So I think it’s good to recognise when a break is needed. A purposeful step back and not one where it feels like everything is spinning away from me faster than I can catch up. A breather, and a break from my usual daily routine. It coincides with a trip in a summer holiday home for a week, so that feels like it works out quite well.

A week on holiday with the family. No notifications. No checking up on tumblr, YouTube, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, VLIVE, WhatsApp, discord and Snapchat (damn, that’s so many apps).

I am bringing my Switch to play games and laptop to write, so it’s not like I’ll be necessarily taking away my screen time but I want to reduce it for a bit. Be outside more. Spend time with the dogs and my family. Read the actual physical book for the first time in years (shout out Turtles All the Way Down that I brought along).

Maybe I’ll cave and scroll a bit anyway. Or maybe it’ll be eight days of minimal social media. I do however know that I’ll miss tumblr and my mutuals on here quite a bit. But it’s not like either will go anywhere with just a week of silence. My queue is locked (and loaded) with over 500 posts, more than enough to fun 50 posts a day on the usual schedule, so perhaps no one will even notice my absence.

[maplecornia]

chapter 31

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1.26K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear |@mangminnie | @pixiekooo | @cana | @canarystwin

Opening the door to your apartment, you sigh.

It was a long day. The photoshoot lasted longer than you expected, and you didn't even get a chance to reprint your schedule. It was for the best though, you supposed. Namjoon didn't need you to do much of anything else besides assist him while he set up to get some work done.

Biting your bottom lip, you try not to feel guilty that you left him all alone. He said he needed no distractions, but you pray he doesn't pull an all-nighter. Knowing him, however...Glancing down at your phone, you wince at the week's schedule Mr. Sejin gave to you before leaving. He told you that getting a daily schedule would be tedious, and informed you that weekly schedules would be sent to you every Sunday.

As for this week...

They have hardly any free time, especially Namjoon. Filled to the brim with practices, photoshoots, and interviews...you can't imagine what it'd be like when promotions start. He really shouldn't be pulling all-nighters nowadays, he needs to rest now to prepare for the workload that will come his way.

You scoff.

Who are you kidding? Namjoon won't be likely to do that. He's the type to pour out every last of his waking spirit into his work. Even if you did go back to help, you'd probably be in the way. Not to mention the fact he wouldn't listen to a word you say.

Shaking your head, you wonder if your mother felt the same way when she was raising you.

Studying all night, practicing until your voice was sore or you couldn't dance anymore, pushing yourself to the very limit, preparing for your dream...

Swallowing hard, you push the thought out of your mind.

You don't have time for guilt.

Slipping out of your shoes, you advance, locking the door tightly behind you. In the corner of your mind, you wonder if Sunoh is sleeping already. Glancing at the clock, you roll your eyes. If he wasn't, he'd be crazy.

3 am already?

Reminds you of the times you would write till the wee hours of the morning. Creating countless stories and adventures, different worlds and different people, trying to find a way to escape when you had nowhere else to run. When was the last time you were inspired to even pick up a pencil much less write?

"I hate being alone." You murmur, rubbing your face. "I always think too much."

Setting your satchel on the counter island, you empty its contents and come across the contract. Freezing, you slowly pull it out and stare at it.

This is your dream.

So why are you hesitating?

Taking it to the table, you pull out a chair and carefully set it down.

It couldn't hurt to read through, could it?

You wonder why you are so afraid. What he did wasn't even something to be worried about. But when the one you cherish the most tells you you'll never make it, that you aren't talented enough...

He heard your voice and called it mediocre, amateur, and told you to find a new dream. Told you to give up on something you would never succeed at. Told you everything you worked so hard for was worthless. It was unrealistic, it wasn't worth trying.

You'd never make it anyway.

You weren't nearly as pretty enough to fit their standards.

You weren't perfect enough to pass their expectations.

You weren't made for the dream, so you shouldn't be given the chance to achieve them.

Groaning, you try to swallow the lump in your throat, you try to ignore everything you wish to hold back, but you can't.

How?

How could they see that you were worth something?

Obviously, you aren't worth that much, obviously, you aren't that special...

"Why are you hesitating?"

Remembering what Suga said, you wonder at the question yourself.

This is supposed to be your dream, you are supposed to hold onto it no matter what others tell you. No matter what people may think. It's something that's made to be eternal, that won't give up as long as you don't give up either.

Are you afraid?

"Yes. I'm terrified."

But why are you terrified? Why can't you forget the past?

"What if he's right? What if I'm not cut out for this?"

So are you afraid of what others think?

"No."

Then what is it?

You think of everyone who is counting on you, their high expectations. What they are risking for you. You think of the people who came before you, how hard they tried for this chance, just so they can achieve a dream they may never get. You think of your mother, who lost the very same dream and could never achieve it.

What is holding you back?

"What if I let them down?" you whisper softly, as a tear finally escapes its blockade and lands on the very same contract you've been holding in your hands.

You've dreamed of this. Receiving your first contract and signing with a company, ready to become a trainee, ready to be the singer; the performer you've always wanted. You've imagined the scenario in your head, acted it out many times over and over again. This was supposed to be a happy moment, the moment when all your hard work meant something. The moment when you finally took the next step towards your goal.

Inwardly, you want to scream in joy. You want to cry from happiness. But that fear, that blockade of terror, that is the one thing that holds you back.

What if when you finally let go, when you allow yourself to be happy again, it's ruined?

I gave everything to you.

"Shut up."

But you threw it away.

"Stop."

And for what? A dream that will never find its way out of your head?

"You're not here."

It's worthless hoping for something that can never happen.

"You don't know that."

Do you want to be worthless?

"You don't get to dictate my life."

Biting your lip, turn the final page of the contract, and find the dotted line. A line that will sign your life away. A line that holds every dream, every wish, every hope you've gathered in your small wish to be an idol. To sing on the stage, to perform and touch the world with your music.

Your world.

Finding a pen amongst the confines of your satchel, you put the tip gently to the paper and sign your name.

You smile once you do, and hold your hands to your face.

Letting out a small shriek, you let your excitement take control of your body and you allow the euphoric feeling of happiness to spread throughout you. You push back the feelings of doubt, the paralyzing helplessness of terror. For now, that doesn't matter. At this moment, those feelings aren't important.

Who cares about what's to happen in the future?

Would you rather be held back because of things you can't control?

No, this is your choice. This is your life.

You make the choice, no one else can make it for you.

At the harsh ringer of the phone, you jump. Startled, you turn to it from where it sits on the counter and check the caller ID.

One step at a time right?

That's all it takes to be okay again.

To move on.

Maybe it's time you talked to her.

Setting the pen down, you pick up your phone, taking a deep breath before accepting the call.

"Hi, Mom."

she finally called her mom! question, on a scale of 1-10 how angry would your guys' mom be if you ghosted her for this long? 0.o cuz mine would disown me for the longest time.

chapter 32 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

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[keelywolfe]

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.3 (BAON)

Summary:   Edge is heading back into work, but since when do his days ever go smoothly?

Tags: Spicyhoney, kustard, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was entirely too soon for him to be returning to work by Edge’s measure. Two days off after a kidnapping was a paltry concession and he would have preferred at least working from home for the rest of the week. The Embassy wasn’t particularly far from New New Home, but depending on traffic and stoplights, it could take nearly half an hour to drive between them, not including the time it took to get to his car.

Time enough for so many things to go wrong and for Stretch to be alone when it did.

But despite his preference, two mornings after he’d brought Stretch home, Edge was pulling into the Embassy parking lot and ignoring the shouts of the protestors on the other side of the street as he walked in, though he didn’t extend his cane until he was inside the front entrance.

The issue at hand was not with his employment. Stretch was the one all but pushing him out their front door and he’d done so with a massive spew of words coupled with wild gestures, all of which boiled down to him not needing a babysitter while he was at home.

Edge didn’t have the soul to argue with him about it, particularly since he was right. There were already enough new violations of his boundaries, and past experience taught that he would start to chafe under them soon enough. Perhaps it was already beginning; exhausted as he was, he’d still slept restlessly the night before and while Stretch often tossed and turned, this time it was enough to disturb Edge’s own sleep, his subconscious crying out that this was not a familiar level of thrashing.

He’d still been in bed when Edge left though not asleep, muttering something about heading down to his lab to check on his experiments. Edge hoped that he did; if he could get absorbed in his own version of mad science, it would be a good distraction for the day, one that was very much needed. Red was supposed to stop by at some point about the bodyguard assignment and while Edge asked his brother to wait for him to get home, there was no telling if he would. If he deemed Edge’s presence unnecessary, Red would do as he liked and to hell with waiting for his brother.

With that in mind, Edge’s plan was to work as swiftly as he could today without sacrificing accuracy so that he could leave on time, perhaps even early, in an effort to thwart anything Red might attempt for his own amusements. But as so often happened, plans had a way of changing and in very unexpected ways.

When he’d arrived at the Embassy that morning, he’d been hyperaware of the stares that followed behind him from the moment he came through the door. From the security guard at his station to the interns to the janitors, eyes and whispers lingered in his wake. Whatever hopes he’d had for discretion about the kidnapping incident were quickly dismissed; it was obviously the talk of the office though no one was bold enough to confront him about it directly. As Red often said, ‘the only way to keep a secret is if ya kill the guy who told ya’ and considering how many witnesses were at the bar that night when Stretch and Jeff were taken, that option was not exactly feasible, if it ever was.

The local news was plastered with stories, some sticking with the one provided by the Embassy and others filled with wild speculations. Monsters were hardly immune to gossip and Stretch often featured on both sides of the rumor equation.

As for his usual partner in crime, Jeff was taking the week off and Antwan with him, and while Edge could appreciate the urge to get back to some form of normalcy, he couldn’t help a twinge of jealousy to think the two of them were probably curled in bed together sleeping while he was fending off the glares of his co-workers.

He deliberately kept his limping pace normal on his way to his office, refusing to give the gossip any further fuel. That worked well enough until he went inside. Janice was already at her desk and she looked up when he entered, her long ears swiveling in his direction and her pink nose twitching as she gave him a narrow look.

He wondered if she was disappointed in him for coming in today. The thought made him want to look away from her direct gaze and he forced himself not to, saying crisply, “Good morning.”

But perhaps he was only projecting his own troubled thoughts because Janice only replied with a certain gentle concern, “Good morning. How is Stretch doing?”

Yes, the gossip traveled quickly, indeed. Edge hesitated, then said with cautious honesty, “He’s doing better.”

She nodded and didn’t press. Absently, she reached out to straighten the picture frame on her desk of her two children. Edge understood the impulse. “If you need anything, either of you, please do let me know.”

“I will,” Edge said. He meant it. Somehow in the past year their relationship had gone from a strictly working one to something akin to friends, a change that came about right around the time he’d married Stretch. Another way his love had changed his life for the better.

Still, it was a relief for her expression to change in a flash from motherly concern to businesslike briskness. “I’ve already emailed your agenda for the day, nothing particularly robust, but you do have a meeting in an hour with Toriel.”

“Toriel.” Edge blinked in surprise. Technically, Toriel didn’t work for the Embassy in a similar way to Stretch. She acted as Frisk’s guardian, and while she certainly handled things she likely shouldn’t at her own discretion, they were the diplomat, not her. What could she want to discuss that she couldn’t have come to their home?

He set his laptop case down and dug out his phone, opening the email app and scrolled to his daily agenda to scan the list. The schedule said only, ‘Meeting with Toriel, 10am’ and gave no clues. “Did she happen to say what it was about?”

Janice shook her head. “I’m afraid not, she only contacted and asked for an appointment. I couldn’t think of a reason not to, so I gave her the first available timeslot.” Her voice uplifted at the end, turning the statement into a question.

“Of course you should,” Edge said, belatedly, “I’m perfectly willing to talk with her. I’m simply confused as to why.”

Janice offered him a faint smile and raised eyebrows. “I suppose in an hour you’ll find out.”

“I suppose I will,” Edge sighed. He picked up his laptop and headed into his office, already considering whether to brave the gauntlet again for a cup of coffee or to relinquish is pride and ask Janice to retrieve one. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for any surprises and a meeting with the former Queen would likely offer them, in spades.

~~*~~

If there was one thing to appreciate about meeting with Toriel, it was her promptness. At precisely 9:59 am Janice buzzed him that she’d arrived.

Edge took a moment to drain the last of the lukewarm coffee from his cup, brought to him by Janice without any prompting from him, further proof of what an excellent assistant she was. He saved the document he was working on before he replied, “Send her in.”

He’d hardly finished speaking when his door opened, Toriel’s bulk filling the entryway. She had to duck her head to fit through the entrance, barely missing bumping her horns on the trim.

“Please, come in,” Edge said. He ignored his cane where it leaned against the side of his chair and instead walked cautiously as he came around it. He gestured to the sofa rather than the chairs at his desk; Toriel was not a small Monster, but his office was designed for visits with everyone, up to and including Asgore himself.

“Thank you,” Toriel said. Her voice was soft enough that it seemed one should strain to hear it, and yet it still carried clearly through the room. She seated herself where he’d indicated, folding her lightly furred hands into her lap.

Edge hadn’t spent a great deal of time with Toriel outside of Embassy functions and the few times he’d traveled along with the diplomats. Even then, he’d kept a cautious distance from her. Despite the small glasses perched on her muzzle, her soft purple dress and motherly cardigan she wore, as a Boss Monster, there was a certain aura of power that she carried that no casual outfit could stifle. Her status might be simply as Frisk’s guardian, but even Humans couldn’t fail to notice it. Adding in that Edge had no basis of comparison with her counterpart in Underfell, put simply, she made him faintly uncomfortable, despite the common interest in puns she shared with several members of his family.

“Would you like a drink?” He barely caught himself before asking if she’d care for tea, already knowing the answer to that. She and Stretch should be closer friends, they could bond over their mutual dislike of the King. “Water? Fruit juice?”

“Water would be lovely,” Toriel said. The words were merely polite, he sincerely doubted she’d come here for refreshments.

From the small fridge in the corner, he retrieved a bottle of water. He set it on a coaster rather than hand it to her and took the seat across from her, folding his hands into his lap in an unconscious mirror of hers. “What can I do for you?” Edge asked.

Without preamble, Toriel said, “You saved my child’s life, and mine.”

That was far from any topic he’d expected she wanted to discuss. If anything, he’d supposed she might wish for more personal information regarding the kidnapping and rather than trusting the gossips, she’d gone to a reliable source. That she might want to talk about their last meeting hadn’t even occurred to him.

The incident in California was not so long ago and yet, despite his lingering scars, the event itself had mostly left his mind. Yes, it was traumatic and yes, he’d certainly be feeling the aftereffects for some time. But it wasn’t his way to linger over such things; it happened, it was over, and now there was only to move onto introducing new safeguards to keep such a thing from happening again.

He considered Toriel’s statement with care before offering cautiously, “Anything I could do to keep you and your child safe, I was willing to offer.”

“I’m sure you were, and are.” Toriel’s eyes were a shade of red unlike his own eye lights. In a way, they were more like Red’s and his way of seeing things deeper than should be possible. “And I am willing to offer my own gift for that kindness. I’ve noticed your leg is still troubling you.”

Edge struggled against shifting uncomfortably, forcing himself not to look down at the leg in question. He was wearing the brace today as he always did in the office, not because he thought he particularly needed it, but due to his suspicions that Janice would discreetly tattle to Stretch if he didn’t. It was a tradeoff for leaving their strictly business relationship behind. “It’s healing, it simply takes time.”

“Indeed,” Toriel inclined her head in agreement. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll allow it. It wouldn’t begin to pay my debt to you but—”

“Your Highness,” Edge interrupted gently, “you don’t owe me anything. I’m well aware that you saved my life after the explosion.”

“I’m no longer the Queen, Toriel is fine,” Her interruption was less gentle and for one who claimed no title, her tone made him want to straighten his spine and come to attention, a habit he’d thought gone along with Underfell. “And your life wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t saved mine.”

“Toriel,” Edge said deliberately, “if you’re offering to heal me, I have a doctor, they’ve done as much with healing magic as they can.”

“I’m sure they have. Which is why I’m offering. My skills are somewhat more…” she hesitated, settling on, “Robust, than other Monsters.”

As a Boss Monster, that was surely true, and Edge couldn’t help considering it.

She’d used her magic on him before, and while that was an emergency, he could hardly protest her doing it again. And what she was offering was gift unlike any other. The opportunity to be healed, to be able to return to his normal activities was tempting to be sure, but what irritated more was his brother keeping him at arm’s-length during the kidnapping. If he’d been more capable, if his leg wasn’t slowing him down, would Red have forced him to stay home instead of allowing him to provide some real assistance? There was no way to tell now, but if he could keep it from happening in the future…?

But Edge also knew that things that seemed too good to be true often were and that there was little in life that came without some sort of price attached. He’d gotten such a gift from the Angel already, if one believed in such things, in the love given to him by Stretch. Asking for more seemed greedy.

Toriel only waited serenely, perhaps understanding his inner turmoil.

“There’s no chance this could have a negative effect,” Edge said slowly. “I’ve made a great deal of progress already, I won't have it set back."

“None at all,” Toriel assured him. “I wouldn’t offer if there was even a chance.” She shifted in her seat, briefly looking away as if his bookcases had suddenly caught her interest. “I would have offered sooner but you must understand, this sort of healing is very draining. If it got out I could do this, Monsters would be lining up at my door, begging for treatment.” She shook her head, her mouth pulling downward unhappily, and suddenly she seemed older and weary. “I can only do as much as I can.”

“I understand.” He did. It was the same reason they’d chosen to keep Monsters’ ability to heal from the Humans. There were limits to the care anyone could provide. Still, his immediate impulse to agree warred with his cautious reluctance. “Then why now?”

“Why not now?” Toriel countered. She spread her empty hands in something like a plea. “I can’t heal every Monster, but what point is it for me to have these gifts if I can’t use them to help someone who was injured by helping me? I owe you a debt, Edge, and I mean to pay it.”

The steel in her voice resonated and the determined need to repay a debt was certainly something he could understand. Edge straightened and inclined his head formally, “I accept your offer.”

A smile lit Toriel’s face and that melancholy fell away as she clapped her hands together like a child rather than the powerful, centuries-old Monster that she was. “Wonderful! Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

“Now?” Edge said, surprised. He’d expected her to need to make some preparations, perhaps arrange for a secret meeting someplace out of the way and not well watched. If there was such a place when one considered his brother.

But Toriel only nodded. “Oh, yes. It won’t take long.”

She rose from the sofa and crouched down next to him. A bit nonplussed, he helped her unbuckle the splint and remove it, and as always, there was a slight, uncomfortable twinge with its support gone. Worse was the awkward intimacy in the way she settled her hands on his leg, even over his trousers, her fingers shifting into precise positions as she closed her eyes and summoned her magic.

Edge had been healed before, too many times to count. Rarely in Underfell, healing there was usually scoffed at and often considered a weakness as it was a difficult skill for those with LV. But in this universe, Stretch, Blue, even Toriel herself had healed him in the past, little wounds mostly, except for California.

He hadn’t been in a position to pay attention the last time she’d used her magic on him, drifting in and out of consciousness, but here there was nothing to distract him. Her magical signature was a deft one, not the brusque force of his brother or familiar honeyed languidness of Stretch or even Blue, who managed to somehow be both forceful and nearly timid at the same time. The greenness of healing came at a delicate trickle at first, seeking and finding the places in his leg that still ached with cunning skill, sinking in. In tiny increments, that trickle became a flood, and then a torrent, and the sensation was indescribable. Not pain, that was far too simple a word, but the deep power that carried healing into his leg and further, seeking out his very essence. Edge shied away instinctively as it sought out his soul, trying to escape that implacable, almost ethereal touch, but it didn’t invade or violate, only swirled briefly through his ribcage in a sort of greeting before returning to the task at hand, or rather, at leg, before it slowly withdrew into empty nothingness.

Edge opened his sockets, hardly aware of closing them, to see Toriel closing her own eyes as she wobbled on her feet, sinking back to sit on the floor with her legs tucked under her and her skirt demurely covering them.

“Your Highness,” Edge said in concern. He reached for her automatically, hesitating before touching her. Even though his gloves he could still feel the aura of roused magic surrounding her.

She opened her eyes. “Toriel,” she corrected with a slight smile, waving his hands away. She retrieved the bottle of water from the table, opening it and taking a long drink, then sighed out, “I’m fine. How are you?”

In answer, Edge stood, striding across the room and back again. The lingering weakness and frustrating ache of the past weeks were entirely gone. The urge to tests his limits was strong and he wondered giddily what anyone would make of it if they caught him racing up and down the stairwell with his coattails flapping behind him.

As if reading his thoughts and perhaps she was to some extent, they wouldn’t be difficult to guess, Toriel cautioned, “I suggest you wear the brace for a little longer. It might keep the curious from asking questions.”

Edge was about to agree, then amended it, “I won’t lie to Stretch. If he asks.”

To his surprise, Toriel let out of a peal of soft laughter and shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry about that. He’ll know the moment he sees you.”

That he hadn’t expected and Edge could only stare at her, aghast, “What?

Her smile turned incredulous. "You have my magic clinging to you, do you truly think he won't notice? Papyrus of all people?"

He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that and he wished he'd known before he agreed. Well, it was too late to change anything now, wasn’t it, and that was a meal he’d have to swallow when it came to the table.

Belatedly, he realized Toriel was attempting to climb up from the floor and he hastily leaned down to help. Her weight was easily triple his own but between the two of them, they managed to get her back on her feet.

“Well!” Toriel said with a soft sigh as she dusted off her dress. “I’ll leave you to your duties, then. I need to get back to Frisk, they have a meeting this afternoon with the Prime Minister of Japan, and I wanted to brush up on the agenda.”

“Yes, of course, your—Toriel,” Edge correctly hastily. He couldn’t help flexing his knee again, still giddy with the pain-free movement of the joint. “Thank you, Toriel. This means a great deal to me, past simply healing.” She’d already turned to the door and paused, turning back to him.

There was a certain familiar impishness to her smile as she said, “If you truly wanted to thank me, you could try calling me Tori.”

In answer, Edge only bowed deeply to her and said, sincerely, “I’m afraid the attempt would be too much for me and might undo all the damage you healed. I would hate to be the cause of ruining all your hard work.”

Her soft laughter washed over him in a gentle wave and she shook her head. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we.” Her amused expression shifted to seriousness, “And Edge? Anything I could do to help you, I was willing to offer.”

Edge inclined his head in wry acknowledgement and with a last smile, she went out the door, leaving him alone in his office. Alone with his leg in perfect working condition and itching to be used.

A jog up the stairs might be out of the question, but there was no reason he couldn’t walk down to get another cup of coffee. With the brace on for now, and by next week? Perhaps he could risk going without, at least in the morning, if the stares died down by then. Time would tell.

He sat down to strap the blasted thing back on, its lack of necessity making it all the more annoying.

Soon, he told himself, soon.

Despite the events of the past few days, Edge felt lighter than he had in weeks. He only hoped Stretch’s reaction would be as pleased as his own.

Once the brace was properly on, Edge retrieved his cup from his desk and went down the hallway to the breakroom to fill it, giving Janice’s curious glance a sedate nod and careful to keep his steps slow and measured so as to not rouse any suspicions.

On the leg brace he would concede, an annoying necessity to be sure. But the cane? That, he left behind.

tbc

[damn-stark]

Dreadful summer nights

Chapter 8 of Different Light

A/N- I hope you guys liked it :) I can’t wait to write more!! Let me know what y’all thought?!

Warning- SLOWBURN, fluff

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Summer.

Summer was and has been completely dreadful. There's been nothing to do and nowhere to go beside the corridors of your own home, the garden, and Draco’s bedroom to pester him.

With your father out all day and sometimes all night, and with Narcissa defiant not to leave home without him, you've been stuck at home. Just bored, sitting on a reading chair with your legs on the headrest and your head dangling off the edge of the chairs cushion, throwing a green apple up in the air and catching it before it hits you.

That’s how it’s been all summer long. Well that and beside the letters—

“It’s that Potter boy again, he was attacked by Dementors today.”

You gasp at the sound of your fathers voice echoing from the entrance and instantly stop what you’re doing, forgetting in that quick action about the green apple you had thrown in the air until it fell back down to hit you in the face. “Ow.”

“Did he send them?”

Very quietly you twist your body around to sit up straight—as if that was going to do anything to make you hear better. Regardless you also do it because you didn’t want to be caught sitting improperly.

“No, but perhaps someone else did. But because of the attack he had to use magic in front of a muggle and break the breach of underage sorcery. He should be expelled from Hogwarts, but that’s still to be determined.”

You're quick to your feet after the rest of the news and instantly get drowned in worry for said boy and find the need to check on him the best way you could. You hardly even think to hear more of the news, if there was more, that instant just made your mind race to Harry; and that was your motivation to race to your room, slowing down just as you passed Narcissa and your father to greet him. “Hello, father!”

His head turned to follow you up the stairs and quickly come at you with a response. “Where are you going in such a hurry? You didn’t even have time to greet me properly.”

You sigh out heavily through your nose and stop in your tracks to trail back towards your father, offering him a quick smile before giving him a peck on the cheek. “Hello papa, it’s good that you’re home.”

“Hmm, go along now, but come back for dinner.”

You show him a beaming grin and then spin on your heels to retrace your steps back to your room, double checking the hall before closing your door, so that Draco wasn’t being sneaky and trying to find any dirt on you to go tell father.

Once you’re on your desk chair, you proceed to sit quickly and clumsily get out a small piece of parchment and a quill to write to Harry.

Dear, Harry,

I’ve heard the news of what happened to you, and I couldn’t wait until we returned to school to have to check on you, so I’m sending you another letter this week.

The way I heard the news was in the matter of eavesdropping so I don’t know much, but I think I know enough. I hope you’re doing okay, I’ve never faced Dementors, but I know you have so that’s keeping me from thinking the worst. if you have the chance to write back, do so as soon as you can with news of your well-being, or else I think I won’t sleep with the worry that’ll grow.

And maybe to ease your own worry, I also do have hope you’ll return to school, they can’t expel you for something that wasn’t your fault. So remain hopeful Harry. If you want more updates on what the ministry thinks, remember that you can always ask me and I’ll get whatever information I can from what I can hear.

Lastly to not make this any longer, good job! As unfortunate as it is, today’s attack was your second time defeating them, so I think that deserves some recognition!

With love, your friend, Y/N Malfoy.

Forcing yourself to leave this letter short, you end it before you could write a whole essay, rolling it up as small as you could and walking to your open window to attach it to your eagle-owl Athena. “I know I can always count on you girl, so please take this letter to Harry as fast as you can. And remember, remain undetected.”

Athena voices a soft ‘oohu’ before leaning in so you’d pet the top of her head before she flew off to do as she was asked; disappearing into the darkening, sweet smelling evening. Leaving you to wait, and wait for what seemed hours. Having to distract yourself with going down to dinner, but hardly even being able to concentrate on what was talked about around the table as your mind only worried for that awaited reply.

And before, in days, weeks and the few months that passed this summer, after Harry sent his first letter to you and you sent one back, that cycle started, you waited for a reply after you sent a letter. Yet the anticipation was never so deeply developed as it was today. Before you could wait to hear back from him, after all you didn’t want to raise suspicion, but today was different, this letter contained important matters that couldn’t wait for some other time. You wanted answers. And yet they took forever to arrive. Not until almost midnight as you were falling asleep on your desk chair.

And once the news thankfully did arrive, you ran the fastest you had ever done to meet your owl, almost ripping the letter attached to her leg.

Y/N,

You’re always so kind, so to put you at ease, I’m alright. My cousin Dudley, not so much though.

Regardless, thank you for believing in me, it seems from the past couple letters I’ve received today that no one has.You’re the first one to even congratulate me on winning against dementors in fact, so thank you, I appreciated that.

It seems that's all I have been saying to you all summer though.

But that’s because you’re the only person I’ve really talked to.You’re the only person who ever writes me with more than just a few bleak sentences.You’ve become a true friend to me and again I appreciate it.

And regarding your offer to help inform me with the news about myself, I’d like that. But if at any time it gets too hard just leave it as it is, okay?

I’ll hopefully see you when we return to school.

Harry.

A relieved smile grows on your face and you sit back in your chair and fold the letter back up to tuck it safely with the rest of his and Fred’s letters.

Now with that worry done with, all you had to worry about was what else you could hear. Which at the end of the day wasn’t a lot. The daily prophet seemed to be for once oblivious on news regarding Harry Potter, nothing new was reported, nothing about his attack, or the aftermath of the attack. All the news you received was from your father, but that too wasn’t a lot. You tried to get more news from Harry, but that end was cut off. The three days following the events, you tried to report to him with the little things you heard, but Athena returned with your same letter untouched. You tried the next day, but that too was returned.

It was odd.

All you had to rely on now was your father.

“So, father, what's on the news on Harry Potter's trial?” You ask innocently.

“I hope he gets expelled and has time in Azkaban.” Draco interjects with a smug grin.

You shoot a discreet glare before looking back at your father who remained serious. “Harry Potter, did not get expelled, nor did he get time in Azkaban,”

At the news you express a soft relieved sigh and take a sip of your drink to hide the fact that you were smiling.

“He will continue going to school because his charges were cleared.”

Draco scoffs and grips tightly onto his fork. “But he broke the law, he should be punished.”

“Should’ve. But Dumbledore was at his side.”

Your eyes study them both before you shift your gaze down to your food and add a daring comment before taking a bite of your food. “Well, I don’t think that would be fair, he was attacked, he was simply defending himself. How would you like it if you got put in a cell because you defended yourself, Draco?”

All three pairs of eyes flew to you at the sound of your comment and silence overtook the dining table for a moment. When you looked up you simply shrugged while you swallowed the food in your mouth.

Once Draco fully understood your comment he scoffs again and doesn’t think much of the comment. “Well I think, Potter, just summoned the dementor and then attacked it because he knew everyone would talk about it. He just wanted more popularity.”

Your gaze narrows on your brother and you set your fork down to argue. “You really think that? You think he summoned those horrible monsters just to gain popularity?”

“Yes.” Draco shrugs with his smug smile glued to his face.

Just as you’re about to shoot back, you’re interrupted by your father. “And does it matter if he, or did not summon them himself, y/n? He’s below us and shouldn’t be a topic that has you arguing with your brother.”

You swallow thickly and lower your gaze as you offer him one small nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Regardless. Kids how would you both like it if next summer instead of coming home you two went out of the country on a nice vacation?” Narcissa finally gets to interject with her voice sounding a bit shaky.

Both Draco look at her and then meet each other’s gaze for a brief moment, both finding it strange that she would suggest it, Narcissa was always so eager to see you both return from school, especially during the summer since your stay at home lasted longer than two weeks. She hardly liked being apart from either of you, it was at times overbearing, but it was at times also sweet. So her suggesting for the both of you to leave without having the chance to see her was completely off putting. “But—”

“Narcissa, we’ve talked about this,” your father cuts you off, “they’re not little children anymore. They won’t escape the reality of what we’re facing, they’re not cowards.”

“But they’re children, our children. I can’t let them fight for him, Lucius. They’re just children.”

“And we’re also Malfoys, how would it look like if they just ran away? They have to make this family proud.”

Once again, just like many times this summer after the dark lord returned, you’ve found Narcissa and your father arguing more than you’ve ever heard them argue. Usually always about the same topic, Draco and you. Which always leads to the both of you walking away where you couldn’t hear them.

This time is no different, you look to Draco to meet his gaze and point your head to the hall so he’d follow as you both quietly stood from your chairs and slipped away. Walking in silence until nothing was heard but each other’s footsteps inside the corridors of your dimly lit halls.

“They can’t seem to stop arguing.” Draco says in a much less smug voice than what he used moments ago.

You look to your side to see his shoulders were low and his eyes were unfocused. “Yeah, but they’ll stop soon. Once they come to an agreement.”

Draco manages a soft scoff and feigns to be more confident than he currently looked. “Well I can decide for them, I'll work with the dark lord like father, I’m ready.”

This time you scoff and raise your brow at him. “You are?”

“Yes, just like you.”

Your eyes instantly fly to him and you frown. “I’m not ready.” Draco looks at you and his confidence falters. “I don’t want to be a death eater, I agree with our mum.”

Draco’s lips part and he stays quiet for a brief second, he balls his fists and his eyebrows furrow as he glares at the ground before stepping out into the garden. Not daring to look at you as he tried to argue. “You’re scared. Just like her. But we’re not kids anymore.”

“She’s worried.” You correct him. “It’s okay to be scared, Draco, none of it is easy.”

Draco puts his hands in his pants pockets and looks to the hedges ahead that were lit by the lamps above, he tries to hide the fact that he was scared, that the topic of the dark lord scared him, but you were no fool, you could see right through him.

“So what are you going to run?”

“Not without you.”

Draco’s eyes snap to you and his gaze narrows on you, his lips twitch, but he’s quick to hide any sort of indication of a smile by looking away and simply continuing with his stubbornness. His reaction however makes you smile and playfully hit his shoulder with yours before adding one last bit and finishing with that topic already. “If you go, I go. Simple as that. Just because we may fight doesn’t mean I won’t have your back, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Draco rolls his eyes, making you smile wider.

——

It felt exciting being back on the train that went to Hogwarts, it felt exciting being away from home and finally getting to reunite with your friends and Fred; with Harry. You had been counting the hours since you had woken up until you would finally get here. That feeling was so strange since when you would go to Durmstrang you dreaded waking up to head to school.

Now you can't think of anything better. Hogwarts truly felt like a home away from home.

When you had gotten on the train albeit, since Draco had no recollection of all the torment from last year, it was hard convincing him that you were okay sitting somewhere else that wasn’t near him. As tough as he acted, he liked having you around, he liked showing you off like a proud brother. It was admirable, but you've been apart from your friends for too long and stuck inside a house with Draco for longer. Plus he loathed your friends, he didn’t know it was those friends you were saving a compartment for and he didn’t need to know. You’d deal with that headache later.

Now you counted the minutes—

Before you could finish your thought, a sudden loud crack goes off in front of you, making you jump off your seat and look to the spot where the noise originated from, to see two redheads suddenly in front of you with happy, mischievous grins on their face. “Malfoy!”

You hold onto your chest after your yelp and glare at them both, forgetting the greeting you and planned for them. “Well that just answered my question.” You say through gritted teeth.

“What no welcoming hug, or a happy smile for your best friends?” George remarks sarcastically, trying his hardest not to smile at your still frightened state.

You close your book and shake your head. “No, that was thrown out the window the moment you both chose to scare me.”

Fred chuckles and takes a seat beside you, wrapping his arm around you and continuing to tease you. “We saw you through the window while we were walking to the train,”

“And thought we’d show off the fact that we can apparate now.” George finishes as he sits at your other side.

You roll your eyes. “Show offs.”

Both brothers just grin and you continue to look at both, noticing the change in their appearance. You grin brightly and stand to get a better view. “You two got hair-cuts!”

“Yeah,” Fred says, beginning to smugly brush his fingers through his hair.

“We thought you’d never notice.” George continues.

“Well they look great, they suit you both.”

“But who pulls it off the best?” George asks, “be honest. And no pity votes for your boyfriend, now.”

Fred scoffs and shrugs. “It’s not a pity vote if she likes it better on me. Now, darling choose.”

Your eyes drift to both Fred and George for a brief moment before a smirk tugs on your lips and you simply shrug. “Like I said, I like them on the both of you. I won’t choose.”

Fred and George groan and just as they’re going to protest, three others come into the compartment. Your smirk falters and a smile threatens to show as you see Harry walk in after Ron and Hermione.

“Y/N!” Hermione greets excitedly, instantly throwing her arms around you. You return the embrace and her bright smile.

“Hello, Hermione, it’s so good seeing you again.”

“You too,” Hermione breaks away and walks back to sit beside Ron. “I was excited to see you, I hope your summer went well.”

“It went...okay,” you scoff, sitting back down in between the twins and focusing on Harry. “Hi Harry.”

Harry’s distant gaze looks away from the window and lands on you, seeming to take some time to really grasp who he was seeing until several minutes passed. “Y/N, hi.” A blush grows on his cheeks and he shifts in his seat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t write back if you sent me a letter after my last one, but I was well, busy with my trial and all.”

“Oh,” you wave off, “I understand, I imagined so. But didn’t I tell you; I knew you were going to return to school. I should’ve bet on it.” You grin, unknowingly catching everyone off guard with your conversation with Harry. “Are you okay, though?”

Harry hesitates, but he chooses to nod. Not really convincing you, but not leaving you a chance to follow up on his hesitation. “Yeah, I’m okay now. Are you? I mean, I remember you mentioned about your father and Narcissa arguing all the time.”

Your eyes widened at his comment and they briefly flicker to Fred; who you hadn’t mentioned about your father, or Narcissa arguing in your letters during the summer. You didn’t mean to leave it out and leave him in the dark when he would ask if everything was fine, but it just felt easier to talk about that with Harry.

With Fred, well it was all lighthearted and fun, while with Harry...well it could be the same, but it was also more serious. It just wasn’t the same.

“Oh,” you try to brush his comment off smoothly, “yeah, I’m fine.”

You avert your gaze and look to Hermione and then twins. Choosing to leave the letter talk for some other time and focusing instead on her and the twins the rest of the way to Hogwarts.

——

“Good evening children!” Dumbledore greets as he takes his usual spot by the podium, making you take your last bite of food before giving him your wavered attention. “Now we have two changes in staffing this year. We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who’ll be taking care of magical creatures while Professor Hagrid is on temporal leave. Now, we also wish to welcome our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dolores Umbridge. And I’m sure you’ll all join me in wishing the Professor good luck.” He pauses for everyone to clap before continuing, “as usual our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me—”

The sudden sound of a very squeaky clearing of the throat catches your attention, just like it had with the rest of the students. Where there had been some murmurs here and there, now there was total silence at the sound of the new professor in all bubble gum pink suddenly, and surprisingly interrupting Professor Dumbledore. It makes your curiosity heighten and your head raise so you could see her fully standing up from chair and begin to walk to the podium.

“Thank you Headmaster for those kind words of welcome.” She softly says. “And how lovely to see all your bright, happy faces smiling up at me...”

You scoff and pinch your eyebrows at her absurd and daring assumption.

“I’m sure we’re all going to be very good friends.”

Your eyebrows raise and a smirk appears on your lips as you try hard not to laugh, feeling the twins lean back towards you from their spots in their assigned table to both simultaneously add a sarcastic remark that made you snicker. “That’s likely.”

Albeit at the quiet and private comment the twins made, the pink lady looks to the three of you and shoots you a glare, whilst her smile that she carried seemed to have more hatred behind it than her actual glare. “The ministry of magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be a vital importance. Although each headmaster has brought something new to this historic school, process for the sake of process, must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected and prune practices that ought to be prohibited.” Professor Umbridge ends her speech with a giggle before walking back to her seat, letting you grin and lean back towards the twins to add one last comment regarding her.

“Well this year ought to be fun.”

The twins lean back and even if you couldn’t see it, they both smirked as they both simultaneously respond, “wickedly fun.”

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @peter-laufeyson , @swiftlymoniquesblog , @spideyyypeter , @gsvshsjsbs, @accio-prozac , @cherriesanwine , @kokomaesadie , @april-14-blog , @prettypinkpeachh , @pest-ill-ence , @ilovespideyyy , @m3ssytrash , @hogwarts-babe-blog , @yodaboo

[imnotwolverine]

Nerdflirt

Henry Cavill x reader twoshot (1/2)

Word count: 2.768

Disclaimer: tiny, tiny hint of fluff

Summary: There’s apparently a bit more involved than just paint and innocent flirting, when you meet a stranger on Instagram with a shared hobby. 

Find the second part here.

This story is based on a prompt I received from @aestheticqueenb

(Link to my Masterlist)

‘Maybe, you can like…I don’t know…find some new hobby or something?’

Your friend had said it more as an after thought during your Zoom chat, but here you were. Thinking yet again if she was perhaps right. A new hobby. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to find some diversion in these strange times. Like. You had ordered some of these picture paint books for adults since they were all the rage, but you had grown bored of them again.

Heck. You had even asked your boss if you could help him out while stuck at home. But apparently the restaurant business was really on its ass and you’d just have to wait for things to settle down and regulations to become less restricting.

This whole COVID-19 thing had initially seemed like a bit of a fad. Like some sick joke that nobody stopped at the right time. It was just a fever, right? Well, apparently…it wasn’t. You could still remember the moment all too well when you were sent home, told to wait for news. Hours passed. Days passed. Weeks passed. But there was no sign of things soon to improve.

And thus you resorted to adult colouring books and sulking away on your desk chair.

Stretching out you pushed the chair away from your desk, the tiny wheels immediately halting as you bumped against your bed. Oh yes, it was also good to mention you were slowly losing your mind because your studio apartment was SOO friggin’ small you couldn’t stretch as much as a foot without bumping into a piece of furniture.

Not a problem when you have a social life. But very much a problem when you hadn’t. Usually you worked a lot, went out with friends, enjoyed to go for a run. And home? Home was just a conveniently placed bed in the middle of London.

Now, however, it was a constricting prison that seemed to strip away your sanity piece by piece.

As had become second nature by now you opened your phone, fingers automatically refreshing the front news page. Scroll, scroll, scroll. No new news. Then your e-mail. No new e-mails. Then perhaps look for some “inspiration” - whatever you needed that for - on Pinterest? Scroll, scroll, scroll. Okay, no, this is dumb. Going back to the mainscreen your thumb hovered over the Instagram button. 

You honestly didn’t like the app much. Fake people. Fake fun lives. It just wasn’t your cuppa tea. And yet you never got so far as deleting it since you did enjoy seeing baby pictures of your baby niece.

Okay, fine, maybe there were some new pictures or something. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do and so you opened the app, only to be confronted with a somewhat confusing image. What’s this? A large pair of hands painting an absolutely tiny polystyrene figurine. Why is this on your timeline? Your eyes gazed up, even more confused when you read the name “Henry Cavill” above it. Pfft. Probably some attention whoring from another bored superstar. You shook your head and scrolled on, eventually giving up again.

You groaned, feeling the abyss of utter boredom suck you in once more, your eyes wandering to the world outside. It was sunny, a spotless blue sky, not a cloud in sight. Hilarious, ain’t it? It’s nice weather out in the UK and guess what? You’re stuck inside because the whole world is in lockdown.

So…now what? You just had lunch, your apartment was pristinely clean and you already went for a run this morning. You sighed and turned your chair back so you could awaken your trusty old friend again. Your laptop. Perhaps Google something random? See what you find? The internet’s your friend, right?

Open. Google. 

You bit your lip, thinking of something. Anything. But your mind was a blank.

Hmm. Oh. You know what. Maybe it’d be fun to know what kind of fake nerd Henry Cavill actually was.

You opened Instagram again and, of course, his post was back on the top of the timeline. It was almost too easy. #GamesWorkshop #ProperGeek #Custodes. Hmm, probably one of those three tags were the secret. You decided to enter “custodes”, since it sounded the least familiar and hit enter.

Before long you had dived head first into the miraculous world of Warhammer miniature strategy boardgaming and the most ludicrous, but fascinating lore. There was a medieval variant, a sci-fi variant and some ancient Rome and English civil war stuff. All including a well-thought out background story and even more figurines then you could count. Pretty cool figures too, you thought, haphazardly clicking on “order” while scrolling through one of the webshops.

Like it contained some kind of bomb, the mailman sprinted off, leaving the small package behind while you opened your door. Fuck this corona crisis. You couldn’t even..greet the fucking mailman.

Picking up the package you carefully moved it to your desk. Would they be fragile? How tiny could tiny really be? There was only one way to find out, you decided, picking up a pair of scissors and cutting open the small brown box.

Well. Okay. That’s tiny. Tiny tiny tiny. Perhaps you had been a bit too over enthusiastic about just randomly picking up a new hobby. Like..did you even need like special paint for this? Carefully you placed the kit sheets with the hundreds of tiny pieces in them on your desk and bit your lip, deciding what you’d do next. Tiny heads, guns, wings, all stuck in a meticulously thought out grid. Where to start? Perhaps look for some inspiration? Tips and tricks?

The internet is your friend.

Silly as it was you ended up scrolling through Instagram again, this time on the profile of some “SirEltharin” who posted daily updates on his miniature painting. And just like you, he had bought the Retributor Squad from the Adepta Sororitas, the all-female fighter division that were also known as “The Sisters of Battle”. Just thinking how ridiculous that sounded made you chuckle. Were you a nerd too now? Perhaps.

He just posted something new you noticed.

‘These ladies are hard to tame! Oops, painting accident..’ He posted, along with a picture of some smudged paint on one of the figurines. You chuckled, commenting without much of a second thought.

LadyGrim - ‘Well at least you started..I just can’t get myself to paint :X’ - 1 minute ago SirEltharin - ‘No need to be Grim, good Lady. What’s keeping you from starting?’ - 2 seconds ago

Hmm. He responded immediately. A smile reached the corners of your lips as you shrugged and typed again.

LadyGrim - ‘Painters limbo? No honestly it’s my first set and I’m out of my depth here.’ - 2 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘Well if large male hands can do it. Surely a Lady can do it too? ;)’ - 30 seconds ago

LadyGrim - ‘Size can be deceiving.’ - 2 seconds ago

Your eyes rested on the screen for a bit, hoping he’d respond, but eventually giving up. Your eyes turned towards the sheets with the figurine parts on the other side of your desk.

Welp, it’s not like anyone could judge you for trying, right?

You painted that whole day, finding it nerve wrecking and meditative all at the same time. You hadn’t even noticed that it was past dinner time, until your stomach really started to growl with hunger.

After cooking yourself a simple pasta dish you sat back on your desk chair, forking the pasta into your mouth while opening your phone to check on any news updates. No news. Mail. No mail. Pinterest? Skip. Instagram. Heck, why not.

*New message from SirEltharin* Hmm. A private message. You didn’t even know that you could send private messages in Instagram, but alas, perhaps you were just a failed millennial.

SirEltharin - ‘Hey :) Guess what? I totally screwed up that figurine and have to do it all over again. Started any painting yet?’ - 2 hours ago

LadyGrim - ‘Perhaps you gave me all your good luck? Just started and..maybe..it actually starts to look pretty cool?’ - 2 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘Which one did you start with?’ - 2 seconds ago

Damn, guess it wasn’t just you who was bored to bits. This guy was one fast responder.

LadyGrim - ‘The one with the book? At least, I think…. So many parts..’

SirEltharin - ‘Yea. Requires a bit of strategising hehe. Besides..holy fervour and good faith!’

LadyGrim - ‘So why did you chose the sisters? You’re a guy right?’

SirEltharin - ‘And that’s a problem? ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘No..’

SirEltharin - ‘Honestly though. They’re cool. Strong women.’

LadyGrim - ‘Who got betrayed by the man they promised to serve.’

SirEltharin - ‘Ah you read the lore? Yea..men are dicks haha ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘Can’t agree more.’

You back and forthed throughout the evening. Starting off with some Warhammer 40k related banter, but soon drifting off to talking about the Corona lockdown and the boredom that came with it. SirEltharin didn’t let off a whole lot about himself, which made your imagination run a little wild.

Perhaps it was this “milady” type of guy, that’d tip his hat at you, then grow annoyed as soon as you didn’t immediately fall in love with him. Or, maybe it was this skinny pimple-faced guy who only ever played female characters in games. Or a really, really fat guy. He did say large male hands. Large…could be fat? Or at least chubby? Ugh. What did it matter anyways. Men, you had decided, were always going to disappoint.

SirEltharin - ‘Hey, just curious by the way. Why did YOU decide to start painting?’

LadyGrim - ‘Are you asking just because I’m a girl? ;)’

SirEltharin - ‘Hardly. What do you even think of me?! ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘Okay. Don’t call me an idiot. But this movie star, Henry Cavill? He posted an image and though I absolutely think he’s one of those fake nerd celebrities who are in it for the attention, it did get me interested in the figurines..so..I just ordered and..here I am!’

He stopped responding after that. For the rest of the night. Did you say something wrong or did he just not see your message? Ah..whatever. It didn’t really matter. He was just some stranger on the internet. You started Netflix and crawled onto your bed, wasting away another evening bingewatching How I Met Your Mother.  

The next morning he had responded again. Around 5 am. Damn. Nerds ARE night owls, you thought, sipping your freshly brewn cup of french pressed coffee while leaning against your tiny kitchen block.

SirEltharin - ‘Can’t really say that without knowing him, right?’ - 3 hours ago

SirEltharin - ‘Anything in particular wrong with Henry Cavill?’ - 2 hours ago

LadyGrim - ‘Woa woa. No harm meant. Sorry. Guess I just don’t trust ‘em pretty boys?’ - 3 minutes ago

SirEltharin - ‘How’s that so? And good morning, Lady ;)’ - 2 seconds ago

You bit your lip and let out a deep sigh. Oh this man didn’t know what hellfire could come his way, opening THAT topic.

LadyGrim - ‘Good morning ..and..I doubt you’d be interested.’

SirEltharin - ‘You had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.’

LadyGrim - ‘Fine. Let’s just keep it plain and simple. Lied to, cheated on and continuously disappointed. Guess I’ll just have to become a lesbian?’

SirEltharin - ‘Don’t let a few bad ones ruin it for the rest of us. Has it been long?’

LadyGrim - ‘Long?’

SirEltharin - ‘Apologies. I mean. Since you last dated?’

LadyGrim - ‘A year or so.’

SirEltharin - ‘And how old are you? Or am I being too bold asking such a thing?’

LadyGrim - ‘It’s fine. Thirty. Had my birthday two weeks ago. So yea..becoming a bit of an old spinster hehe.’

SirEltharin - ‘Belated happy birthday and..hardly a spinster, right? I mean. I’m 37 and haven’t found anyone yet. Heck. I guess I’m the old spinster here haha.’

LadyGrim - ‘I doubt the same rules apply for men.’

SirEltharin - ‘Trust me. We are all judged.’

Weeks passed and you and Sir kinda started to really get to know each other. You both lived in London - how practical -, were pretty enthused about sports, liked dogs (he had one, you wished you had one) and were close knit with your family. You with your sister, who already had a few kids. And he with his brothers. All with kids. Teasingly you donned each other the nicknames ‘Uncle and Aunty Spinster’.

You knew he had looked on your account. Seen some pictures of you. Even made a few comments on them and liked everything new you posted. But he, SirEltharin, remained mostly a mystery. You tried to talk yourself out of your curiosity, but couldn’t help but lay in bed fantasising about him. The only body part you had seen of him to this point were his hands, and they were actually quite pretty hands. Well manicured nails, strong fingers. It meant he probably wasn’t SUPER fat. So. That’s something.

Eventually the COVID-19 related regulations were becoming less restrictive and for the first time in months you could go back to work. The very news had made you both reluctant - you liked this new rhythm of painting and chatting with SirEltharin -, but also happy. Finally getting out of your tiny apartment, finally getting back to work. It may require some getting used to again, but this was just what you really needed.

In your enthusiasm you posted a picture on Instagram of your work outfit as it lay neatly spread out on your bed sheets. Your boss had made some quirky shirts to celebrate the reopening of the restaurant: “Brunello’s back” was written in fancy white lettering on the back of the shirt. You giggled as SirEltharin liked it within a split second.

SirEltharin - ‘Back to work hmm?’

LadyGrim - ‘Yep. Its all fun and games until the rat race starts again.’

SirEltharin - ‘Sounds Grim ;)’

LadyGrim - ‘You know me too well Sir. Anyways gotta go. Bye!’

SirEltharin - ‘See ya.’

See ya. You always thought it weird when strangers said that at the end of an online chat. Clients sometimes said it at the end of a phone reservation. That was understandable though; they were to come to the restaurant. But complete strangers? There was no such thing as “seeing you around”. However in the case of SirEltharin you were willing to let it slip. He probably didn’t think anything of it.

For a first night it was already quite hectic at Brunello’s. The room, although still far less bustling than usual, was filled. People were obviously eager to pick up their social lives again, the animated chatter of guests zooming around the room while you paced past the neatly spaced white clothed tables. Brunello’s was a rather luxurious restaurant and mostly businessmen and well-to-do families and friends came here to wine and dine. Tonight was special though, as a few celebrities were sitting in the far corner. Including a familiar face: Mr. Cavill, your eyes immediately falling on him as he seemingly was giving you a questioning look.

Perhaps he just wanted to order some drinks, you thought, halting next to the table and offering them your most kind, professional smile - ignoring the curious pair of blue eyes that tracked your every move.

‘Good evening and welcome to Brunello’s. Is there anything I can help you with?’ You spoke, the sentence fluently tipping of your tongue, your eyes wandering slowly over the guests. Most of them were unfamiliar to you. And Mr. Cavill..you tried to just not give him any attention as he was still burning his eyes into you.

‘We actually could use some advice on the wine. We’d like to start white, slightly fruity, perhaps French? Though the Italian one also sounds quite nice.’ A small blonde woman spoke, peering over her menu card.

As this was not your expertise, you called for the sommelier, stepping back to make room for him. And all the while you felt those eyes, gazing at you, almost brazenly. What was up with this Mr. Cavill? Or did you maybe have something funny on your face and did nobody dare to tell you? Shyly you excused yourself, leaving the guests in the capable hands of the sommelier, and quickly made for the women’s bathroom to check your face. 

There was nothing out of sort when you looked into the mirror. Strange. 

Peeking quickly on your phone, a habit when you were alone, you noticed a new message popping up on your Insta-chat.

SirEltharin - ‘I think we need to talk.’ - 30 seconds ago

--

Go to part 2

[lizallanapologist]

The problematic behavior of Tomdaya stans; a thread

Some of you might not be aware of the stalkerish problematic stuff tomdaya stans have done with Tom and Zendaya’s life but it’s gotten to the point where Tom’s own brothers protect with big scrutiny every single female in Tom’s life because they fear they’re going to get bullied or harassed. This is not OK and this has to stop so we’re exposing their toxic behavior. 

This is only to bring awareness and we do not condom any hate or death threats, don’t send hate to tomdaya accounts, either block them or report them but don’t bully them. Many of them might need professional help dealing with the fact that Tom and Z are not together due to the fact that they created an illusion in their heads for a long time but that doesn’t mean some of them aren’t plenty manipulative and love to get away with bullying and harassment. 

If you don’t know, Tom was recently seen with another woman on his instagram, not going to say the name and please don’t try to find out about her, the relevant information is in this post and all of the private information regarding her is being protected for the same reasons. Many stans decided to apply the same treatment to her as they did to Olivia. If you don’t know what happened last year, all information is here. The fact that this kind of bullying and harassment got overlooked is horrifying. 

This specific behavior doesn’t apply to all of the stans but the vast majority is on the same page. 

A big thanks to all the blogs who contributed with information and their writing in this post.

STALKING 

1. Tomdaya stans have made an entire thread/timeline of events in Tom and Zendaya's life that they manipulated so it can be seen as proof of them dating. They stalk every single part of their lives, from paying stalkerish apps to review their instagram activities daily to having a constant GPS to know their exact locations everyday. They ask twitter accs, owners of restaurants/stores, people close to them information about their whereabouts/the things they buy or eat/who they were with, etc.

They order their ‘’interactions’’ with specific dates and they even know information you shouldn’t know about them. 

They pay for apps that helps them stalk their every move. That’s right, they take every like as proof of them being together. 

They hide behind the pretext that they're celebrities and this is what they've signed up for but neither Tom nor Zendaya have signed up for constant daily harassment of their partners in life. 

HARASSMENT OF PARTNERS

Tom was seen last year with a blonde girl called Olivia, everyone speculated that was his girlfriend and that was something everyone should’ve respected since it’s Tom’s life and he’s in control of it, instead, many fans including Tom H. crazy fans and tomdaya stans, decided to stalk and harass Olivia to the point she had to make her account private. They started bullying her by publicly calling her names like ‘’Olive Oil’’, ‘’Ugly old woman’’, ‘’Ugly fake bitch’’ among other names. They continuously compare her with Zendaya and write on her friends and family members’ social media and ask them to tell Olivia nasty things. You really think this is ok? 

Same is happening with the girl Tom was seen with. Tom’s own brothers asked several people to take down and delete the video because they were disrupting her privacy. Many stans didn’t care and started all over again harassing the girl. (I’m not posting images or the identity of this new girl in hopes that this helps maintain a little big of privacy for her.) 

However here are some examples of them harassing Olivia:

’’I saw a troubling post on twitter about this fan dming another fan saying that they’d kill her (Olivia). That they’d find a way. So that “the fans can have him all to ourselves” - source

MANIPULATING THE NARRATIVE

Tomdaya stans and some Tom Holland crazy stans love to harass Tom Holland to the point that they tag family members and friends only because he decided to go out in public with Olivia. They call him cheater, manipulator, a dumbass, made fun of him because Tom is dyslexic calling him an illiterate, mocked him and tried to cancel him in every opportunity given by manipulating everyone into thinking some of these ‘’facts’’ are true. 

Many fans don’t know better and go to social media to frame Tom as a scumbag because many tomdaya stans have convinced the public of this.

This same issue occurs with Zendaya. Her known boyfriend; Jacob Elordi, is frequently called a cheater and is being investigated every five seconds on every social media, candid, interaction ever. Many fans are already calling him cheater, telling everyone Zendaya’s changed her behavior thanks to Jacob and that she needs help. 

Source

BULLYING

The definition of cyberbullying according to Stopbullying.gov:

“Cyberbullying is bullying that takes place over digital devices like cell phones, computers, and tablets. Cyberbullying can occur through SMS, Text, and apps, or online in social media, forums, or gaming where people can view, participate in, or share content. Cyberbullying includes sending, posting, or sharing negative, harmful, false, or mean content about someone else. It can include sharing personal or private information about someone else causing embarrassment or humiliation. Some cyberbullying crosses the line into unlawful or criminal behavior. “

Examples of cyberbullying on Tumblr from good ole Toutdesuite360:

https://toutdesuite360.tumblr.com/post/190572803098/faces-haha-ive-heard-this-has-been-memed-when

Making fun of Jacob Elordi’s wealth… but that isn’t that only thing that the Tomdaya stans have done.

She basically implied that Olivia looked like an elderly lady, and she permitted her followers to humiliate her.

Funny, that a middle aged woman who has never revealed her face on her blog is bullying a young woman.

(She may have deleted the link to save her a** on the post with the Cher pictures, but thankfully @crazypeopleonfandom​ took screenshots of this post; I got most of my photos from them)

The next aren’t pertaining to the ‘innocent’ Toutdesuite360, just some random jerks from Twitter/Instagram. If you have the time, you can read through them.

See the pictures above and below for reference.

Labelling Zendya, Jacob E., Tom, and Olivia as cheaters, when there was no confirmed relationship between Tom and Z, and Jacob broke up with Cari already is plain disrespectful. These are type of claims are considered slander, and I’m surprised that the people who own these accounts haven’t been rightfully sued.

And remember when I talked about the repetition of people tagging Tom and Z’s family for their ‘thoughts’? Why are you tagging Nikki in your post?

Calling Olivia, once again, a vulgar word that shouldn’t be used for any woman.

This person and many other tomdayas are harassing Zendaya and Tom by tagging them repeatedly. Now we know why Tom stopped using Twitter, and why he may be taking breaks from social media.

And, as pointed out in another point on the thread: Tom has dyslexia! I easily ignore the posts that tease him about his lips, but when it comes to his disability, that crosses the line. It is unacceptable to bully someone just because your fantasy relationship doesn’t seem so real now.

Before I finish this point, I just want to remind people that celebrities are humans too. Everyone has feelings, and even if they haven’t seen these posts, it is still harmful to post this kind of information on your account. Fans who are young (or naive) may see these posts, thus making them believe that Tom actually cheated on Z, and that Z is really with Jacob as ‘payback’ to Tom. Bullying is still an ongoing issue, and maybe you should stop harassing/humiliating people on your platform.

DEATH THREATS

Olivia, Tom and his family, friends, Zendaya, Jacob Elordi, etc. They were sent death threats as a result of a fictional ship. This is truly upsetting and we’ve shown some proof of that above and it’s truly sickening how many of them really want to attack Olivia in public only because of a few photographs. 

DEBUNKING EVIDENCE

While we don’t know anything for sure, we need to trust and respect what Tom and Zendaya have said several times: they were never together and they were just friends. This is a topic that makes them feel uncomfortable and tomdaya stans decide to twist their words every time they want to clarify the situation, saying they’re hiding their relationship and that they’ve been hiding it for over 3 years. 

Stop believing everything SpideyParker on YouTube says, that person desperately wants them together so they’ll do anything in their power to make it seem like that they’re ’’still together’’. All of their evidence is also nothing but scraps. I can also make a video cropping out certain individuals from the frame to make it look like Tom is with someone or I can also investigate every tiny detail to a borderline degree to make it seem like Zendaya is dating someone. It’s really easy to manipulate the truth, so don’t fall for these things so easily. Check with the real sources, Tom and Zendaya. Trust and respect what they say it’s not your job to investigate and figure their lives out.

Their evidence of the relationship is ridiculous, stuff like them wearing the same clothes,

because obviously there’s no way this jacket is in any random store in the world...This is a unique jacket, made by Tom and Z specifically...And it’s not even the same jacket. If we’re going by their logic, then

More, more, more and more.

Source

Robert Downey Jr. and Tom have been in a relationship for a long time...

Angourie, Remy and Tom wearing the same jacket.

I have no idea what’s going on with the freaking necklace you swear with blood that Zendaya gave him but that’s hardly something special:

Matching necklace with Olivia.

Avengers necklace.

He likes necklaces, nothing special here.

'’Tom only goes to Zendaya’s home, and only goes out with her!’’

Tom Holland went to RDJ's house to watch Black Panther with him.

Tom and RDJ facetime daily.

Obviously, his only friend is Zendaya...

Look at him and Zendaya there, wow.

‘‘Tom looks at her with heart eyes and in a very special way!’‘

Excuse me, what is he supposed to do? Ignore Zendaya and look somewhere else every time she talks?  

MORE

He literally looks at everyone the same way.

‘‘He only does Spider-Man because he wants to be the Peter Parker to his Mary Jane, one of the most romantic comic book couples!’‘

I can’t believe I once read this as proof but I haven’t forgotten about it.

Interview with Tom and Laura:

“Is Zendaya’s character Mary Jane Watson?’’

Tom Holland: “No, no! This is one of those rumours, that like, we’ve all said it’s not true.

Laura Harrier: It’s not true!

Tom Holland: Like, we keep on… You guys keep building yourselves up for disappointment.

Laura Harrier: Unless we don’t know how this started? Because you guys are gonna see this movie and be like “…Ugh.” She’s Michelle!

Tom Holland: She’s a character called Michelle.

Laura Harrier: She’s playing Michelle.

Tom Holland: 100%. Hands down. Her character’s called Michelle. And she’s sort of this weird, quirky one in the friendship group that Peter has. She’s funny, but she’s super strange.

Laura Harrier: Yeah, super dry humour.

Tom Holland: She’s 100% not Mary Jane. It’s funny, everyone’s like “Is she Mary Jane?” and I’m like NO, I’M TELLING YOU! SHE’S NOT MARY JANE!

Source

‘‘He did the Will Smith thing with her, he loves her!’‘

‘’He only ever talks about her! He only praises her!’’

Angourie Rice.

Robert Downey Jr, 2, 3

Laura Harrier, 2

Elizabeth Olsen.

Jacob Batalon.

Chris Hemsworth.

Jake Gyllenhaal.

And the list goes on and on.

‘‘He always goes to her special events only! He only goes to her parties! He only goes to hospitals with her! He was on the set of Euphoria with her!’‘

How about, he goes out with her and everyone else in group and individually? He goes out with Harrison alone, with Jacob alone, with Laura alone, etc. I love how many of them love to leave out certain people to make everyone believe it’s only the two of them. And he doesn’t only goes to hospitals with her, he’s gone with many other people and he does it because he’s a good person, not because he’s on a date with Zendaya. 

Tom AND Jacob visit Zendaya on the set of the Greatest Showman.

Tom and friends celebrating Harrison’s birthday party.

Tom on a double date.

Tom going to Joe Russo’s restaurant to get an exclusive cooking lesson from Jessica Largey.

Tom on birthday parties.

Tom, Laura, Harrison and Harry out for dinner in Brazil.

Tom, Brie Larson, Tessa Thompson, and Zachary Levi in a club in Brazil.

Tom, Laura, Jacob, Harrison in a pool party.

RDJ & Tom Holland visit Jon’s restaurant and participate on his show.

Tom Holland visits Doctor Strange’s set.

Tom Holland, Ciara Bravo, Joe Russo visit haunted attraction.

He’s a good person and loves supporting his friends.

‘‘He only has chemistry with her!’‘

Tom and RDJ’s extraordinary chemistry.

Tom and Jake’s chemistry.

Tom and Jacob’s chemistry.

Tom and Laura’s chemistry.

Tom and Daisy’s chemistry.

Tom and Chris Pratt’s chemistry.

Also Will Smith, Chris Hemsworth, etc. 

Look below for Ciara and Tom’s chemistry.

Like I said before, maybe he’s a good actor and that’s it? 

‘‘Their FFH kiss was too real and magical!’‘

Spoiler alert for Cherry

Fan about witnessing Tom’s kiss with Ciara Bravo:

His reaction about kissing Laura Harrier:

‘‘He LOVES touching her’‘

I’m sorry, is he supposed to be scared of touching people?

This is it. This is the big touch they always talk about and the only times they’ve ever held hands is in manips or in FFH, but that doesn’t count, those are fictional characters. Well...

Maybe he’s a touchy person. Consider that.

’’She’s the only one that knows him well!’’

How well do Zendaya, Jacob, & Laura know Tom?

I’m sure Harrison, RDJ, his friends and others know him pretty well too. 

And only because he knows she likes ice cream doesn't mean she’s his ultimate soulmate or something blown out of proportion.

‘‘He’s only a gentleman with her!’‘

Tom saves Gina Rodriguez

Tom rescues fan

Karen Gillan

‘‘He looked way too in love with MJ to be fake’‘

Nope.

Nope 2

Nope 3

It’s called acting, pretty sure you guys know by now he’s good.

‘’They’re inseparable!’‘

Jacob, Tom and Harrison 

Also, why is it that every female in his life is his cousin, aunt, close childhood friend or ‘’he probably hates her’’ for you? 

They’ve said this multiple times but:

In an interview with Elle, Tom said he is not involved with anyone at the moment but is "definitely a relationship person." And when addressing the rumors, he says it’s uncomfortable and annoying when people ship him and Zendaya together. 

Zendaya also denied the claims, telling Variety Magazine that she and Tom were simply ‘just friends’. 

You can ship them if you want, as a bromance or cute chemistry, but not at the expense of someone else. Not when you violate their privacy, their lives and specially not when you bully, harass and stalk every detail of their lives.

Zendaya is clearly very happy with Jacob Elordi:

Let her have that. No, she doesn’t look miserable with him, no, he didn’t change her style or her personality. No, she doesn’t dress differently because of him. She is the same as always, she looks even happier. Let her be. This is good for her. She has every right to go out in public with her boyfriend. And for the love of god, stop commenting on her instagram posts ‘’warning’’ her that Jacob is going to cheat on her. Hopefully that won’t happen ever. 

And no, they’re not going to magically ’’get back together’’ when Spider-Man 3 starts filming, stop wishing bad luck on Zendaya and Jacob’s relationship. Tom is not going to magically realize how ‘’wrong’’ he was for ‘’leaving’’ Zendaya. He never left her, he’s her friend. 

All of this have gotten to the point where Tom can’t have a friendship with a female and he has to ‘’protect’’ them every time he wants to interact with them. Do you guys seriously think this is ok? Are you really a fan of his if this is how you want him to live? Controlling him all the time? 

Do you realize how wrong and unfair it is for the other partner every time you comment in every single picture on instagram, twitter, etc about how ‘’cute’’ Tom and Zendaya are? About how ‘’ugly’’ Olivia is? How about when you compare Zendaya and Olivia, or every single female in Tom’s life? Or when you comment on Zendaya’s instagram telling her she is different now and that you don’t like her now because she’s changed for Jacob? Telling her that Jacob is going to cheat on her? Stop sending death threats to the partners, stop tagging their families in your ‘’evidence/proof’’ posts/tweets. Just because they don’t voice these things doesn’t mean they don’t read them. 

Being sincere, if you all, as a collective; really, genuinely cared about Tom, this is the last thing you would wanna pull. In your endless obsession with thinking you have a right to dictate the life of a man simply because he's famous; actually stopped once to consider how this is possibly making Tom and Zendaya feel?? You are basically sending the message that nobody is enough, that him being happy isn't enough, that he won't ever be allowed to be happy until he gets with the person YOU think is best for him. Fucking abhorrent, how they don't have a choice on who they choose to fucking love. This is how you make a celebrity jaded. THIS is how you make a celebrity hate you. And he will, unless you stop your bullshit, and treat him; and whoever he decides to be with, like human beings.

When you focus only on two people it’s easy to believe anything, try and see the bigger picture. Allow Zendaya and Tom to enjoy their lives without harassing them and their partners.

[five-hxrgreeves]

I Won’t Back Down - Five Hargreeves x OC

Word Count: 1,385

You can stand me up at the gates of hell But I won't back down I'm gonna stand my ground Won't be turned around And I'll keep this world from dragging me down

1 | 2 | 3 |

Pt. 2- The Last 6 Days Until Apocalypse II, 2019

The next few days passed much the same as they always did. School was indeterminable boredom and after was a blur of time. It was nights that Lola really lived for. She wasn’t sure why but the dark, mysterious blackness that covered everything was so much more intriguing than the bright daylight. It helped spur her mind into its most aggressive thinking, it sped her heart up as she made her daily route to the large, unused library, it made her eyes strain to the best of their ability to see outlines in the blackness.

Now, don’t get her wrong- she was a fan of the light. She needed it to write, to see distinctly, but the quiet calm that came with the night was something so few people experienced in a world of billions that it made it more special to her. She didn’t think she’d ever like complete blackness, though.

The dark of night allowed her some cover as she slipped quietly into the Umbrella Academy’s library, her feet soft and quiet on the wooden floor. By now, she knew the layout by heart and made her way easily to the last place she’d taken books from and zipped open her bag carefully, extracting both volumes. While they hadn’t been extremely interesting, she’d liked learning from them as much as all the other books she’d borrowed from the library.

Lola quietly slid out the next two. One was a thick, bound leather book and she could feel the embossed gold on the cover as she slid it gently into her bag. The books on the shelf fell with a muted thump as the space became available and she winced but no one came, as usual. She moved to the next one, which was slimmer and a regular hardcover, its contents remaining a mystery until she could read them in the light.

After zipping her bag back up, she crept back down the stairs and made her way towards her usual escape except- she bumped into a soft-bodied figure and nearly screamed.

“Who-who’s there?” a light, airy voice called out, “are you a ghost?”

Her pulse picked up and Lola’s voice came out in a stutter as she said, “y-yes. O-of course,” then, feeling the need to be more ghost-like, she gave a fake, quiet moan, “wwoooohhh, my spirit is restless,” she sang in whisper.

A hand gently hit her face and brushed up and down as if petting her, “there, there, ghostie. Don’t bother me now.”

She leaned away from the man’s touch and scrambled for what to do next, but then the man seemed to freeze, “why’re you solid, ghost?”

“Uh- I’m special?” she tried, wincing at the lame answer. Luckily, the man seemed accept this and nodded, “okay, well, don’t follow me to bed. I’m open to many things but ghost sex is stretching it,” he gave an exaggerated shudder and stumbled past her, clumsily patting her on the shoulder.

Lola’s face burned bright red and she was glad it was too dark to see. After he left, she hastily made her way to the open window and slipped out, breathing a sigh of relief when her feet landed on the grass. His kids must have come back for the funeral, she thought as she made her way home. He’d spoken about ghosts, so it- it must’ve been The Séance.

She hoped he wouldn’t tell his siblings what had happened- that wouldn’t bode well for her. Luckily, he hadn’t seen her face and he also hadn’t seemed to be completely there, so he probably wouldn’t remember.

--

After school on Friday found Lola walking down the main street towards her father’s store. Now that it was the weekend, she didn’t need to be picked up and hurried home from school so she could start her homework. The local bookstore caught her eye and her father’s words echoed in her ears about the Hargreeves’ autobiography.

The bell jingled as she entered the shop and a female assistant made her way to the dark-haired girl to greet her, “good afternoon! Is there anything in particular you need help finding today?”

Lola gave her a smile and nodded, “yes, actually. I’m looking for an autobiography. Its, um, by someone of the last name Hargreeves.”

The woman’s smile flickered for a moment before broadening, “of course, right this way! We’ve moved them towards the back now that they’re not popular sellers. I think we still have a few copies, though.”

Sure enough, in the back of the non-fiction section the name Hargreeves stood out like a sore thumb, at least in Lola’s opinion. The book was titled Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven. The brunette slid a copy off the shelf and turned it over to read the summary on the back. There seemed to be a surprising amount about the woman’s- Vanya’s- family contained in the book.

“Will that be all?” the attendant asked.

She gave a nod, “yes, thank you.”

“Alright, dear, I can check you out at the counter.”

Lola followed the employee back to the front and made her purchase using her saved-up allowance money. Most of it was used for notebooks, writing utensils or additional book-buying so she had enough saved to purchase Vanya’s book. After leaving the shop, she made her way to the local diner, Griddy’s, texting her uncle of her change of plans.

Once there, she sat at the bar where an elderly woman came to greet her, “hello, dear, what can I get for you?”

Lola eyed the treats behind the counter thoughtfully, “classic glazed, please, Agnes,” she added her name after reading the woman’s tag.

“Of course, one moment,” Agnes said cheerfully and turned to complete her order.

She set the doughnut down in front of the girl, “if you need anything else just give a holler.”

Lola nodded in thanks and cracked open her new book, eager to read a professional autobiography. While she had studied some for research it had been awhile since she’d seriously read one.

My name is Vanya Hargreeves and this is my story it started out and the brunette smiled slightly at the similar openings. Pulling her pencil from behind her ear, she jotted down a note in the margin before continuing.

We were never a real family. We were our father’s creation, family in name, but not in fact. In the end, after our brother Ben had died, there was really nothing connecting us. We were just strangers living under the same roof, destined to be alone, starved for attention, damaged by our upbringing, and haunted by what might-have-been. We all wanted to be loved by a man incapable of giving love. Our father never missed the opportunity to remind me that I was ordinary, a hard thing for a little girl to hear. If you’re raised to believe that nothing about you is special, if the benchmark is extraordinary, what do you do if you’re not?

Lola sat at the counter as minutes slipped passed, slowly eating away at her doughnut and reading Vanya’s book, occasionally scribbling between the lines as she wrote notes for herself. As she read, she realized she liked Vanya’s writing style. The woman didn’t write daily stories and chronicle her life as if everything was significant but she also didn’t write the major events like they were items on a grocery list to be ticked off once they were written. Instead, she wrote in a way that made the objective viewer feel as if they were actually there, experiencing Vanya’s life. The brunette supposed that this is why the book lost popularity; some of the moments were too raw, too painful, to want to go back and reread and live through again.

Sometime later, her phone buzzed in her pocket, causing her to jump in surprise. The book lay before her more than half-read, pages wrinkled and dirty from pencil smudges and sugar from her sticky fingers as she’d turned the pages, hardly looking like a newly-bought book. Reaching into her pocket, the girl checked her text which was her uncle wondering where she was. Looking outside in surprise, she realized the sun was setting.

“Shit,” she breathed, hurriedly packing up her things. Hopefully, she wouldn’t get too much of an earful.

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 2

Characters: Elaine, Arthur x Theo, Vincent

Pairing: Elaine x Isaac (eventually)

Tagging: @plumpblueberry​ @lady-moonbroch​

A/N: This chapter turned out nothing like the first draft XD Enjoy some Elaine spending time with her Uncle and she meets a boy!

Four days into her new job as Theo’s assistant, the mood in their home had drastically lifted. Elaine never complained and paid close attention to every task given to her, exceeding all expectations. She quoted things he’d said to her years ago and questioned smartly, craving the knowledge he had. Having her along had proved quite useful with prickly clients, smoothing over situations with a charming smile and sweet words, likely emulating Arthur. 

Theo enjoyed having time with her. In recent years, they’d grown strained. The teenager wanted more freedom and broke rules in place to protect her because she believed them unnecessary. Now, at nearly eighteen in only two days, she’d fought harder. Being able to keep an eye on her put the art dealer at little more at ease.

His daughter sat across from him, glancing at him out of the corner of her vision. Elaine hadn’t taken the news that she couldn’t accompany him today well. Instead of anger, she’d pouted silently all morning.

“I take it that you aren’t happy with today’s agenda,” Arthur piped up with an amused grin not quite hidden by his cup of steaming coffee. The previous night Theo had informed him of the impending unhappy teenager.

Elaine stuffed the fork full of pancakes into her mouth, enough to make her cheeks puff out to match her frown. She’d gotten up extra early and made pancakes and extra sweet coffee, but the answer remained unchanged. Now, she wanted to drown her sorrows in syrup and butter until she got sick.

“Vincent has asked for you to help him today while I’m gone.” Theo could easily see the motive behind his brother’s sudden request. He’d promised to make her do some work instead of spoiling her the entire day.

The teenager flinched at those words. She couldn’t very well turn down her uncle, as she adored him so much. Help isn’t the word she’d choose to describe what the day would entail. He’d likely ask her to do a small task or two, nothing that required much effort. “Fine. I guess I can do that.”

Working didn’t bother her. She assisted around the house with the chores without complaint. If Comte asked, she would readily agree. It irritated her that this client wouldn’t allow her entrance to his home, prompting this sour mood. No promises of being quiet or staying outside had swayed Theo. He couldn’t risk spooking the man.

“If you find yourself in need of something to do, I can have you proofread for me.” Her grimace only made the mystery writer chuckle again. Her disdain for that job well-known. Though she enjoyed his stories, playing editor didn’t appeal to her. A tedious thing.

Theo cracked a grin, rising from the table. “You better thank Vincent for saving you from that.” One check of his watch ended the conversation. He bid his family farewell before heading into town alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to help your Papa with his work?” Arthur teased further. He had been a tad jealous that she eagerly wanted to assist Theo over the course of the week. Ah, but he was also grateful that the two were more understanding of each other.

Elaine stacked all the empty plates to carry them to the kitchen. “I love you but no.” Her curt reply still amusing. Setting the dishes in the sink, she licked the sticky syrup off her fingers.

“Off you go then. I’ll take care of the cleanup.”

The young vampire didn’t need to be told twice. Housework didn’t appeal to her either. She did her part, pitching in when needed, but if told she didn’t have to do it... the teenager bailed as quickly as she could.

Inside the mansion, the hallways were quiet and empty.  At this hour, everyone should be awake, except for Leonardo perhaps. Rapping her fist against Vincent’s door, she cast confused glances down the hallway.

“Goede morgen, Elaine,” Vincent greeted with a bright smile. He laughed softly at her confusion. Since Arthur and Theo had moved out of the mansion with her when she was only 4 years old, daily happenings didn’t reach their house as quickly as it spread through the mansion. “We’re the only ones here today.”

“I’m okay with that.” She flashed a disheartened smile, unable to shake the dark cloud hanging over her. Her normally mischievous and lively attitude disappeared. The others might have tried to make her understand. She understood perfectly fine.

That didn’t make it less saddening.

“Come here.” He’d barely open his arms and invited his niece to find comfort with him when the teenager stepped forward and accepted the warm hug. Vincent stroked his fingers through her copper hair. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but she reminded him so much of Theo when he was a child. “You know, he couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful you were on the job.”

“Really?”

It wasn’t that he hadn’t said so to her. Theo would give praise often, especially when she came up with new ideas. Telling the others about it, that was rarer.

Vincent hummed in response, a gentle smile on his lips as she peeked up at him. “I’d say he was outright bragging. I’m not surprised. You’re his daughter after all.” Placing a kiss on the top of her head, he laughed softly at her uplifted mood.

Elaine lingered a little longer before releasing him, soaking up his sunshine-like warmth. “I guess I could stop pouting about it.” Relenting her sad feelings, she sighed softly before questioning. “So, what was it you wanted my help with?”

“I finished the final painting and I thought I’d ask for your expert advice on where to put it in the gallery space. That is, if you want to.” His request was well-received with a glowing smile from his niece. Theo had mentioned that he’d given her the sole responsibility of choosing how to use the space to best showcase the art. The uncle looked forward to seeing what she’d done.

***********

The paintings on the wall were shrouded in black cloth, to hide the precious items from view until the day of the showing. Only a select few knew what was beneath, ones trusted by Theo to make this a success. Elaine had been gifted one of the only keys to venue, a testament to her importance.

“I believe I’m looking forward to this event more than any other,” Vincent commented, allowing the staff to hang the framed piece in its designated spot.

The heat in her cheeks caused the teenager to turn her gaze anywhere else. “It’s not much different from how Vader does it. I’ve been to more of these than any other event in the city.” The location changed but ever since she learned to walk, she’d been toddling around, observing, and learning how it works. Before she’d even realized, she’d begun understanding color theory and composition.

“It wasn’t too long ago that you were only a few years old and correcting patrons on the medium or style of the art. You always had this incredibly serious expression, much like Theo.”

“That was so long ago! I’m almost eighteen!”

Vincent chuckled with a loving smile. “Yes, I guess that’s right.”

The chime of the door timed perfectly with one of the staff calling to speak with Vincent. Elaine stepped away to investigate the newcomer. Violet eyes narrowed at the sight of a boy, likely no older than herself, attempting to take a peek at the portrait veiled by the black cloth. “Excuse me, but you can’t be in here.” Her tone less than polite, Elaine thrust her palms against his chest to push him away from the art piece.

“Oh, my apologies. I’ve been most curious about why there are staff entering but it’s never been open for business.” His emerald eyes filled with hidden intent that didn’t quite match the half smirk on his lips. The boy never resisted her pushing him back to the door and onto the street. “A secretive operation, I presume, miss?”

“Elaine and we don’t open for another two days.”

Her biggest fear was that he was a spy for le academia and all of her father’s hard work would go to waste if they were discovered. He didn’t fit the typical appearance of a high bred family, usually scrawny and uptight, and he wasn’t either of those things.

“I’ll have to pop in when you are open. My name is Leon Autry.” He flashed another brilliantly smug smile and winked. “Might I inquire your surname, should I have any future questions?” The reason lost on the recipient. He’d yet to ask anything relevant to the gallery.

Elaine turned on her heel to return inside. “It’s Doyle.” Even though she didn’t quite like the boy, she couldn’t risk turning away a potential buyer. Her cheeks were warm, and it wasn’t clear if it was from embarrassment or anger. The young pureblood didn’t have many friends her age, and that led to a bit of awkwardness when around humans her age.

“Ah, like the writer.”

The girl stilled, hand hovering above the door handle. Perhaps she’d heard him incorrectly.

“You might not know of him. He’s a British writer, mystery, I think.”

Or perhaps not.

“I believe it’s Arthur Conan Doyle. Any relation?” Leon asked as if he already knew the answer, like playing a game of truth or dare in order reveal a secret for confirmation.

Elaine relaxed her shoulders. Although she could hardly admit that she was indeed was the daughter of that very Arthur, albeit the vampire one, she wouldn’t allow him to glean that precious information from her. “No, but you aren’t the first to ask. But wouldn’t that be grand? Imagine being related to someone as talented as that.” Her dreamy smile fowled his for a moment.

“Imagine.” The façade of his grin had ghosted away for a split second, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Elaine, are you ready to head back?” A third party interrupted, much welcomed by the girl. Vincent approached the two, protectively a half step in front of his niece. The tension between the two children enough to worry him.

Her head bobbed once in response. “Yes, let’s go home.” The way Leon’s eyes followed her unsettled the girl. Elaine settled back on the seat in the carriage, mulling over the strange interaction. Was it so unusual for someone to draw a connection between her name and the human Arthur from this era?

Whatever the case, she now had a proper mystery on her hands.

[redstainedsocks]

A caretaker appears...

Warnings: box boy universe, dehumanization, people as pets, mentions of punishments and restraints, noncon drugging, memory loss.

This one is more angst than whump, but sets up a bit more detail of what Kit’s daily life is like. Enjoy!

[Beginning]

It had been a busy day, and they were only halfway through it. There was still the entire afternoon to go before he could put the products—pets, and they were anxious pets today—back in their crates. Until the uneasy feeling in his gut might settle back to bearable levels.

One went this morning, to a tight lipped woman who looked stern and sounded harried. She chose Freckles. Not the first Freckles Kit had ever named, probably not the last, but he tried to commit her face to memory all the same. Someone should know, someone should wonder about her. How was she, would she settle, would they take care of her? Freckles was quiet and uncomplaining, hardly dared to move unless cajoled into it half the time. What would her life be like with an impatient owner, who barely took the time to get to know her, and chose her based on looks not compatibility?

Freckles had glowed, given Kit a shy smile. He recognised it: relief. To be picked was better. He knew that, they all knew that. A permanent home meant no longer being rejected. It meant not living in this limbo where every day you didn’t get chosen might inspire Emile’s wrath, bring down the threat of further training to get you ready. It was better that Freckles was gone… so why did he care? Why did he always care?

His thoughts ticked round in circles as he followed the new man around the store and held out his hands to carry things picked off shelves. Blankets, a comfort toy, a leash, a name tag. An instrument for correction that Kit balked at having to touch, and trembled to hold between his thumb and forefinger. He brought them all to the till, placed gently down and then neatly stacked them. He stood straight-backed while Emile finished with the couple at the counter.

“And would you like the Box Boy experience?” Emile asked.

Kit inhaled to avoid wincing and looked down at his bare feet. Please say no.

“What does that entail?” One asked excitedly.

“Here, why don’t you read this little leaflet, have a chat, while I ring up everything for this patient gentleman, and then we can discuss it!” Emile smiled broadly, and turned to Kit. “Help these men with their purchase, go start getting number four ready.”

Number four, number four? He screwed up his face and tried to count round the layout of crates from the back room, to picture it and guess where four fell… nearly halfway, right? That meant it was Ski’s turn to go to a new home. Little Ski, short for Skinny, a thin bony thing with a long face and large eyes. Kit watched as one of the couple went up and stroked through Ski’s hair and the boy turned his wide, searching eyes upward to the people he’d be going to live with. Kit swallowed hard and walked over.

“Hi, good morning. Is there anything I can help you with?” He asked, kept his voice low and pleasant, even though he wanted to snatch Ski up and put him somewhere safely out of sight.

“Oh aren’t you a polite thing?” the shorter of the couple cooed at him. “Will he be as well behaved as you?”

Kit cleared his throat. “All our products are well mannered and happy to obey, they will be very grateful to live in your home.” He paused, and wondered whether to deviate from the script. “S- he is very quiet but attentive. He likes affection and worries if he doesn’t get it, I… I can show what he responds best to, if you like.”

“I think that would be great, we should help him settle in as best we can, don’t you think, love?” The shorter turned to his partner and tried to coax a smile out of him.

“And just how do you know?” The taller man said, flicking his eyes up and down Kit’s body. “You’re just a pet too.”

“Pshh, be nice, I’m sure he knows the products here very well don’t you, sweetie?” The shorter man spoke in a high pitched babying voice when he addressed Kit that grated on Kit’s nerves.

He nodded. “I’m trained to help wherever I can, I can give you whatever information you need until my Owner is ready to complete your purchase.” I know these pets better than anyone here, asshole, and you were just going to walk out the door without learning anything, weren’t you? Why does no one ever ask me?!

“You go right ahead dear, my boyfriend here is just a worrywart over making such a big purchase.”

Kit smiled, like he understood what that was like, and stepped toward Ski. He gently lifted the boy’s arm and wrapped his hand around the boy’s wrist. He rubbed soothing circles with his thumb into the underside, something he’d learned Ski liked if he’d ever been in restraints, and now made him relax whenever he was tense. 

“Like this, he responds very well. It’s a comforting thing for him. He struggles with loud noises sometimes, but I’m sure—umm, I’m sure once he settles and feels safe and knows he’s wanted he’ll be less scared of them. The shop is busy sometimes, it’s no place for a pet to live.” He smiled and dipped his head, like he was sharing a secret. He had to make them think they were doing the best thing for the kid, so they’d think it was an honour, so they’d treat him well. It was his responsibility. Emile would sell to anyone, and give only the barest hints of information, nothing outside of the standard set of notes. 

The couple took a long time deciding what accessories to buy, and eventually decided to go for the Box Boy experience too and Kit’s long morning led into a very long afternoon.

Somehow it was always his job to get the pets into the boxes when a new Owner wanted to pretend they’d bought from somewhere like Whumpee’s-R-Us and didn’t just walk out with their new purchase. The pets trusted Kit. He had no idea why, when he was always the one to make them do things. 

The delivery truck was ready by mid afternoon and Ski trembled in a blindfold and black shorts, his arms loosely restrained and all the accessories the couple had bought in a neat canvas bag beside him. 

“It won’t be long, I don’t think they live very far. Just breathe, okay? In and out, there’s always air, you just have to breathe it in. Be good, please be very good when you get there they seemed nice, didn’t they? They listened to everything I told them about you. I think they’ll really care, don’t you?”

Ski nodded, and leaned into Kit. He looked furtively around to make sure Emile wasn’t nearby and then wrapped him in one last hug before he ushered him into the large box. Knees bent up to his chest and straps to keep him secure and one little poke of a needle, and the kid went loose limbed and flopped in the bottom of the box. Kit stood restlessly until Emile came and checked the goods, and Kit helped force the lid into place, not even able to see Ski’s eyes one last time before he was gone.

“Good job, Kit,” Emile said, one heavy hand thumped him on the shoulder before Emile and the driver started hauling the box out.

Relief and a swell of pride made him straighten his back, at the same time his stomach sank lower and lower. He needed that affirmation from the one person he was meant to please, he needed to know it was all okay, all going to plan. That he was living up to the standards he was supposed to keep. But he hated it.

He didn’t want to be good at this.

- - -

The weekend was a welcome relief. Saturday was his favourite day. Saturday usually meant no Emile. When Emile often took the day off, the newly hired shop assistant took charge for the day.

Kit liked Libby. He liked how she spoke to him, how she dealt with annoying customers, how they could laugh about them afterwards. Emile still woke him, got him up to start the day and let him out of the upstairs apartment, and then he went home, or off to play golf, or relax. And it was just Kit, waiting for Libby to arrive.

He caught sight of her as she hurried past the front window. Her hair was long, a pale brown that had faded to a lighter shade in the summer months. She’d caught him staring once, mesmerised at the waterfall of hair that had somehow magically changed color. He hadn’t known it could do that.

“What is it?”

“Your-your hair is… is yellow.”

She laughed, put at ease at his simple admission. “It’s the sun, it bleaches all the color out. And it’s not yellow, it’s blonde.”

He hadn’t known what that word meant, his mind stuck around it, buffering against a blank space from a memory that had been torn from him. 

“Blonde?”

“It’s a word to describe hair, it means the lightest shades, pale golds, straw colors. Anything… well anything yellow-y I suppose.”

“What about mine does it have a name?”

“You’re a brunette. A dark one, almost black in some lights. I bet if you got some sun it might go a little paler…”

She’d trailed off, they both knew that wasn’t on the cards. He clung to the words, new descriptions, things he hadn’t known he’d forgotten, things he hadn’t remembered he was supposed to understand.

“What about Emile. What’s he?”

She’d doubled over, laughing, beckoned him closer until she could whisper in his ear. “Balding.”

The memory of what the word meant slammed into him and he went wide eyed, and then giggled nervously. A secret. A shared joke. He was always supposed to respect Emile, he shouldn’t be laughing. But Libby was right, Emile’s hair was thin at the back of his head, and she laughed about it so he did, too.

The sound of the back door unlocking and opening dragged him from his thoughts. Libby smiled at him and dumped her things, ruffled his hair as she walked past and pinched him playfully on the elbow to get moving. 

“Come on, whole day ahead of us!” She breezed past him to start putting up the shutters and to log in on the till computer. The pets were already out, Kit had done his morning routine to the letter, chore by chore, even with no one to check on him.

He waited silently in the doorway for her to notice. For her to see. When she looked up a soft Oh left her and she turned to Kit with a half-smile. 

“Made some sales since last week, huh?”

He nodded, bit his lip. “Some. And two just yesterday. Two, all at once.”

“That’s good; new homes, new lives. Right?” 

He shrugged. “What if… what if they’re not?”

“That’s not your problem to worry about, Kit.”

“They’re gone, and they were just here. So sudden, I…” he hardened, scowled. He shouldn’t be saying these things. “What if they’re not good, what if they come back for training and I have to—have to see them go through that?”

“You miss them,” Libby said, softly. “It’s understandable.”

“No, I. No, I’m not supposed to miss them, that’s not. That’s not what they’re here for.”

She didn’t try to correct him, but he saw her disbelief. It worried him, that he’d lied and she noticed, until she held out her arms and walked forward. She was smaller than he was, but not by too much. She gestured with her hands and he leaned in, she cradled his head and he leaned further until his brow rested on her shoulder.

He shook, eyes hot and jaw clenched. He wasn’t supposed to care, not this much, not more than them. He wasn’t supposed to mind doing his job, fulfilling his purpose. He was trained to obey, to behave, to do what was asked. Why did he have to get so attached? Why did he want to protect them, when he couldn’t?

Libby stroked the back of his head, and one hand slid lower until she could rub between his shoulder blades. Just briefly. Just for a second.

“You did good, you did what you were told. You looked after them, that’s all you can do. That’s what you’re supposed to do. This is a shop, they got sold, they’re where they’re meant to be in someone’s home, not this halfway place.”

He nodded. He wanted to believe, but once they left… once they left it was like they never existed. He saw nothing outside this place, nothing besides the confines of these walls.

“Come on, I have to work or Emile might fire me,” she said with a laugh but he tensed up all the same. She was the nicest shop assistant they’d ever had since Emile bought him, since he was claimed.

“I can get another stool for you, if you want? Or you can sit down by me on the floor, until we have a customer?” She pulled back and he missed the touch that wasn’t because he was moving another pet around, or because Emile was yanking him about in a hurry.

“I can kneel on the floor, I like…” he liked not being able to see the shop, for a while, so he could pretend it wasn’t there and he wasn’t the only one with the weight of responsibility for the pets out on the floor. “I like sitting by you.”

“Good, come on then, I have your high score to try and beat.” She smiled at him, knocked her knuckles playfully on his chin and turned quickly on her heel.

Libby settled onto the narrow stool behind the counter and he slid to his knees beside her. She never sat completely, wouldn’t stop jiggling, but it was nice. He leaned against her and her hand came down to rest on his head, not moving, not pulling, not doing anything. Just there. Just a weight, something to keep him from floating away, to keep his thoughts from running out of his head to his mouth.

Just a comfort.

Just.

Someone.

[Next]

tag list:  @haro-whumps, @theycomeinthrees, @whumpthisway, @samanddeaninpanties, @teachunks, @draganies, @pepperonyscience, @whump-it, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[seeveekat]

20 TUMBLR CONFESSIONS

I was tagged by @criminalsenzuri (thank you btw!)

Rules: Answer the questions you are comfortable with and ignore the ones you are not, and tag eight people to do the same!

1. When did you join Tumblr, and when did you become active and started posting (broken down in case if different)?

joined in 2012 and basically started re blogging after like a month of lurking

2. Would you reblog your first ever Tumblr post after responding to these questions?

Naw i dont post cringe anymore

3. How many blogs do you follow?

I just checked I think it’s around i follow 1000+??? which is wild because  i olnly see like the same 8 blogs??? many are probs defunct lol

4. How do you find blogs to follow; do you explore Tumblr by topic to find interesting ones, pick from the tags the ones who look interesting, see them on your dash via your current follows - or how?

mainly posts, sometimes reblogs

5. Do you have any other blogs, and if so, why and what are they about?

yeah a jjba one, a star trek one and an art one i dont use anymore where the only thing that is reblogged by people is a shitpost comic about how Mayuri, frieza, and orochimaru were my first anime crush.

6. How often do you change the theme of your blog and how many themes have you gone through overall (as far as you remember)?

Rarely and like two themes i think

7. Do you customize your themes or apply a theme as is?

naw b how ever it looks when i get it is how it stays

8. Do you automatically follow-back, or do you check the blogs of all your new followers, or only if they appear interesting?

I always check but after a while i might follow back

9. How many of the blogs you started following within the first few weeks/months of joining Tumblr you still follow (all, most, some, hardly any)?

a good portion of my Bioshock mutuals are still around????? thats solidarity alright

10. How actively do you use Tumblr’s messaging system?

occasionally to keep in touch with close friends

11. How many drafts do you have currently saved – or do you post/reblog straight away without saving drafts?

drafts??? on my blog??? never :)

12. Do you use Queue when posting?

only on accident

13. Do you use XKit, and if so, what are your favourite features in it?

yes god i love it. one click reply makes reblogging suuuper easy

14. Do you use tracked tags, and if so, what are your favourite tags you check most frequently.

yeah. I check the, Frieza, Mayuri Kurostuchi, Lutece Twins and Klaus von Reinhertz tag daily like the fucking simp I am

15. Do you use tracked blogs, and if so, how many blogs you track?

only for zine blogs :) Gotta stay updated on apps some how

16. Do you keep your Tumblr secret from people you know in real life?

yup, though i have had people follow my blog before knowing me before lmao.

17. A) Have you ever blocked anyone? B) Do you have anyone blocked currently, and if so, how many?

yeah :/ like 4 for “reasons” and a couple of tag spammers

18. Are you (to the best of your knowledge) being blocked by anyone, and if so, how many, and do you know why?

probably. thats just how it be baybee

19. Do you use blacklist, and if so, what do you blacklist against?

nah B people i follow barely tag and never reblog anything that may trigger me

20. Have you ever made a RL friend through Tumblr, someone who you have also met in real life?

Naw. Discord? Yes. Tumblr? No.

I tag: any of my mutuals lol. Do this is you want! Im curious to see your awnsers!