#i think up until that point he has spent so long repressing parts of himself I think he feels a little numb

[llumimoon]

Started thinking about the oak family again mood board

[le-trash-prince]

Kenta & Pete pt 2

From the very beginning of their relationship, Pete used his status to establish himself as Kenta's protector. This is not uncommon for people living with an abuser, and this is something that really strikes me as a key part of Pete's character. He uses his privilege to help people.

When Babe left Tony's house, he did so after finding out that Tony had been the reason behind Babe's family falling apart, that Tony was a saboteur rather than the benefactor he posed as. Babe didn't learn about the other children being sold until Charlie told him about it.

But Pete finds out while he is still living under Tony's roof, and that is what prompts him to leave. He doesn't confront Tony about it, he simply leaves. Because this is something that he can't just stand by and watch happen. This goes beyond shielding someone from punishment. His status as an enigma won't help, it won't end the cycle, so he leaves. And as we know, he spends the rest of his life building up the power he needs to put a stop to these children being sold off.

But Kenta, who must know Pete so well at this point, sees it coming and tries to stop him. For Kenta, Tony's house is his entire world. Tony is the one who gave him life.

He wasn't even allowed outside without permission. He doesn't have any privileges, he's there as a mere accessory to the needs of others.

He's been conditioned to believe that he owes everything to Tony. He is part of this house, and this is where he feels he belongs.

But if Pete leaves, he takes the only good thing in Kenta's life.

What goes unsaid is that rather than Tony being hurt by Pete’s actions, it’s Kenta who will be hurt if Pete leaves.

I don't know yet whether or not Pete reciprocated Kenta's feelings, but I do think that the kiss is told from Kenta's perspective, and I think Kenta took Pete's silence as rejection. So when Pete leaves, he appeals to their brotherly bond instead. We will no longer be phi and nong.

And in Kenta's eyes, it wasn't enough. He wasn't enough for Pete to stay. Pete left to save the others, when he had promised to protect Kenta.

And how much abuse has Kenta suffered since Pete left? To him, he was abandoned and betrayed.

But for Pete, he wanted Kenta to make a decision for himself. Kenta views himself as a tool, an accessory. Objects don't make decisions.

But Pete views him as a friend, as a good person. Kenta is not the object that Tony treats him as. He has wants and desires, he has feelings, and Pete wants Kenta to understand that.

Kenta wanted Pete to stay, and Pete wanted Kenta to leave, and it is tragedy that neither of these things happened. This is yet another example of broken family that Pit Babe has given us.

Kenta thinks it is too late for him to change, even if he is constantly being torn apart by the things he feels he must do, and by the abuse he continues to endure.

But Pete thinks it is never too late for someone to change. He still hasn't given up on Kenta, and how that must burn—to have someone believe in you when you have never believed in yourself.

Kenta has spent years repressing his reactions to everything that he has endured and witnessed and taken part in. He is putting everything into convincing himself that he doesn't care, that he can even kill his childhood love as long as it is for the one person who has given him purpose.

But he does care, he cares so much, and he is closer to his breaking point than we've ever seen him before.

pt 1

[seredelgi]

Sweet Punishment- pt.2

fandom: Attack On Titan/ Shingeki No Kyojin

pairing: Dom!Levi Ackerman x Sub!Fem!Reader, Levi Ackerman x You

summary: After Eren gets entrusted to Levi, you have a hard time adjusting to his late shifts and his change of behavior. You miss his touch and you miss the sex, but you want to be a good girl for him, so you try your hardest to repress your urges, until he busts you.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: dom!levi, dom!levi, sub!reader, smut, sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don't try it at home lol), penetration, vulgar language, brief choking, degradation, dry humping (even though it's not very dry, if u know what i mean), praise kink, just a tiny bit, spit kink, I'm so sorry, but he turns me insane NO SPOILERS

word count: 3.5 k

a/n: ok so this was born bc I'm so not done with this man, and also I had a need to depict smut with him in that freaking white tee he's got on in s3 so yeah, enjoy.

Part 1

He’s been so stressed out lately. Things have changed a lot since Eren has turned out to be a Titan Shifter and has been entrusted to him. Levi comes back home so much later, so much more tired than he used to. You miss him like crazy, but you don’t wanna be a burden, too. He’s got so much in his mind, the last thing he needs is you acting like a baby and demanding more time from him.

This is what you get for being a soldier’s woman, after all. You knew this was part of it, you were already lucky enough to be with him regardless of his position. When you two met years ago he was cold, he was indifferent. It took months for him to admit that it was a facade, put up so that he wouldn’t get too attached. He ended up catching feelings anyway, and at that point, it was “better to keep you close and be able to protect you”- in his own words.

He likes his job. You know it and try to respect it, but you feel him slipping away recently, you feel him so distant and you really need him to make you feel loved. You miss his touch, his kisses, you miss being fucked. It’s been a while since you two last had sex, and being that the last time you tried to pleasure yourself you got taught a lesson, you were practically abstinent in every way. You spent endless days thinking about him, and you dreamed about sex practically every night.

But you can’t think to burden him with your flimsy desires when he’s got the fate of your people dawning down on his shoulders.

When he opens the door of the room that late evening he looks no different than he has in the last few weeks: cold, distant, absolutely worn out. He’s just got out of the shower, and he’s got that long-sleeved white t-shirt on that you love so much, but his black uniform trousers remind you that right now he doesn’t belong to you. You can see it in his eyes, two dark slits, probably still reliving the events of that day.

You’re on your bed, reading a new book as you wait for the oven alarm to go off. You’re starving, and by the looks of it, he is too.

He drags himself onto the bed, and you take a look at him while he takes hold of your book by the spine and closes it shut with one hand, putting it aside and crawling lazily on top of you, his face cradled in the curve of your neck, he huffs softly upon your skin.

It’s been a while since he’s dared to be this intimate with you, and even before that, he’s never allowed that to himself very often, always keeping everything inside, never asking for much. That’s what drove you to shut the hell up about your needs, you didn’t want him to think you’re weak.

You’re caught off guard by this sudden closeness, and you hum quietly into the silence that’s comfortingly surrounding you two right now. Your heart starts to pound a bit faster, but as he sweeps his hands underneath your shoulders to keep you closer you start to relax into his embrace. Who knows how long it’s gonna last, you better enjoy it.

You feel him breathe in your scent, and the kind of noise that he lets go after that takes your breath away and has your thighs squeeze together.

Keep it together, he’s just freaking tired.

“ You smell amazing” he purrs on your warm skin, sending shivers running down your spine as his fingers press ever so tenderly into your delicate flesh.

You chuckle nervously as you try not to focus on how low and husky his voice sounds right now, on how you can feel it reverberate from his chest through yours. He’s so warm, and that fucking white tee he’s got on is just too comfy not to feel the need to hold onto it desperately as you try to refrain from letting you get carried away with all of this.

“ You smell like you had to bark orders all day” you retort, keeping the conversation light even while you know the scent he’s emanating right now is enough to drive you wild.

“ Mhmm” he softly asserts, and his voice is so quiet that you think he’s probably dozing off, before you feel his delicate kiss pressing down on your shoulder, and you open your eyes wide.

It’s a chaste kiss, soft and gentle, and yet it gets your insides in a twirl to feel him press his lips on you while you’re wrapped against his body.

You hadn’t quite grasped how starved you were for him before realizing that one little kiss was enough to set your skin ablaze and have the cozy warmth in your lower abdomen starting to spread. It has never been that fast for you, never that immediate. You usually need some time to get in the right mood or some warming up to get ready. But right now you’re burning hot and desperate for him to keep touching and kissing you like that.

You can’t say that out loud tho, can’t be the whiny little girl that cries for attention as soon as she stops receiving it for a moment too long.

It doesn’t really matter tho, because just as his fingers press harder into your flesh he leaves another quiet kiss on it, and this time you can’t help but audibly moan, the sudden break of that cage of silence so unnerving that you bite your bottom lip, harshly dipping your teeth down on it as some sort of punishment for caving in so easily.

He pops his head up slowly, a kind of stunned expression painting his beautiful features. You feel your cheeks start to warm up underneath his scrutiny, his eyes finding yours big and full of lust.

“ You like this” he states.

You can’t tell if he’s amused by it. A few weeks prior you would’ve been sure that having you being ready for him so easily would’ve sent a proud spark glinting in his eyes, but right now his expression is as cold as it’s been all these past days spent longing for him, and you’re quite sure he must be kind of disappointed.

You shake your head no tentatively, wondering if you could ever look remotely believable as you find yourself hoping for.

His eyes narrow down on your features, on the crimson red of your cheeks, and your heavy breathing. Yeah, Levi might be tired, but he’s certainly not stupid.

He props up on his left hand anyway, letting his right one slowly slide underneath the sheer fabric of your sundress, along the length of your thigh, eliciting another soft whimper from you, and you feel so ashamed that you cover your mouth with your arm, your eyes languid with denial.

“ Then why you mewling like a cat in heat?” he sounds so stern that he almost feels displeased with you, and it kind of hurts to hear him talk to you like that.

Still, you feel the disconcerting need to be strong for him, to be good.

“ I’m just-” you pant, regaining focus, even though all that you really want is for his hand to travel further up your thigh “ a bit sensitive, must be the cycle”

You’re lying. You’re probably in the least fertile phase of it, but you can’t help it, you miss him too much, and having been forbidden to touch yourself, it’s been torture to resist the urges.

You doubt he’s bought it, yet his face is an inscrutable mask right now, and he looks down at you for a few more instants before he suddenly gets a hold of your wrists, pinning them down the mattress without much effort as you catch your breath.

He stares you down as if you were his prey, and honestly, too dizzy with arousal, too scared of letting him know the shameful truth of it, you’re less and less able to decipher his emotions, and somehow this only feeds your desire.

“ Spread your legs for me, then” he orders.

You hate to disobey him, but you’re too embarrassed of yourself to give him access to your sweet spot right now since you're sure he’s gonna find it already covered in your juices.

A glint of annoyance darkens his irises when you fail to comply. He huffs, his right knee slipping abruptly in between yours two, having you divaricating your legs wide within a few rough movements.

You muffle a protest, but it dies in your throat immediately as one of his hands lets go of your wrist and heads south, escaping underneath the skirt of your dress and reaching for your baby pink panties, feeling you out roughly through its fabric, finding it drenched.

“ Fuck-” his voice sounds hoarse from the shock of finding you like that already “ You’ve made a fucking mess”

You let out a quiet sob as you appraise his reaction, covering your eyes with the hand of yours he hasn’t gotten pinned down on the mattress anymore.

“ I’m sorry” you let out a shaky breath, unable to keep it all in any longer “ I’m sorry Levi, I just miss you so much”

You’ve held onto all that for weeks as he’s been burdening himself with who knows how much, and now it’s enough for him to touch you through your underwear to have you crumble like that. It’s kind of pathetic.

He stays quiet for a while, and you can only wonder what his face looks like as you keep your eyes shut against the back of your hand, not ready to see his harsh judgment of your weakness.

Then you feel his grip on your wrist loosen, and all his coldness and forcefulness melt into tender little kisses that he leaves down your neck as he reaches for your ear. He looks for your hand, sliding his fingers across the length of your arm and intertwining them with your own.

He uncovers your face to look at you, his expression still stern, but it doesn’t quite look like he’s judging you, more so than himself. You can see the cloud of guilt thundering in his eyes.

His lips are just a breath away from yours when he whispers down upon you:

“ Don’t cry” his tone is definitive, something like that, even if incredibly sweet, when said by him sounds like a precise instruction.

You sniff softly one last time before his lips press tenderly against yours.

He starts kissing you slowly, experimentally, giving you all the time you need to adjust from the previous harshness that he had addressed you to the sweetness that he’s promising you now. And even if reticent at first, you gradually start to melt against him, the feeling of his tongue slipping past your lips a welcomed revelation, one that you feel like saluting by filling his mouth with moans as he sets gently between your legs, his hardness aching against your core.

Gosh, you’ve missed this. You love the taste of him in your mouth so much that it’s almost exhilarating, the way he deepens the kiss at every little whimper you let out, the way your lips are glossy with his saliva when you part to catch your breath and ghost a little impulsive smile on his face.

You can’t help it now, you’re too high on the kiss he’s granted you, and you let your hips lounge up towards his, rutting softly against his erection, your fingers twisting in his locks, and you feel a blissful shiver cover you whole as he breaks the kiss to groan on your parted lips.

You want him so bad you feel like you’re losing control, and you love when he can’t help but be vocal about his arousal, so you’re compelled to continue grinding against him rhythmically, having him elicit all kinds of delicious noises on top of you as he kisses your lips with increasing passion.

Suddenly his right hand is at the base of your scalp, tugging harshly at your hair to have your head lean back enough to give himself better access to your exposed neck.

“ So fucking desperate ” he pants upon your skin “ how long have you been like this?”

“ Too long” you whine as you feel his lips tauntingly ghost above all the sensitive spots he knows so well, biting you tenderly at first, then starting to suck on your skin with euphoric compulsion. It’s the kind of sweet agony that has you sigh ecstatically and arch your back in response, the satisfaction of feeling his mark being imprinted upon you one that you find hard to rival.

When he’s done he leaves your neck pulsing in delight, and he starts grinding against you fiercely as his forehead comes to rest against yours.

“ Been waiting for me to set you free, huh?”

You nod faintly at that, eyes fluttering underneath the weight of your thriving desire, and you kiss his humid lips before looking for the zip of his black trousers, tired of having all those layers interpose between your sexes. You wanna feel his throbbing skin against your hole, wanna hear your juices mix as he rides you.

“ Such a good girl” he praises you, and that’s just too much.

As soon as his cock’s free of his boxers you press him down against you with a tug, his nakedness clashing down the wetness of your panties. He grunts, closing his eyes, reveling in the feeling of your drenched underwear starting to surround his hotness. The simple shift of pressure makes you roll your eyes, and he reaches for your jaw with his right hand to press his thumb on your lips, silently demanding access to your mouth. You open it up right away, and he slips inside, letting you suck on his finger once and then brushing your bottom lip downwards with it, keeping your mouth open beneath him.

“ Wider” he commands, and it’s so clear by the tone of his voice that he’s used to imparting orders, so confident in expecting them to be followed. And you sure as hell don’t wanna disappoint him.

So you open your mouth wider for him, sticking your tongue out as he continues riding you, your juices starting to soak your panties, creating enough lubrification for you to start getting extremely close to your relief.

“ My good girl” he hums quietly, and seeing him genuinely pleased with you puts your mind at ease. You don’t know exactly when it started, but you’d comply with anything he asks of you just so that he’ll utter those quiet little praises to you.

He spits in your mouth, and you’re honestly taken aback for a split second. You wouldn’t expect someone as composed as him to do something so raw just like that. But as soon as you feel the warm liquid on your tongue you’re quick to swallow what you manage, driven by your desire to make him proud. Some of it is still drooling down your bottom lip tho, and his eyes shimmer down on it, relishing in the sight of you, broken by the growing pleasure, completely at his mercy.

“ Fuck- You’re too hot like that” he breaths down upon you as he reaches between you two, looking for the spot where your panties are becoming so damn wet that you should probably feel embarrassed, but you’re way past that. Especially when you feel his erratic movements finally setting your pussy free, moving the fabric that was still covering it to the side just enough that you can feel the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, hot and covered in pre-cum.

“ Ah-” you cry as you feel him finally pushing against your hole, every nerve ending of yours waiting for him to pierce through you and finally take you.

He slides inside of you with a gentleness that almost kills you, and you can quite literally feel every inch of his length fill your soaked pussy up like you’ve been dreaming about for days. You wanna feel him pick up the pace and quite simply ruin your cunt for good, but all it takes is one thrust of his inside of you, a simple gentle rub of his pelvis against your clit to bring you over the edge.

You start shuddering frantically against him, gripping at his shirt and crying his name so loud that you’re sure the walls could be shaking from it. You kiss his neck through your high, needing to feel him hiss against your ear in response, to bask in his scent, and to feel the flex of his muscles against your hot lips.

“ What's th- fucking 'cumming already?” he lets out, his voice broken by the shock of your pre-empted release “ my God, you're pathetic"

You nod dully, rolling your eyes as little jolts of pleasure unleash throughout your whole body, having you spasming silently against his torso as he picks up the pace, driven mad by the unexpected hunger that your orgasm has unleashed within him.

He’s thrusting so deep inside of you that you feel like he could break you in half, and yet you can’t stop moaning, can’t stop telling him how damn good he’s making you feel.

“ You’re so good at taking it-fuck” he resumes kissing your neck and biting you hard, leaving you sore and aching for more “ you’re made for this, made for me”

The idea has you rejoice, a proud kind of sentiment starting to engulf you as he smacks harder against your cervix, hitting that spot that has you babbling incoherently underneath his weight.

All that you’re feeling is thanks to your patience, you’ve been good and waited for him, and you’d do it for years if it meant being fucked like this was the prize.

You can’t help but nod, your head bobbing up and down under the heel of the merciless pace he’s been keeping up so steadily. You can practically feel every ounce of the frustration he’s held within him in the past few days being reversed in each thrust of his, in every grunt and spasm of his muscles as he pounds into you, and you’re so glad to be the one he vents upon.

You can feel him getting closer. He’s frantic, panting down on you, shoving inside of you with such force that you can’t even think straight anymore, the feeling of your aching pussy squeezing his cock inside of you the only thing you can focus on.

He rises above you to be able to get a hold of your neck, tightening his hand around your throat to make you look at him. You can’t think about what you may look like right now as you stare back into those dark grey irises you love so much. It’s too fucking embarrassing what this man is capable of reducing you to.

“ I’m gonna ‘cum inside of you”

It’s not a warning, it’s a statement.

You shift your weight back slightly to be able to open your legs wider as a reflex, eager to feel him finally releasing into you, but he grips your hips and dips his fingers harder into you, almost bruising your skin in the act.

“ Don’t- fuck, don’t move” he demands.

You don’t need to be told twice, so you stay put, looking up at him and contemplating the sight.

You love seeing him like this, sweaty and broken by pleasure, strands of soft raven hair cascading down his forehead, his shirt revealing just the faintest little hint of his muscles flexing underneath its clean fabric.

But his eyes are what you love the most, the kind of glare that can go from pure sweetness to downright threatening in a matter of seconds. Dark and dangerous.

You see them faltering before you hear his groans swamp the room and his warm seed spring into you, filling you up like you’ve longed so bad for these past few weeks, finally getting the love you were so badly burning for.

He crushes down upon you, a sudden need to feel you as close as possible, to have you press your usual gentle kisses across his face, on his lips, all while he holds you close and slowly regains his breath and usual composure.

When he slips out of you you feel your legs shake a little and you know you’ll need a full night of rest to recover from what he’s done to you, but it doesn’t really matter, ‘cause it was worth it.

He collapses aside from you, taking hold of your wrist and tugging you along to rest on top of him without saying a word. You chuckle faintly against his neck, not able to resist relishing this intimate feeling. You’ve finally got him all for yourself.

Until you hear the oven alarm go off.

[someonexsomeone]

Valentine

Title: Valentine

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Life is difficult when you're living through a war, but no one told him how hard it would be to handle the after.

Authors Note: Day 4!! I almost missed this week with all the hecticness happening in my life right now, including a stress rash that has spread to my face. Also, because my roommate finally got me to download the FF.net app and all I want to do is read all day. Thank you for everyone who has been liking and leaving kind messages on these! You have no idea how much it makes my day :)

For a long time, the word ‘after’ didn’t exist for Draco Malfoy. A simple word, a word much too short to hold such meaning, such a tight grip on his life, but a word that made his skin bristle like he was hit with a skin-tingling hex. ‘After’ was for people who had the luxury of knowing they were safe in the present, for people who could plan ahead and have some sense of trust that they would make it to ‘after’. Those people were the ones who didn’t have their formative years shaped by a brewing war, the aftermath of being on a losing side (because let’s be honest, Drace always thought, was there ever a time when they could have won?), and then somehow being on the losing side again. His Father was smart to keep things from him, to keep the secrets of the Death Eater whispers just that until they were sure the Dark Lord would actually rise again, but sometimes he wondered if knowing longer would have given him a chance to change, to prepare, to forgo the memory that shot ice through his veins. After all, most people didn’t learn evil incarnate was being resurrected over family dinner.

No, Draco was not ‘most people’, and that made the word ‘after’ that much more terrifying.

During the war, there was hardly time to think about the present, let alone the aftermath. His days were spent hiding, using the one tool in his arsenal he could always trust to get out of participating in the worst of the killing, and using his ability to repress bad memories to cope with those times he couldn’t get out of them. Bullying his classmates, pretending to believe in the Dark Lord’s every desire, playing the role of the perfect heir, all those things he could do in the present. Fake it till you make it, as the muggles say. Those were easy, consequences or rewards come quickly when you have to stare something in the face and not think of the future.

And then one Harry Potter showed up at his house, the building that once made him feel safe and content turned into a dreary cave, face distorted in a near unrecognizable way and eyes that mirrored his own. All at once, the last six years of rivalry came crashing down on him, an ugly truth of near-perfect understanding that maybe, just maybe, the Boy-Who-Lived could actually understand him. Their eyes reflected the same fear, the same pressing desire for all of this to be over, to stop the fighting, the killing, the fear to think about what could come after. Because Harry Potter, the boy, the child, destined to kill the darkest Wizard in the last 100 years, also didn’t have the luxury of thinking of after. He, after all, had people to protect, just like Draco. 

So, in a moment that Draco would never be able to put a feeling towards, he looked at his aunt and lied, and felt the split second of desire to think about an after.

That was many years now, of course. Life continued on, even if it didn’t feel like you could hold on for a second longer. Boy-Wonder and his rowdy crew were able to save the day, Draco begrudgingly admitting to himself that there was always a part of him that hoped they would (though he would rather die than admit it out loud), and he walked hand in hand with his Mother to the apparition point, disappearing before the celebration began. He couldn’t think of an ‘after’ even then, hurrying to help his Mother hide their most prized Dark possessions, helping his Father reach out to anyone that would help their case on the Wizengamot, and burying the last bit of his fear so his hands wouldn’t shake when the Aurors arrived to collect them and any other known Death Eaters that survived the War. 

The last time he had seen Potter, at least in person, was during his trial. His Father, of course, was sent to Azkaban, his Mother placed on probation for her involvement, and him…let free. He couldn’t believe it. Even as half of the Wizengamot looked on with displeasure, Draco was let free, with minor charges, all based on the word of the same boy who he spent half his life abusing. Even Potter’s face flickered back and forth, like he couldn’t believe the decision he made, but his stance was resolute. Drace Malfoy would be let go as long as he paid a fine to rebuild part of the Wizarding World and a promise that if he ever committed another crime he would face the full force of the law. His Mother wept, his Father shocked. Draco, for lack of better understanding, refused to let himself feel anything but disgust. Disgust for being pitied, disgust for Potter’s good heart, disgust for the horrible ball of gratitude he felt swirling in his gut. He glared at Potter, who only met his eyes with a reflection of his own - now what?

He left London as soon as he could. There was, after all, a War to clean up. The decision was fast, too unknowing for even his Mother to comprehend, but there was something posted on the board outside the Wizengamot for a meeting to collect a group of eligible healers and potionmasters to travel the country, volunteering their time and effort to help in those worst off part of the country. He needed to get away, far away, so far that even his Mother’s compassionate eyes couldn’t reach. The effort was so in need of volunteers they only spared Draco a second glance, and a watchful eye for a while, before letting him join on.

What was supposed to be a few months turned into a few years, gaining more skills and knowledge than he would have ever been able to get working at St.Mungos. Not only did the open air allow his lung to fully breathe, something he once thought would be shallow for the rest of his life, but every day was a challenge in the best way, another victim coming forward with new turned lasting injuries, his healing abilities turned wandless, his potions more accurate than he ever thought possible. Pride, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time, weld in his chest every time his supervisor-turned-mentor complimented him and his work.

“Excellent brewing today, Draco,” she would say, patting him gently on the back.

Draco would just roll his eyes, smirking to himself, before muttering, “Naturally, which always earned him a smack on the back of his head. His smirk, more often than not, would turn into a small smile. And, he hated to admit it, he was starting to love the feeling.

Then, the dreaded day came.

“Your Father has passed,” his Mother’s letter said, a statement that to anyone but him would read emotionless. “His body is being removed from Azkaban next week. I’ll write once again when we’ve set a date for his funeral.”

And, like he had been living for longer than he could remember, Draco said a simple goodbye, a thank you for everything his colleagues had shown him, and left without a backward glance.

There was no time for ‘after’ once he left. Mother needed him, whether she wanted to admit it or not, the funeral arrangements needed his input, and the countless letters of condolences needed him. 

His Mother was worried about him as soon as he arrived.

“It’s alright if you need a moment, Draco dear. I can do these things if you need a moment.” There was very little Draco had to work through, if he was being honest with himself. There wasn’t much affection, if any, remaining towards his Father since before the War. When he was younger, yes, Draco can remember fondly the days he trailed behind his Father, imitating his every move in hopes that one day he would be as great a man. But, when War comes knocking, and your Father is a coward, the magical image from a child's perspective can be easily ruined. Though he had his self-preservation skills all thanks to his Father’s example, their relationship had dwindled until nothing remained but that of a ward and their master. His Father was not the one who took care of him all those years, he realized one afternoon as his Mother fussed over him, and had done nothing but prepare him to be a prize offered to the Dark Lord as a bargaining chip to save his own life. 

At the end of the day, Draco knew that though the man was a stranger to him by the end, he was still his Father. His Mother at one point loved him, though he doubted he would ever learn if it was a true love or merely an infatuation of nearness, he would not allow her stress to become overwhleming while trying to grieve properly. 

It was a never-ending stream of work, but it allowed an all too familiar feeling of dread to be easily pushed down in favor of productivity. There was no time to, not when the house needed to be readied for guests, the garden needed to be arranged to allow a mourning space, and guests themselves needed to be invited. Granted, the list had dwindled significantly in the aftermath of the war, but his Father deserved more than just an open invitation in the Daily Prophet. After all, he would roll over in his grave if so much as one person from the winning side showed up to his wake.

The day was just as busy as the preparations. Of course, Draco should have expected this, but there was such a difference between the planning and the doing. 

For the tenth time in the last hour, Draco ran his fingers along the seam of his collar, giving some distance between it and the sensitive skin around his neck. There was just something about the immaculate black robes he wore that made it suffocating to breathe and made the day that much harder. Draco’s resolve hardened. Yes, that must be it.

People were trickling in before the service began, offering their condolences to both him and his Mother. Narcissa was as regal and strong as she had been the day of the War, holding her head high. There wasn’t a hint of the woman who wept openly in front of the Wizengamot, the broken woman who was afraid of losing her only child, and instead found compassion. Even so, Draco occasionally ran his hand down her arm, reminding her he was there. 

“Oh, Cissy!” A woman yelled, practically throwing herself at his Mother. “I can’t believe it actually happened! The Wizengamot should have taken him out of there as soon as his health worsened, what a cruel bunch!”

Draco couldn’t help but stare, watching as his Mother politely took the older woman's hand,  patting it gently as if she was the one who just became a widow. He couldn’t help the scoff that left him.

A giggle beside him startled him.

“Some people just can’t let an event be about someone else.” Your voice was different, older, a little rougher, but the twitch of your lip was exactly how he remembered it. “I’m sorry about this. My grandmother is always for the dramatics.”

When your eyes met, he couldn’t help the clench of his heart. The corners softened, just the smallest bit of pity within them that made his entire body seize. The last time you looked at him like that, he was apparating away from the very thing that plagued his nightmares…

“Yes, well. I would appreciate it if you could get her under control before we begin.” Your brow twitched in surprise.

“Not a demand? My, my, Mr.Malfoy. Who has been influencing you to be so kind?” He bristled.

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re saying-”

“Yes, yes,” you said, waving your hand dismissively. “I promise to keep your secret. No one can know you’re kinder now, image is everything, right?” Despite the friendly tone you tried to keep, he couldn’t help the pang in his heart at the familiar words. The words he said to you so long ago, maybe the last conversation you ever had. “Don’t worry, she’s a dramatic one, but she’s not that heartless.” Draco didn’t respond, merely narrowing his eyes in your direction. “What? Don’t trust me?”

“Those aren’t the words I would use, no.” You winced dramatically. At least he knew where you got it from now.

“Hurtful, Malfoy. But I suppose you have a point.”

The silence that stretched was painfully awkward.

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly remembering where he was, “for attending.”

“I don’t know if your Father would be too happy to see me, but I’m not really here for him.” Draco raised a brow, confusion evident on his face. You met his gaze head-on, smile turning a little fond. “I like this look on you.”

“Can you hear yourself?” He couldn’t stop the snap in his words.

“It’s not very often I can bring you to confusion,” you said, completely ignoring his words. Your hand raised gently, pausing when Draco flinched, before gently resting it against his cheek. Resting, he guessed, was generous. Your hand hovered cautiously near his face, close enough he could feel the heat from your palm, feel the electricity crackled between your skin strongly enough that it felt like you were actually touching him. For a desperate moment, he wanted to push his head into your open hand, take any comfort he could while he could. Who knew when he would get it again.

“What…what are you doing?” Your thumb was near undetectable, smoothing away the scrunch between his brows. Well, trying to at any rate.

“I’ll be staying far past the end.” Your voice was quiet now. “Whenever you’re ready to need me after, I’ll be here. ”

Draco felt his breath hitch. You smiled delicately, meeting his eyes once more, before pulling your hand away and ending whatever moment of peace was created from your nearness. He watched your hair sway as you turned, grabbing your grandmother's arm and gently leading her to a group of people nearby, relieving Narcissa of her duty with a soft condolence. He couldn’t help his eyes as they stayed on your figure, watching and memorizing every one of your moves, letting his mind wander.

“I’m not very fond of the grandmother, but…maybe I can learn to tolerate her.” Draco blinked, meeting his Mother’s eyes.

“Why would you ever need to get along with…her?” His Mother scoffed, the first unladylike behavior she had allowed herself to do in a long time. Draco’s eyes widened.

“Draco, my dear. I know your Father and I weren’t the best example, but I had hoped you learned a little something.” He continued to look at her quizzically. “Go after, okay? You deserve a quiet moment, and I have a feeling your meeting will be exactly what you need right now.”

After, Draco thought. For the first time in who knows how long, Draco let himself be excited for it.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist  l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Non BL Fan watches Only Friends - Part II (Part I)

Ok. So it turns out that although I had to convince them to watch this show and share some thoughts with me, Neely really committed to the bit and is now enjoying the writing part more than the show. When I first talked to them about this, they said it would take 2/3 weeks to watch all of it. Turns out they watched 9 episodes in 3 days. And they already finish the show by the time this gets posted. So the final part of this will come soon.

So, they wrote a lot about episodes 5 - 9. And I haven't really been able to catch up to them so this time I won't be adding to it. Also, this is gonna be a bit long so if you want more general view of their thoughts on the show so far, skip to the end, to the conclusion. They separated it more or less by character so I'll add titles so it gets easier to read.

Neely's thoughts episodes 5 through 9 Just quick notes first:

It's creepy to me that Top's Halloween costume is a us army uniform 😬 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

I'm glad Chueam had a little bit more presence, even if just as supporting act.

I’m annoyed at this thing of framing Ray as taking Mew on "a bad path" as if Mew has no agency. Mew just spent ages teasing Top with no sex and in that relationship he had all the agency, and felt able to put his boundaries, but now he can't refuse alcohol and drugs? Ofc it's reactive to what happened, but so is Ray's usage and nobody seems to give him the same credit or patience. That said, Ray is being a lil bitch in his pursuit of Mew and how he reverted into treating Sand with entitlement.

Now longer:

Boston

Boston just keeps one uping himself, at this point he's just going for asshole so at least he's not pretending, and to me, he's on a league of his own; the "girl"boss, gatekeep, gaslight self-made villain of the series. But also, what I realise has been paining me in this portrayal is - and I think this happens in other media with so-called 'sluts' - that there's a difference between being a slut and the very reality of sex addiction as an illness. And media often does this muddled mix of both, where it's not really an addiction in how they show it because often the reality of that is too much to be representing on your average TV, but it's also not being a slut. I just wanna say: sluts are happy most times. Fucking is nice, it's not always a speed-train to self-destruction, it can be about curiosity and playfulness and desire. It can be intimate and caring and genuine, even if it's a one-night stand. Sluts don't so often feel remorse about fucking people, because they are not suddenly controlled by some demonic entity of lust that cannot reject fucking even if it blows away all of their life and surroundings; sluts actively choose to fuck because they want to fuck. AND 7/10 TIMES IT IS NICE! Sluts also are not always ready and willing for actions with anyone - they have tastes and standards and preferences like most people. Boston has rejected 0 people in this show until now, and more often than not he has regretted that sex, or it has been ultimately destructive to him or people he loves, and now he fucks Chueam's brother and very clearly we start the next episode with a strong guilt scene.

I just wouldn't call Boston a slut, he's maybe a sex addict, or using sex for numbing the pain of repressing his sexuality to his dad - in a parallel to how Ray uses substances to numb his own family stuff. Sluts are some of the nicest people I've met, cause also to do that respectfully you do have to have good people skills and empathy, sex is about knowing how to relate so you do get good at...relating in general, even non-sexually. But yeah, my defense of ethical random sex for another time.

Of course there's lots of gay men, especially those who are repressed in some way (like Boston is with his dads campaign and having to hide his sexuality because of it) that end up using sex in this toxic way, as well as for validation, power, a sense of control, or just this detachment that ultimately comes from deep internalised homophobia and a sense of not deserving real intimacy and tenderness and love. Again, I think that's very real within gays - I'd say maybe my experience within western (- socialised) communities, that's often a pattern I notice more in older gays, like 40 on - generations who felt AIDS and criminalization and mortality in a way we cannot begin to imagine. So maybe within a Thai context it's more common that this repression and reaction to repression is still common in younger gay men? I don't know enough about this; I'm also mostly in quite progressive (gender-)queer communities in very out-there European queer centres, so maybe more trad western gays despite generation might feel this. Here, I wouldn't consider this group of friends trad-gays. But again, underlining all my own statements here is that cultural context possibly impacts this reading a lot and I won't pretend to know queer-thai pov.

But that's how I'm justifying this from my angle. Boston's not a slut, we gathered as a council in an emergency meeting and he has surpassed the max levels of regret and guilt and self-destruction we are allowed post-sex on a monthly basis. I'm positioning him as either sex addiction or using sex to numb pain, or both - an addiction grown from his family situation and hiding who he is. I think there's a nice parallel between his story and rays that I'm tentatively enjoying as an audience. Both are very real in the gay world too, I'd say.

Mew

I liked the confrontation scene where Mew played the track during sex. I also liked Mew's very 'meh' revenges - I think it suits the character, felt a bit too much ado about nothing, but while still being cruel. Like the burning of the paper but in a way it didn't actually trigger Top, so it's quite mean and malicious but with no real effect; and the same with Boston where he goes through all the effort of getting that fucking video to confront him and scare him and then just gives it to him, nothing happens, no effect. But still almost genuinely malicious. I think it suits the character, Mew is incredibly beige and non-eventful, a personification of a yawn but with tints of malevolence. Just think of the build up of virginity and the importance giving to losing it, and then uneventfully he looses it in a flash because Top emptied a baggy of coke. He's not concerned with actually doing or not doing a thing, he wields his full power as a character in withholding until he feels he can't withhold anymore, until he will gain more from giving that from holding back, this was proven to me even by how he was initially scared he'd lose Top for being inexperienced at sex, and when he decides to do it, he calls Boston and directly says "i feel like he'll get bored of me if I don't".

I imagine he will do the same with taking Top back; he's gonna extend it as much as he can. He weaponizes this type of power, having something someone else wants, and holding that against them: I think you can see this with Ray, with Top, now with Boston. So I liked his revenge gimmicks as a spectator, and I was glad it avoided us audiences witnessing him forcing Boston to come out; nobody needs to see that ever but let alone in the middle of this chaos, it would be too far on the unhinged scale for me.

Top

I'm still not buying Top. The way he is being acted just comes across so two-faced to me; and I don't know if that's purposefully trying to tell me something or if I have a wrong reading of the actors expressions and gaze.

But Top and his attempts at making amends... I get it, its meant to be sweet and caring towards Mew, but he's still holding on to this toxic controlling side most times. Like at the beginning of the post-break up he's trying to act all sad puppy for Mew but he's also still running away blaming everything for his own mistake instead of taking responsibility, including visiting Boston to blame him and yell at him.

When he comes to give Mew books as apology gift he says "I'm here cause I'm his boyfriend" and I'm like... 👀 Again I think some people might find that sweet but it gives me the ick, it gives me controlling partner, it gives me gaslighting, is toxic - you're broken up, acknowledge your mistake, acknowledge that the person ended things with you, and start making amends from that place.

It also didn't sit well with me that he cuddled Mew when Mew was passed out drunk. Yes cute nice caring to put him in bed and, ok, sure, pass a wet towel on his face and neck if you want, and I can even hold my side-eye and skip a breath at taking his trousers for comfort but.. this person told you almost halfway through a vomit to leave, don't stay and cuddle him as if you're still "boyfriends"; consent for that has been very clearly renounced.

I find him a bit coercive, in this way that is very common in romantic media troupes. Like I'm always on edge when he's on screen cause I feel he could be Joe Goldberg from YOU or something if shown from his perspective (sorry for another netflix comparison). But I'm open to being criticized on that because YOU did just taint my reading of every attempt at more traditional gentlemen romantic character on TV.

Sand

Poor Sand :(

Ok also unnecessary to seek revenge in that way and telling ray about the recording was oh so stupid. He did ultimately caused everyone's chaos without actually being direct about it and in a way that ended up implicating everyone; and he was our most wholesome character, so that didn't pass unnoticed to me but still...

Poor sand :(

I was happy with how quickly and undramatically and genuinely he apologized to Nick and supported Nick and assumed his mistake. Hands down the most genuine principled character in this series in both romantic love and friendship.

Ray

Personally I very very much feel Ray tho. Pursuing this infatuation that is nothing but your own projection after a person has repeatedly rejected you both with and without a partner, both 2 years ago and a few weeks/months ago. - instead of someone you have gotten to know and be intimate with and you're falling for reciprocally. Like been there, it feels stupid and embarrassing to watch, but also, I feel him. To desire this dream you've been feeding in the midst of years of trauma and addiction and feeling aimless in life, he had fed this so so much as if it was his only way out of the cycle, his only salvation, that of course it holds more influence still in him than the very real possibility of mutual love & care with Sand.

We could've had a mature poly maybe, if he is really so adamant of "I can have feelings for two people", but I don't really trust that in his state, and anyway if so, do it with respect. Instead he just drops Sand and goes back to treating him a bit like he is service, or guaranteed, or like he can buy him. The way Sand got into that bath tub after Ray broke his arm and he went to help him recover, baby nooo get out of there cmon.

Also on Ray.. I wanted to point out that while he was with Sand he became so much better as a person, less messy, less entitled, he opened up. But in no way did he stop drinking.

I'm not arguing that drinking that much is a good thing, it definitely isn't good and he should work towards calming it down. but he keeps being blamed for drinking alcohol, and like alcohol is destroying his life, but actually alcohol is more a consequence than a cause (as often is). He was drinking and drunk and doing drugs with Sand, but he was held, and he was relating, cared for, and he was turning out to be a genuinely nice person. Yes I think he could learn how to give better care back to Sand, even in their best moments, but I believe he was on a right path.

The chaos within him returns when the whole Mew infatuation is triggered again. And this makes sense - he drinks because he was always rejected by his family, importantly so, his mother. Mew is a continuation of that rejection, Mew is what his destructive depressive side keeps feeding on to tell himself he is worthless, that he doesn't deserve to be loved, that he will always be rejected. He has deep abandonment and rejection trauma, exacerbated but not started by alcohol. And sadly, he is surrounded by people in their own individualistic, predominantly romantic treadmills, that do not know how to be friends. His main issue is not getting intoxicated by alcohol, is being drowned in a fairly toxic "friend" group. And this is another example of why this show cannot write good relationships that aren't monogamous and romantic, and will always privilege those. Sand is the saving romance to what friendship in this universe will never be powerful enough to heal. And I find this overall message of 1-1 romantic love trumps everything, that is drilled into the essence of this show, deeply problematic. But more on that later.

Nick

Nick..........................

I don't know really. It's too much

It's so delusional poor guy.

It's too much for me to relate I think. I relate to the overwhelmingness of feeling, and I appreciate the representation of a deep feeler in this series and within queers or gays. Like he really said I will sob snort for this boy. But on the grand scheme of: wire-tapping Boston’s car, listening to the recording on what looked like noise canceling headphones, begging for him to stay, messaging and stalking the party... But also - giving Mew the info about AND the name of the person with Boston's sextape? He's so lost, no action he takes has a logic sense in any goal or narrative.

And I think it's cause he's lost between his good ethics and values and his obsessive infatuation for Boston. He's also generally too much of a puppet for everyone, he's lost and deranged for a boy who gave him not only crumbs but a tiny amount of crumbs about to get moldy. I found his fall into heartbreak and desperation so cringe to watch, and I felt really both sad and pity and shame for him - it was almost empathizing at one point cause we all have been played to some extent, but it went too far for me to be able to relate. But I feel for him, and also, I eye-roll for him in equal measure.

Chueam

I'm still disappointed with not getting proper Chueam content, and a story line that doesn't revolve around the messy gays. I would love if we had left the misogynist troupe of the fag-hag in the 90s and early-2000s (I know she's a lesbian, but still), and started treating women and giving them attention and stories, and defining them for themselves over being some balance or moral compass for the men. That would be much more queer, even if she was straight, than whatever this background lesbianism they went for, it's giving Willow in Buffy but set in G-A-Y Late (gay club in London, substitute for your own gay club reference).

Generally, to conclude, and sorry it's so long cause I don't feel like editing:

There's a few things that are becoming quite apparent to me, that I still would love and think it's possible to change a bit, but have little hopes it will.

1) This dude hates sex! (the creator). All the sex in this series has weird dynamics in it, it's like none of them can just fuck. Even the "slut" that is Boston, we are told he fucks around a lot and there's so many guys, but every instance of fucking that we actually are shown or are alluded to on screen, has resulted in something bad. There has been 0 genuine, non-weaponised, non-traumatic, instances of sex in this show, that weren't a part of, or even the start, of a train of terrible consecutive downhill events. Even Virgin Mew's first time is tainted by him using it as coin to get Top to stop doing coke, and also tainted by Top being dishonest just before when they just both said they'd be honest. Sex is a plot point to make everything go to shit in this universe. Let people fuck unharmed!

2) For a queer show, it's really going above and beyond to paint every aspect of queer life that isn't a straight-edge, monogamous, and orientated towards building family and career, as negative. We are meant to feel for poor delusional Nick, because he is trying to save Boston from himself and his proclivity for prostate with a promise of love and monogamy. Top himself is now beginning to assume this role in relation to Mew. We even get a random-ass parallel scene of Jennie the bar owner having a break up with her partner cause she doesn't wanna move in together. Like allow me to ask why we needed this? they were sweet and reliable as side-characters, there were numerous other plot points they could've picked to give them some spotlight, and to shine light on the tribulations of dating as trans, and trusting your partner as trans, which is the closest to a good point I can dig out of that scene. But they went for an explosive argument that equates not wanting to move in together and do a next step in normative romance, as being an issue, as being the only continuation, no other parallel paths to love can exist. There is no future in relationships in this universe that doesn't end in your typical nuclear family constellation. And this is a queer show!!!

3) For a show with "Friends" on the title, and presented in its first episode exposition as about this group of friends, it is very unconcerned with the idea of friendship.

There's a loose connection between some characters but rarely have I seen acts of true friendship. I think Sand and Nick is the best, potentially only, good representation of a healthy friendship with no extra manipulative dynamics, even with the unfortunate tainting with betrayal, the apology and resolution is rooted in a healthy and horizontal and unselfish friendship; Mew supporting Ray when he (almost?) took an overdose in the bath years before is one too; Sand consistently helping Ray could be considered that even though the intentions are muddled with romance; maybe Top now helping Mew we could make an effort to see it as an act of friendship because he told Chueam he wanted to help him even if they don't end up together. Of course Chueam too, but again she's the woman insert to be the balance to the slutty selfish men, the voice of reason on the other side of the scale (I don't feel like going further into the stereotypical gender binarism of this, but...).

I'm scrambling so much for examples that even Boston giving Mew a slight phone pep-talk before he loses his virginity could be considered one in this world of absolute friend scarcity? But it's all a reach. They all have fairly complex histories and including some trauma, and not once have they had a heart-to-heart and tried to help each other through, they base their interactions in moaning about their current - or their pursuits of - romantic relationships, or judging those who are not pursuing them, or have addictions that impact them in finding one.

The occasions of help happen ultimately because people have reached such a desperate state that they need a dramatic intervention; and the fact characters reach this level of desperation shouldn't surprise us, because ultimately all of them lack the foundational support of a good friend group.

And this makes sense with my point 2 above - this show is deeply unconcerned with any type of relationship that isn't 1-on-1 romantic partner love. These folks just happen to share space, almost at random, in their lifelong pursuit of a regular long term partnership that ultimately exists in a contextual friendless void. Which makes me think about the wider context of why they're spending time together and this hostel they're opening for a school project. Of course they were "friends" before, and so we are told, but the moments we experience of them together is one in which they are out together for a reason, for school, and not simply because they love each other and want to hang out. I'd love to see them leave their current partners at home a few more times and just hang out in a bar as pals.

The End

And that's what they wrote until episode 9. Neely already sent me their final thoughts so I'll post them later this week.

Thanks for reading💜

I'll tag some people that left comments last time or reblogged. @doyou000me @respectthepetty @italianpersonwithashippersheart @o-nao-lugar @lurkingshan @heiscomingtomygrave If anyone else wants to get tagged for the final one let me know.

[murdererofthumbs]

I think we can all agree, after this episode, that Roman is going down into incredibly dark spiral, which will only get worse, because he is not processing his grief, like, at all. I think Lukas’s words had to be ringing through Roman’s head this whole episode, when he said that if Logan was here now, he would be embarrassed (disappointed, always fucking disappointed) in what Kendall and Roman are doing with his legacy. It shows in the way that Roman aggressively tries to exert the control over his situation and his self-image, by firing people who he should be keeping close. All because he thinks that this is how his dad would behave, that this is what he would have wanted (and because everyone is seeing him as a failure, as ‘not good enough’ replacement for Logan, as a joke that he always was and always will be). There is a clear disconnect between his actions and his emotions, and everything in-between is just a dull afterimage of repressed guilt, and grief, and loss that he cannot possibly overcome. He is trying to regain power, even though he doesn’t want it, even though it was drilled into him that he can only be happy when all his control is taken away from him.

Roman does have lucid moments throughout this episode, where he realises that he pushed too far and made a mistake, but he doesn’t have the support that he needs to reel him back from the downward spiral of self-destructive power trips. Kendall is too wrapped up in his own manic sense of grandiosity, whereas Shiv attempts to keep herself from being pushed away from the business, by manipulating the situation to retain the sense of control. And Roman is left by himself in this sense of loss, where the only person who made him validated was gone forever; where he will never be able to get the same feeling of approval that only Logan was able to grant him. His sun is gone, and he is left stranded in the darkness, freezing in his own shame and self-hatred and sense of inadequacy. Roman Roy always gets it wrong.

The crucial problem is that Roman is never going to be able to comfortably emulate Logan. He is too guided by his emotions, too attached to the concepts of love and family, that the vulnerability that is an integral part of who he is, usually ends up being his downfall. His hurt feelings are always going to take the front seat, and guide his actions straight into self-destruction. In this episode, both of his attempts to imitate his dad ended with frenzied firing, and committing really two cardinal mistakes, one of them definitely bigger than the other. But most importantly, each time he did it, you could see a certain twitchiness about Roman (which was always there, like a background noise that could be easily missed if it wasn’t ringing so loudly), how his body inadvertently knows that this behaviour doesn’t fit, that it’s not really who he is, that he cannot possibly be a killer, when he spent so much of his life balancing on the edge of the knife. How his upbringing caused him to mistake abuse for love, to the point when he seeks that sense of degradation and shame as the only ways to reach fulfilment. To make him whole. Without Logan, Roman is just a landfill of shattered pieces, a puppet with his strings cut off, breaking at the seems. From episode to episode that grief for all he has lost, and for all he will never be able to get, keeps pouring out, and I don’t know how long it will be until there is nothing left to give.

[daylighteclipsed]

(i'm the anon you just answered) thank you for taking the time to give me such an in depth response. gave me much to think about :] you make a great point about sora revisiting castle oblivion on coded and accepting the fact that he's losing his memories while also being confident that he can work through it and gain them back. i never pieced that together on my own and it's very interesting!

Of course! And you know, it’s something Coded actually touches on even before Data Castle Oblivion. Before Data Sora and Data Riku are reset, Data Sora tells Mickey, Donald, and Goofy that he’s okay with losing his memories because he’s still got them as friends. “As long as you remember us and everything that we’ve been through together… Well then, who knows?”

The sentiment’s then echoed in Data Castle Oblivion, as a parallel to CoM. Mickey tells Data Sora, “Inside your heart, the adventures you shared with the friends you made in the datascape will always live on. And you know what? I’ll bet that’s also true for all the time you spent with the folks that those cards showed to you.”

Data Sora realizes the fact that he feels pain over forgetting his friends means that his heart’s still connected to these friends, and so it’s possible to recall these memories by using the pain he feels, rather than despair over the loss of them. He’s in pain because love is still there. That pain is the key.

Then, a little less related, the fight with Data Roxas, which is about empathy and compassion. The ability to feel for others hurting because you have experienced pain. And I would argue, this also parallels reality — this is the message the real Roxas and Sora reflect. While Sora doesn’t need to be taught compassion, he does fail to show sympathy towards Roxas until he realizes Roxas has a heart/is hurting deeply.

Anyway, fast forward a bit. Data Sora meets Namine who tells him we can wipe our pain away on the surface, “but there’s also a pain that always stays with you.” Once again, returning to that CoM parallel.

She then tells Data Sora the other crucial part of this lesson: “And if it happens that the hurt is too great for you to bear it alone, well, then you turn to a friend close to your heart.” You open up and let others help you with your pain, something the real Sora — while he will absolutely criticize others (like Riku) for not doing — desperately needs to do himself.

And that’s true! While nobody likes to go through tough times, we all do and sharing our pain is another way of connecting with others. Trusting others to help us with the hard stuff does strengthen our bonds with them. :)

All in all, I more or less see this as the arc Sora was supposed to go through because of CoM. This is the personal growth we should’ve seen from him, and we can see that it mirrors Riku’s arc. But Sora’s unable to face his pain head-on and accept it. Instead, he forgets/represses his memories of CoM and the pain attached to them, so his character’s kind of stunted, with his pain just building and building over each game, with each bad experience, the longer he avoids facing and accepting it…

I think it’s all coming to a head in KH4. I’m hoping Sora will remember CoM (especially since that game featured Marluxia and now Sora’s with Strelitzia), but either way. Sora’s friends can extend a hand, but he’s the one who has to take it. He has to choose to help himself, to save himself.

[dreamologisth2o]

Why I Believe Endersmile Is Canon

Because I’m on a bit of an Endersmile binge--

This is all gonna be very messy and just me putting my thoughts together and I’ll probably not be going through the VODs for exact timestamps or anything because that’s exhausting and I applaud the people who do, but here are my thoughts on Endersmile and why I’m 100% convinced it’s canon. They’re besties your honor.

/rp Any names mentioned are referring to their dsmp characters and not the streamers themselves unless specified

First off: The Disc. Dream trusts Ranboo, a lot. He trusts him so much that he literally gave Ranboo one of the two discs he needed to pull off his big plan at the finale. He trusted Ranboo, so much that Ranboo deciding to give the disc back to Tommy or Tubbo wasn’t an option, even though Ranboo was friends with both, which he knew. I don’t know why he gave Ranboo the disc, or how he got the disc from Skeppy in the first place, and I’m sure he did have a hundred and one back up plans for if Ranboo did decide to give Tommy the disc, but asking Ranboo to hold onto the disc in the first place means Dream trusted him to a degree, and that’s big coming from Mr. “Reserved”.

Second: Knowing Dream’s Voice. Ranboo knows/remembers Dream’s voice well enough that he hears it whenever he’s in the panic room, that his subconscious uses Dream’s voice to force Ranboo to confront his fears. For a guy who hasn’t had any one on one time or conversations with Dream in VC on stream, he sure does a really good job imagining his voice. /s 

Basically, they must have spoken, a lot. They must have spent time together outside planning for things or exchanging items or whatever. So much time, in fact, that Dream and Ranboo both end up sharing the same ideology of “People not sides” of “One big happy family” of “Being the person that stops conflicts” of “Being on all sides” of “Mediating between those sides” of “Choosing the side they think is right”. 

During Ranboo’s prison visit dream/nightmare, the Voice tells Ranboo that the only reason Ranboo hasn’t been hearing it lately, is because he hasn’t been speaking with Dream as often. That Ranboo and Dream had talked with each other nearly everyday. And I’m inclined to believe that because the mere existence of the voice proves he’s heard Dream’s voice a lot, or he has a very good memory of Dream’s voice, which, considering his memory problems probably isn’t the case. This is further supported by how ever since Dream’s been in prison, ever since Ranboo banned himself from the prison, he hasn’t heard even a hint of Dream’s voice, not even as he’s remembering more and more.

Third: The Disc War Finale. During the disc war finale, we have in universe proof and out of character confirmation from both cc!Dream and cc!Ranboo that the characters had been staring at each other during the entire thing. Some friends on a discord server have also pointed out how Ranboo appeared to be avoiding Tommy’s gaze unless Tommy’s distracted. And during the entire thing Ranboo’s the only one not holding out a weapon, instead he’s got a book and quill in his hand. We’ve now also got confirmation that Ranboo was Enderwalking during the Disc War Finale, which makes all the strange behaviors make sense because if they’re friends, if they’re allies, then Ranboo didn’t show up to fight Dream. Then Dream might’ve been trying to convey something to Ranboo, like perhaps trying to keep Ranboo from doing something stupid and revealing their alliance. Especially if he planned on being put in Pandora, he really doesn’t need his friend to try and “save” him and ruin the whole plan.

Fourth: The Voice. I am inclined to believe the things the voice says. Why? Because everything the voice is talking about are all the things Ranboo doesn’t want to confront, doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to remember. The voice isn’t malicious. It’s not even Dream, it’s just using Dream’s voice to make Ranboo listen. And Ranboo knows it’s just himself. (also out of character confirmation from the cc!s that the voice is NOT Dream and never has been, it’s just a manifestation of all the shit Ranboo’s repressed coming up and slapping him in the face) Everything the voice does, all the things it says, is trying to get Ranboo to remember the “bad” things he’s done, to remember that he was on Dream’s side. To force him to face that side of himself that might be capable of doing bad things, if there’s a good enough reason. It exaggerates things, it makes them out to be worse than they actually are, but that’s how it’s able to get Ranboo’s attention, that’s how it’s able to force him to think about those things. Ranboo won’t do anything until he’s forced to face the problem, the Voice is just trying to get Ranboo to do that.

This is why I believe Ranboo DID blow up the community house. Why he’s working with or has worked for Dream in the past. Why he willingly gave Dream his memory book, possibly to create a visible conflict between them and ensure no one would connect them as allies, like what Dream wanted to do with Punz. And also because the other things it’s said, such as Ranboo being given the Cat disc to hold onto, have been proven to be true. Nothing the Voice has said has been confirmed a lie. And many of the things it’s talked about aren’t things we or Ranboo can find the answer to unless he talks to Dream, which is until the dude’s rescued from the prison, isn’t happening. (cc!Dream where’s your Dream lore?!?!?!)

That said, if Ranboo was the one to blow up the community house, then Dream was covering for him during the Disc War Finale. He didn’t have to. He could’ve thrown Ranboo under the bus. But he chose to take on that blame, make himself look even worse in the eyes of everyone gathered there while he was at their mercy, to protect Ranboo from similar persecution. Doesn’t this remind you of anything? And Ranboo’s got a track record of making friends with those who help him.

Fifth: The Visits. Ranboo has visited Dream in prison multiple times. At the very least at least 2 times that we have direct confirmation of, and probably even more. His visits are consistent enough that just a few days after Ranboo bans himself from the prison, Dream notices and starts a strike, tells Sapnap that Ranboo’s stopped visiting, asks him, his best friend who literally threatened to perma-kill him if he were to ever leave his horrible situation, to send a message to Ranboo. (which, I guess Dream still kinda trusts Sapnap despite everything that’s happened, huh?) 

Why would Ranboo visit? Unless they’re friends, unless they’re allies? Because even Dream’s so called best friend only ever visited once. Even Bad who Dream claims to have been the nicest only ever visited once. And while Tommy and Quackity visited more than once, their multiple visits have very clear reasons behind them, while Ranboo’s just, don’t. 

And consider: How did Ranboo know about the things that were said during the Disc War Finale, word for word, line for line, that he wasn’t present for, unless someone’s told him? Unless he heard about it from Dream himself. Unless that was what they were talking about. Unless that’s part of the reason Ranboo kept visiting Dream. 

Sixth: The Lessons. I don’t know about you, but giving life lessons to someone sounds like something you’d do with a friend, and not just a “puppet”. The whole lessons book gives off really mentor mentee vibes, and considering how Ranboo’s following in Dream’s goal of stopping conflict and uniting the server, well. And the lessons aren’t even malicious, or designed to push Ranboo away from others. In fact, many of them, especially the last few ones we see, are designed to protect Ranboo! Unless Ranboo’s safety was a top priority for Dream, there’s not much reason to pass those lessons down. This lines up incredibly well with Dream taking the blame of the community house’s destruction during the Disc War Finale, as well as his protective streak at his own expense when it comes to his allies and the people he cares about. Which means Ranboo is someone he cares about, which means they’re friends! They’re besties your honor!

Seventh: Ranboo’s Vehement Denial. Ranboo is infamous for being an unreliable narrator, for being in incredible denial despite all evidence supporting otherwise. Which means his vehement denial that Dream can be anything but bad is a fairly obvious red flag that that’s not true, and that Ranboo has reason to believe it’s not true, but chooses to actively ignore or forget those reasons and attempts to reinforce the “everything’s Dream’s fault, he can never change and will always be bad” mentality, that sounds like something he stole from Tommy or c!Dream antis, because he doesn’t want to face the fact that he has reasons for believing the opposite. At this point, I am 100% on board with the idea that all these unprompted instances of Dream hate is just a blatant cover up of how that’s not true at all. (Which he touches on, ever so briefly, when he renovates the second stronghold room)

Aaaaand that’s it! For the most part. I could touch on how Enderboo is hoarding all the backbone in this relationship and that the dynamic between Enderboo and Ranboo is closer to that of someone waking up after a sugar high or going for three days straight without sleep than it is two completely separate people or someone who’s literally sleepwalking (and that “Enderboo” is his normal state and “Ranboo” is the sleep deprived not thinking straight state). But this post is already obscenely long and I should end it here. 

TL;DR: They’re besties, your honor.

Anyways, if you got this far, thanks for reading!

[clouds-rambles]

Birthday Love Letter

Happy birthday to one of my main comfort characters. I love you so much Xiao and I’ll do anything for you.

You and Xiao have been partners of millennia, as much as Xiao dislikes the constant, yearly, birthdays he can’t say no to you or your gifts. Also suspend your disbelief for some of these things lmao

Pairing(s);  Xiao x reader

Warnings; fluff, angst, hurt no comfort

Keep reading under the cut!

My love Xiao,

It’s a shame that I’ve broken millennia long tradition of bothering you on your birthday but as you’re aware our line of work can drive us apart for longer periods of time. And it’s likely you can’t really comprehend the pile of work I have right now in the office since Rex Lapis’ death. As much as he deserves retirement I am very tired of this constant influx of paperwork, I cannot wait to get back on the field again.

Anyway, enough about me. I hope you’re having a good birthday and I hope before reading this Goldet has already surprised you with the almond tofu you love to eat. I know, I know, you like making the tofu but take it as a gift from me while you wait for me to come back to Wangshu. 

I have another gift for you but you can’t receive it until I get back from my work. I promise it’s worth the wait though.

You know Ganyu keeps asking about you. Is it true that you haven’t seen here in the better part of 300 years? As much as I don’t like nagging you, especially on this day, you should really visit her. She talks about you like the children of Liyue talk about their older siblings. As cute as it is in foresight, in hindsight I’ve heard the same story about you three times since being back. And the kicker? I was there when the thing happened. Please Ganyu I’m begging I know the story, I know it well I was there.

Zhongli also misses you, he mentions how often Ganyu and I visit but you’re yet to go. It makes me a little sad, even if you just stop by for a cup of tea I think that will make him more than happy. He’s a mortal now Xiao, I would hate to see you so distraught if you didn’t get to see him before his mortal life is over.

Enough about me nagging. I’ll be home soon enough, as much as you hate to admit it I love your hugs and I’m dearly missing them. You won’t say you are but I know how you melt into my hugs. It makes me want to love and cherish you forever more.

You know I remember your first birthday we celebrated, do you? We had known each other for 100 years, which in reality is a short time, but that was my first 100 years being blessed with mortality. Everything I did was fast for no reason. Not the point. I travelled up Jueyen Karst to pick you a bunch of flowers after taking a decade to pry your birthday out of you and I presented them to you. I remember when we first started really opening up to each other you told me about how you had chosen to preserve the flowers. Do you have them still, or have they decayed completely? I don’t understand much about flowers so I’m not sure how long flowers keep. Have you kept other things I’ve given you. I have, if you look in our room in the Inn you should find most of the things you’ve given me. That’s our little secret though hehe. 

I should wrap up this letter before I get too engrossed and write you a books worth of letter. 

I love you Xiao, and I hope you have a great birthday and I hope you liked the tofu I made. I’ll see you soon

[name]

The last letter that he had ever received from you five years ago to the day. Five more birthdays he hasn’t spent with you. Five years in terms of immortals shouldn’t feel this long, some centuries have blinked past before he can often not find memories of random centuries. So why have these five years been so painful? Xiao has been alone before, not in a long time but he has done it.

Just the weight of your death weighs heavy on his shoulders, your death is much heavier than the others he’s collected. He had known you the longest, fought the most battles with you, loved you the most, cherished you the most...

Xiao remembers when he got word of your death. Two weeks after his birthday the ex-geo archon himself turns up at the Inn. Zhongli had made it clear that if the adepti wanted to see him or not was up to them, so seeing the ex archon before Xiao was more than baffling.

When the news was delivered that you were assassinated in your sleep by an unknown assailment sounded like a sick joke. And in all honesty it was just a sick joke until your funeral a week and a half later.

So many people turned up wanting to wish the now dead adepti well wishes and comfort in the afterlife. So many flowers, so many people, so much chatter. As much as he hates the latter two Xiao endured the service wanting to say goodbye like everyone else.

Xiao didn’t notice himself hyperventilating until Zhongli had embraced him and helped him settle his breaths. Zhongli couldn’t find himself to utter words of comfort for the person that Xiao has spent millennia with. Yours and his relationship was beyond mortal comprehension since you had spent many hundreds of generations together.

 Xiao shakes his head and wipes his eyes. If only he went to see you on his birthday. You were still alive on his birthday just tucked away in the harbour. If only Xiao’s aversion of crowds and people were what kept him away from you over the Rex Lapis crisis. If only he had-

The blaming of the self isn’t a healthy thing to do, Xiao had blamed himself for almost everything that resulted in your death within the first year of your death. There wasn’t much else to blame himself about.

Xiao had even contemplated joining you but was hit by the realisation that one you would want him to keep living and two if he dies there’s no telling what millennia long repressed, festering demons would unleash upon the country he has sworn to protect.

Xiao turns and notices that Goldet had snuck up when he was lost in self pity and thought and had left him some tofu, just how he liked it.

Maybe if he can’t be with you the least he could do is enjoy his birthday just like how you ‘made’ him do all these years.

Xiao cries tonight more than he wants to, and if Goldet heard his weeps, she doesn’t mention anything. 

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Infatuation P11

Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn

Warnings: Violent scene description, death.

Notes: Wow, this seems really out of nowhere to post. Anyway 🤪 I don’t want this sitting in my drafts anymore so I’m going to let you all know if I edit it before the next update. Just... take it.

I spent the better half of the day looking over my shoulder as I worked. Candace’s sudden reappearance isn’t going to be swept under the rug just like that... she’s a dead girl walking and I’ve never been a fan of the zombie genre.

By the time I was counting the money from the cash register, Love seemed to have grown a smile. Though, I could still see the sleep deprivation in her eyes.

“Will,” She leaned forward on the counter, perching her head up on her hand. “could we do something tonight?”

At that moment, I really wish I could’ve said yes. But... I couldn’t afford to get distracted.

“Maybe another night? I’m...” I thought quickly, placing coins down and counting.

“We need to talk.” She leans forward to catch my sight. About what exactly, I want to ask but before I can even get a word out, Forty walks in with his mouth open.

“Will, would you be a doll and help me with something.”

I don’t say anything, only thinking to myself: why here and now? Forty has some of the worst timing... and then I spot Candace. Right behind Forty, with a white smile I hated to see.

“Oh, Will. This is Amy.” Love gestures toward Candace and my stomach turns and probably does some flips while it’s at it. If I wasn’t so used to staring into the face of death, I would of probably thrown up by now.

But, there’s no way.

“She’s Y/N’s friend.” Forty finishes. I bite the inside of my cheek. No fucking way she’s here unprompted. I’ve been so incredibly meticulous about everything including my online presence.

I look to Love’s face and she seems to spot something.

“Are you okay? You look kind of pale.” What? She’s not going to ask if I’ve seen a ghost?

“Yeah— no, yeah. I’m alright.” I smile wide, wiping my brow as I do. “It’s just—“ I turn to ‘Amy’. “Is Y/N still in town?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.” She looks me in the eye. For a moment, I feel myself crack under the pressure.

Hold me back, I might just kill her now.

“What do you mean?” Love looks to her.

“I was supposed to pick her up the other day, but she hasn’t responded to my messages since.” Candace looks at me with those dead soulless eyes of hers.

So, she’s the mysterious driver. When did she start driving that type of car? Since she’s decided to pursue a career in stealthily ruining my life?

What the fuck am I going to do about her and what the hell am I going to do about you?

“Will,” Love suddenly says, bringing the conversation back and snapping me out of my thoughts. “didn’t you see Y/N?”

“Y— no. No, I know it was late by the time I got there, but I passed a bus on my way.” I remember the way your soft face felt in my hand. “Could she have taken public transport? Maybe a cab?”

“I highly doubt it.” Candace replies immediately. I’m sweating, but I’m trying not to lose my cool.

I finally finish sorting through the change, no doubt making some mistakes. But with that done and out of my way, I need an excuse to slip through the cracks.

“Listen, I’m sure she’s just disappearing again. You’ve told me she’s done it before, I don’t see why she wouldn’t do it again.”

Love shifts around, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “I’m calling Lucy.”

And there she goes. Love leaves the room after her statement, and I know she’s feeling worse. Why did you even bother coming back? You’ve literally disrupted everything in our lives... it’s going to be difficult to fix, Y/N. There’s no simple way around this, we just have to make it through alive.

~

Love remained in another room at Anavrin until it closed and the street lights turned on. She quietly spoke into her phone, observing the floor pathetically.

She spoke with Lucy openly, though she avoided the topic of your sudden disappearance.

The conversation eventually dies down, and she says her goodbyes.

“I need to show you something.”

Love sets down her phone and looks to Amy. She hadn’t noticed her enter the room.

“You surprised me. What is it?”

She continues once Love’s attention is on her. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but do you mind if we discuss it in the car?”

~

And just as expected, Forty’s one-off comment about needing help wasn’t easily forgotten by himself. I was dragged out of Anavrin rather quickly. Though, in a way, I appreciated the easy excuse to get away from such a venemous snake as Candace.

Forty never let up, no matter how obvious I made my lack of care, he remained just as motivated and just as annoying.

“Listen, this is probably my most prestigious and ambitious project to date.” Forty’s arm swings itself over my shoulder, bringing me in as he repeats the same garbage he always does. I’m glad to see that spirit remains.

“They’re wanting to make it into a movie, can you believe that?” Forty’s arm lifts itself, only to fall down on my shoulder like a pat on the back.

“I’d love it if you could... you know... help me out. A genius writer isn’t a genius without their ghost writers!”

That’s... not what that is, but I get his point.

When I looked at him, his eyes were wide and his bottom lip stuck out comically. He was pouting? No, it’s more of a puppy dog look. The lazy man’s pretty please.

I should have time for this, even if I’d rather stop by the nearest gas station and get you dinner.

“Earth to Will, I need you focused!”

~

Love wraps her arms around herself, feeling very out of place.

Amy continues to fumble with the lock, until she hears a click. She perks up and gives Love a nod.

The storage lockers were easy to access, surprisingly so. But none of this felt right.

“Wait.” Love says suddenly, halting all movement. “I don’t want to do this.”

“But you’re just a door away. Please, Love, you’ll want to see this side of him.” Amy pleas.

What side of him? The side that owns this locker she so happened to know about?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t care for it either.” Love says, though she looks unsure of herself as she fiddles with her bag. Perhaps a part of her would rather be unaware of something as vile as Any had dared describe in the car.

“Do you hear yourself? You sound ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Thats coming from someone with bold claims.” Love retorts. She catches herself for a moment, seeing a glimpse of someone she repressed long ago. She’s not that person anymore, she swore to herself she never would be.

Despite Love’s reluctance, Amy lifts the door up and pockets her bobby pin.

Hearing the doors roll up, you had expected Joe to step in. But he was nowhere in sight. Instead, you jumped at the image of Love and Amy, pinching yourself to truly believe they were really standing there.

You wanted to speak, to shout, to cry out... but your voice was far too gone. Your throat was hoarse and bone-dry.

“Oh my god.” Amy hurried, observing you inside the glass box. “You’re still alive— she’s still alive!”

Love remained silent, her jaw hung open in utter disbelief. Will... Will had told her you left.

He lied? Or Amy isn’t who she says she is.

But why would he? It... it must’ve been for a good reason, right? Will isn’t this kind of person, right? Maybe— maybe he got himself into something. Love clutched her keys between her fingers, her knuckles turning white as she focused her burning stare into the back of Amy’s head.

“Y/N. Can you hear me?” She says, hitting the glass.

You’re barely responsive, a mixture of dehydration and lack of nutrition hitting you all at once. The sheer excitement from seeing them took a lot out of you.

“We’ll get you out of there.” Amy states, turning her head to face Love.

Love jumps at her sudden movement, grip shaking as she stares into Amy’s eyes.

“Help me, would you?”

Love slashed her keys in Amy’s direction and she tumbles back. Without a second thought, Love does it again, this time catching her straight in the neck.

For a moment, Love realizes what she’s done. With the way you began to pound on the glass and the look of complete and utter fear Amy is giving her, it’s kind of hard not to. Love stares at her keys, stuck inside the side of Amy’s neck as a thick stream of blood flows downward. She grips her own neck, holding tightly as her mouth puckers like a fish out of water.

Amy doesn’t want her to pull them out—the keys- and Love notices that. But she does. She yanks the keys toward herself and watches Amy slap her hands down around her own throat.

She’s silent, surprisingly silent despite the gurgling.

Love watches Amy hit the ground and crawl toward her feet, all the while a pool of blood forms beneath herself.

When Love looks toward you, you’re curled up in the corner of your glass cage, arms covering your eyes as sobs shake you violently. She didn’t want you to witness this side of her, truly. But even more so, she had never wanted it to come out again.

However, Amy was a threat to the three of you. Love knew you were locked up somewhere, how could she not? She knew that Will— Joe- had done this in the past, but it could be different now— it could be better. A private detective isn’t just for show. But Amy didn’t have to get involved— didn’t have to go sniffing around and finding your location before she could.

When she notices you peek past your elbows, she feels her gut clench at the sight of the way you cower at the sight displayed by her feet. Watching someone bleed out is hardly a pretty sight and Love understands.

Knowing full well that she can’t turn back, Love wipes her keys and drops the rolled up door.

[idontblushsrry]

SFW Alphabet-Hiei

Word Count: 2125 

A/N: Warning in advance, i’m in a fluffy mood and I want there to be more yyh fanfics so i’ll be writing some for the next few days. I’ll try and sprinkle in some other content but for now, it is what it is. Also I changed some of the prompt options so there’s that. Also I’m going to be posting content for more obscure/dead/forgotten fandoms in general so if you have any ideas lmk!

A: Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Hiei isn’t super affectionate in the traditional sense. Like if you want a boyfriend who’ll hold your hand and kiss your cheek and what not, Hiei is not that person at all. His affection is moreso bickering, especially in public, he’ll act like you’re such a nuisance but like he’s still looking out for you. In private, he’s a bit more affectionate. He really does trust you with his life, he’s just a little emotionally repressed so he shows his affection by sleeping and truly relaxing around you. In his most vulnerable moments, he’ll lay his head in your lap and let you rub his hair while he falls asleep.

B: Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The closest thing we see to Hiei having a best friend is Kurama and maybe Yusuke. As a best friend Hiei is very blunt, he shows his care for you by being upfront, it can honestly come off as a little callous but if you know him well (which you should as his best friend) you know that he means well, he just wants to protect his pride while still showing he cares about you. Your friendship probably starts after one of you saves the other.

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Hiei likes cuddles but he absolutely refuses to ask for them. He doesn’t like to be too close at first and will initially only hold your hand when he knows for sure that you’re asleep. Eventually though, he gets more comfortable with you and your relationship and allows you to hold him even when you’re awake.

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Hiei and domestic don’t really go together in the same sentence. His version of domesticity is protecting each other and then coming home and being near each other. He doesn’t want to settle down in the traditional “human” sense but he does like the idea of having somewhere permanent to come back to with you. He isn’t the best at cooking but he will try his best to help clean, he often uses his speed to get them done faster, all the while teasing you at how slow you’re going. Like okay buddy, you’re doing what I want anyways so who’s really losing?

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If you and Hiei ever broke up, he’d be silently devastated. It took a lot out of him to open up to you and the fact that you were able to leave that (at least for him) is devastating. If Hiei ever does get with another person, it’ll be long after you’ve both broken up and moved on.

F: Fiance(e) (How would they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Hiei has sort of already made a commitment to you by the time you’ve even entered your relationship, regardless of how long you’ve known each other, he entered the relationship because of how deep his connection with you is. He wouldn’t want to/care to get married by “human” standards, in his mind you’re already married/mated. Plus he couldn’t legally marry you because of the fact that he doesn’t have any governmental documentation.

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Hiei isn’t emotionally gentle at all at least outwardly. He’s very grumpy to protect his pride and image but he’s secretly a big ol softie. He always keeps track of you with his Jagan and if you’re ever in danger, Hiei is never far. When it comes to your emotional needs, he tries his best, he usually just positions himself in the best spot to be there should you need anything from him.

H: Hugs( Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

Hiei during the course of his relationship with you tries to become more and more affectionate with you, becoming more and more open with giving and receiving it. He ofc isn’t into PDA at all but he will reciprocate your hugs if you give. At the beginning of your relationship he just stands there awkwardly but later on in your relationship he’ll wrap his arms around you and awkwardly start to pat your back. His hugs are pretty awkward but the fact that he even lets you hold him means more than his awkwardness with affection.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word)

Hiei thinks that the fact he “puts up with you” is evidence enough and that he shouldn’t have to say it. He maintains that until one day you just break and tell him you love him and would like to hear him say it back, he just blushes and turns mumbling out a rushed, ‘I love you too.’

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous)

He gets jealous and also not jealous if that makes sense. Like he knows that no other could ever measure up to him and as such isn’t threatened by anyone even if they are flirting with you. But other times he sees you smiling with some stranger or laughing at a joke your co worker said and he wonders if maybe you’d be happier with someone better than him. 

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Hiei’s kisses are rough and warm and passionate. He gives you kisses usually to just straight up fluster you, he loves the dreamy expression you get and the little wobble in your knees when he kisses with you and it fills him with a sense of pride to elicit such a reaction from you. 

L: Little ones (How are they around children)

Oh goodness. Please do not let Hiei loose around children unsupervised. He will just stare at them and watch as they get into whatever mischief they want and just still be staring at them. He’ll only intervene if they bother him or are in life-threatening danger.

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

In the rare mornings that Hiei hasn’t completely disappeared after waking up earlier than you, he likes to just look at you. It’s a little odd but he likes to just bask in your presence, he enjoys being with you and it’s the second softest you’ll see him throughout the day.

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights with Hiei are incredibly tender, you spend the night in each others arms and you’ll want for naught in terms of warmth. As a fire demon, Hiei tends to give off a lot more heat than most so if you get cold at night he’ll just move closer to you and let you put your cold hands and feet on him.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Hiei is a incredibly private and mysterious person. He reveals things about himself very slowly, most things are unsaid, revealed through his actions and reactions. 

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Hiei is somewhat brash, impulsive, and grumpy which can lead to fights between the two of you. Given the fact that he is not at all patient, fights can get heated rather quickly. However, Hiei is also able to tell when he’s getting too worked up so he often ends up leaving mid-fight to walk away and cool down .

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you?  Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers the smallest things about you like the way you prefer to part your hair but fails at remembering things like your anniversary. Although, he is a telepath so in that aspect, he’s lucky. No, he doesn’t read your mind, he respects your privacy too much to do that, Botan on the other hand...

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moments in your relationship both occurred during the Dark Tournament:

1) Was when he passed out from using his Dark Dragon technique and woke up to see you asleep at his bedside. The fact that you were there for him and stood by his side at his most vulnerable it... it meant a lot.

2) Was when you all exited the stadium and in all your excitement you kissed him yelling “You guys did it!”, he was very much embarrassed afterwards but even now just thinking about how happy you were brings a smile to his face.

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

Hiei loves to play the role of a silent protector, please let him lol. Even if you can see or sense him, pretend you can’t for his sake, it makes him feel cool. As for how he likes to be protected, he fully expects you to be reliant on him for protection if you’re a non-fighter, and he’s ok w that but if you like protect him from someone who’s trying to attack from behind, he might just admit he’s in L-word with you.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Hiei admittedly doesn’t put effort into dates or anniversaries. It’s one of the biggest challenges in your relationship, how he’d rather keep his pride than make an effort to be with you. You end up planning most dates as Hiei is perfectly content for you both to just stare off into space in the middle of the countryside. He will go along with whatever plans you have though, and he’ll steal you anything you want. In fact, the only thing Hiei’s actually bought you was a sword, you assume it was very expensive based on the sheer quality and amount of detail but he never says where he got it from.

U: Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs?)

A bad habit that Hiei has are his aforementioned pride. The man is stubborn and will maintain said stubbornness until proved wrong beyond deniability, at which point he’ll avert his eyes and apologize. Another bad habit he has is that he won’t tell you if he’s struggling until he’s in so much shit that not telling you would be a matter of life or death. Like he’ll be dictating his will to you randomly one day while you’re just mindin your business, it’s terrible. His pride and secretive nature tend to be the cause of your most serious disagreements.

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not concerned with his looks beyond the bare minimum. Hiei never really tries with his look whether it’s his clothes or general attitude/way he presents himself. He does keep clean of course, but in terms of fashion... he’ll wear whatever he’s got until it’s nothing more than rags.

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Hiei never feels incomplete without you, he’s much too independent and self-reliant to ever feel incomplete because of one person even if that is you. However, he does feel different, considering the fact that you are 90% of his impulse control and kindness, he does find himself getting irritated and acting much more brashly whenever you aren’t around.

X: (E)xes (Any previous relationship experience. How does that factor into your current relationship?)

You are quite literally the only relationship he’s ever been in, coincidentally you are also one of four people he can consistently tolerate.

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner)

Hiei gets a bad taste in his mouth at people who lack honor and integrity. He thinks that above all, whether you live or die, you should do so with honor. As such, he dislikes traitors or sycophants or the like, he doesn’t care if you’re an ass, as long as you’re honest about it.

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Hiei in general doesn’t sleep regularly and when he does it isn’t really good, restful sleep. Maybe very once in a while, he’ll get a decent night’s rest with you but overall, the man sleeps when his body forces him to.Also like to think that he can sleep with his eyes open, or at least with his Jagan open if he isn’t completely depleted of energy.

[desertno3]

Violet – Chapter Two (3/7)

When Sean finally meets his daughter, you wonder why you ever left him in the first place.

Sean Wallace x fem!reader Chapter Two: 1787 words

Prologue // Chapter One

A/N: Welp, sorry I said this would be up soon and then immediately went and took like two weeks to finalise it. Anyway, here’s the Sean and Violet interaction we’ve all been waiting for! Let me know what you think!

Taglist: @ysmmsy​ @prettyinpayne​ @the-a-word-2214​ Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series!

“Can you help me colour this in, mum?”

You have to repress a tired sigh at your daughter’s request.

“Sorry, Vi, I can’t right now,” You tell her, scrolling through real estate listings on your phone. You’d been looking ever since the incident because there was no way in hell you were going to go back to your old place after what happened. “Maybe later, yeah?”

You hear her huff and when you look up, she’s already walking out of the room, crayons and colouring book in hand - no doubt on the hunt for someone else to ask.

You shouldn’t have been surprised at the way Violet had made herself right at home in the Wallace household, quickly warming up to everyone even though she’d just met them. It was just the kind of child she was. If she could, she would go right up to total strangers and talk to them but you’d made sure to nip that habit in the bud early, sitting her down and telling her why it was dangerous to do so. She was the most gregarious and self-assured little girl you’d ever known - and you were sure her Wallace genes played a strong part in making that happen.

~

Sean groans in frustration, leaning against the kitchen counter as he does so. Elliot had just called to say that the latest lead Sean had him following went nowhere and now Sean was wracking his brain to figure out who else could have been behind the intrusion of your home.

The intruder in question had been of no help, naturally. Sean had done what he could to pry information out of him but the man said nothing - and Sean wasn’t sure if it was out of loyalty or because he’d lost so much blood he couldn’t think straight. In the end, Sean didn’t even have to finish him off because the gunshot you’d inflicted did the job well enough. He decided he wouldn’t tell you that, though. You were shaken enough as it was.

“Are you okay?”

Sean’s jolted out of his thoughts by the little voice and when he looks up, Violet’s hoisting herself up onto one of the stools on the other side of the counter. She then looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer to her question.

“I am,” Sean replies, still watching her curiously.

Besides the brief introduction where you’d told Violet he was your friend, he hadn’t yet properly interacted with her. For one, he had been too preoccupied with trying to track certain people down but the other reason was that he didn’t know how you would react to it if he did. You’d clearly been avoiding bringing up the topic of Violet’s parentage and he’d let you avoid it - for now. 

“Will you colour in with me?” She asks, taking him out of his reverie yet again. “My mum’s busy.”

Sean blinks at her, processing the request. He wonders if he should say no - after all, he has so much to do - but she looks so hopeful that he doesn’t want to. When he eventually caves and says yes, he’s taken aback by the fondness he feels at the way she beams and hops off the stool, coming over to him to take his hand and lead him to the living room where she’d already had her colouring book all set up.

~

You’re more than surprised when you come downstairs half an hour later and see the two of them sitting at the coffee table, colouring in together.

“What colour do you think should go here?” Sean asks her, pointing to a blank spot on the page.

“Green! No, wait!” Violet’s expression scrunches up as she surveys all the colours in front of them. “Yeah, green.”

You watch as Sean chuckles, complying with her wishes as he reaches for the green crayon. He starts colouring in the area while Violet happily observes, the section she was working on long forgotten as she peers intently at the way Sean was doing it.

You feel a slight pang in your heart as you watch them, knowing you had kept them from having moments like this. It’s a fleeting feeling, however, because Violet looks up and spots you.

“Mummy!”

“Hi, love,” You greet her, walking over to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I see you’ve wrangled Sean into colouring with you.”

“We’re colouring in this page right now,” Violet says excitedly, showing it to you. “But we also did the one with the horses. You know, the one me and you didn’t get to finish?”

She flips through the book and shows you the page in question.

“That’s great, darling,” You tell her, fondly smoothing her hair down. “Now, why don’t you go outside and play for a bit, hm? Let Sean get back to his work.”

She nods, taking the crayon from him and putting them all back in the box.

“Thanks for colouring with me, Sean,” She smiles before turning and scampering off excitedly to the backyard.

“Don’t forget your hat!” You call out to her but she’d already disappeared around the corner, leaving a silence to settle between you and Sean in the living room.

“She’s a chatty one,” He comments, breaking the silence as he gets up off the floor. “Would fit right in with my dad’s side of the family.”

You just hum in acknowledgement, avoiding his knowing gaze. You’d always thought the same thing but you didn’t want to tell him that, not yet wanting to confirm or deny anything to do with Violet being a Wallace even though there really was no point in doing so - you knew Sean knew, even if you hadn’t yet spoken about it.

“Y/n,” He says, waiting until you actually looked at him. “Did you know you were pregnant when you broke up with me?”

There it was.

You’d spent the last few days waiting for him to bring it up - surprised he even let it stay unaddressed for this long - and yet you find yourself still completely unprepared to have this conversation.

You shake your head. “I only found out about a month after.”

Not that it matters. What matters was that you could have told him at any point during your pregnancy or at any point after Violet was born, but you never did. You scan Sean’s face desperately, hating that you can’t read him as well as you used to be able to. 

“I’m sorry, Sean,” You say and you think you’ve never meant an apology more in your life. “I thought it would be safer to keep her away. Even after I found out I… I didn’t think coming back to you pregnant was a good idea.”

“Still, I deserved to know about her, y/n. She deserves to know about me.”

You drop your gaze, ashamed. “I know. God, I know, okay? But I was scared.”

You know that doesn’t excuse anything but you had to be honest. He had to at least know why you did what you did at the time.

“Scared of what? Me?”

“Of the people you were working with!” You clarify. “I was scared that if they knew about her they might-”

“They would never even get close,” He cuts you off, his tone developing a menacing edge to it at the mere thought of anyone laying a hand on Violet. “I wouldn’t have fucking let them.”

There's a heavy silence in the air and you watch him sigh in frustration, trying to work through his temper. Your own heart hammers against your chest at finally being forced to face the consequences of your decisions.

“I would’ve kept you both safe,” He eventually says, his voice slightly calmer. “If you had just let me, I would’ve done it.”

“I know,” You admit quietly, remorsefully. “I know you would have. But at the time... Sean, your way of keeping us safe wasn’t my way of keeping us safe. You know that."

He purses his lips, remembering all the times in the past you two would argue because he would always get himself into more violent situations than you thought was necessary. The way you saw it, he was unnecessarily digging his own grave with every altercation he found himself in whereas he’d grown up being taught that violence was a necessary measure to keep certain people at bay, to remind them who was in charge, and to prevent them from threatening the people he cared about - namely you, at the time.

“I could never get my head around why you would go through all that trouble, Sean. But I get it now.”

His eyes bore into yours, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes in what you just said.

“What changed?”

You open your mouth to reply when you jump at the sound of banging at the window. Both of you look to see Violet on the other side of it holding up a football, clearly wanting you to play outside with her. You give her a nod, holding up a finger to let her know you’ll be out in a minute.

“I had her,” You answer as you both watch Violet grin and run down to the other side of the backyard. “I’d literally do anything to keep her safe, anything just to make sure she’s okay.”

Sean looks out the window for a long time, to the point where you think he’s still stewing in his anger, but then he lets out a little amused-sounding huff.

“What?” You ask, slightly confused.

“Now you know why I used to get into all those fights for you.”

Your expression softens at that but he doesn't see it. He's deliberately not looking at you, immediately feeling like he’s made himself a bit too vulnerable after saying that. He glances at Violet, kicking the ball around all on her lonesome, and it reminds him of the reason you’d returned to his life in the first place. 

“I have to make some calls,” He says, shifting back into business mode. “I have to find another lead.”

“I really am sorry, Sean,” You tell him, ignoring his change of topic. You needed to make sure he knew that.

He looks at you and sighs. “I know. And I get why you did it. As much as I fucking hate it, y/n… I do understand.”

It’s more than you could have ever asked from him. You nod and one last look of acknowledgement passes between you two before he disappears to his office and you head out to be with Violet, feeling lighter than you have felt in a while now that everything was finally out in the open.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

A Ghost is a Wish // G.W.

Summary: Three years after the events of Potions and Constellations, George Weasley cannot help but wonder of the ghosts that haunt the many rooms of the enchanted castle he now calls home.

A/N: Part two to Potions and Constellations! I have decided to make a mini series out of it, focusing on Professor!George and his many adventures at Hogwarts. Title is a quote from The Haunting of Hill House (I love that show so much). I don't think you necessarily need to read the first part to understand this, but some parts could be confusing.

Warnings: time skip, ghosts, spectres, hauntings, swearing, grief, established relationship, fluff, cute, fred is dead.

Word count: 3.8k

At this point in his life, George Weasley has been teaching three years. It wasn’t meant to be a permanent post, but rather a position filled until someone more qualified was found for the job. That was what McGonagall had led him to believe so many seconds, minutes, hours ago.

Yet, three years later, George was still to be found lecturing day in and day out to scores of young witches and wizards about the benefits and downfalls of potions and their ingredients. He didn’t say it often, but he had found his home within the walls of the dungeon that served as his classroom. He felt nothing but comfort as he meandered through the stone corridors of the school, greeting students by name, always getting a happy response in return.

Three years later, and he finds himself wholly in love with you and ready to dedicate his whole life to the profession of teaching in order to remain close to you. He misses his brother; the grief of losing someone so close to you isn’t something that simply fades over night, but having you close by, willing to share that burden makes it all the easier.

The grief of Fred still weighs him down; it still crawls up his throat and threatens to suffocate him, but he finds ways of managing whether it is planning a new lesson or distracting you from your own school work. However, it cannot be ignored for long and though the burden has been halved, George still finds himself missing and wondering about Fred.

----------

George paces the front of his classroom, his hands moving in circles as he explains the task to his class. A rather light potion for Sixth Years to be brewing but given that it’s Friday afternoon and Potions is the last lesson of the day for these students, George decides to go easy on them.

“I want you to revisit a potion from Second Year. Collect the ingredients for and brew a Wiggenweld Potion. You have the rest of the afternoon to do so and you can chat amongst yourselves. I’ll be making rounds so if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Auden Vincent raises his hand, waving it so fast there is genuine worry he might hit another student. Deciding not to repress his smile, George acknowledges the Sixth Year.

“Sir,” Auden begins, “Did you enjoy your time at Hogwarts?”

“What does that have to do with a Wiggenweld Potion, Auden?”

Auden shrugs, a large smile on his face that shows he knows exactly what he is doing. “I can’t help but be curious, you haven’t been here as long as the other teachers.”

“Three years, Auden. I’ve been teaching you Potions for three years.”

“Still,” The young teenager argues, “I think we would like to get to know you more.”

George sighs and glances at the clock. Knowing Auden and his tendency to disrupt lessons, George chooses to give in to the teenager. “I enjoyed my time at Hogwarts very much. Now, please, get on with your potion.”

From the frown that spreads across Auden’s face, it is clear that George has not given enough information. Already, the fight begins to light in Auden’s eyes, more and more questions rising to the brink, ready to be dropped into conversation and derail George’s lesson.  

“Auden,” George sighs, “Before you ask any more questions, understand that I attended Hogwarts through the Second Wizarding War. Whilst I enjoyed my time at the school, I also fought in the war.”

Any argument Auden was going to pose falls flat; the fight leaves his eyes in a second. The teenager nods wordlessly before turning his attention back to the set work. George feels awful; he would love to do nothing more than to tell his students about his time at Hogwarts, but all of his memories contain Fred, and even though it’s been years, and even though his grief doesn’t haunt him as often as it used to, he just isn’t ready to verbalise such happy memories.

Rolling up his sleeves, George starts to wander around the classroom he has made his own. A whole wall is dedicated to lines and lines of ingredients; each one sealed in jars and carefully labelled. Think back to his own lessons in this very classroom, George can see how the room has lightened with his presence. The darkness that encompassed Snape completely absent as George expertly weaves through tables and past students.

He smiles encouragingly at every student; letting them know where they’re going and where they need some improvement. George believes that it is important to revisit past potions, to keep minds sharp and fingers nimble before moving onto something more difficult.

It’s as George is leant over the cauldron of Alexandra Shea that the door to the classroom opens. “I’ll be one moment,” George calls out before pointing Alexandra in the right direction.

“Take all the time you need, Professor Weasley.”

George smiles before he can help himself. Your relationship had never been a secret; the whole school knowing the two of you were in love long before either of you realise, but George still tried to keep some level of professionalism around students.

Tried being the operative word.

You stand by the doorway, one of George’s jumpers hanging from your torso, the sleeves are so long that they swallow your hands. A tired smile is on your face, your hair barely brushed into some semblance of a ponytail. Professionalism be damned when you look like that.

You’re perfect, he thinks as he brushes himself down before walking over to you.

“Love,” George greets as he sends the class back to their potions, “What are you doing up? You’re teaching tonight.”

You shrug, a soft smile spreading across your face, “I missed you. I wanted to see you.”

George smiles, feeling the familiar flush spread up his neck and to his cheeks. Years on, and you still make him feel like a teenage boy experiencing his first tryst with love. “Consider me flattered, Professor,” George flirts.

“You should be,” You counter, the soft smile still on your face, “Will I see you tonight?”

Friday evenings had been reserved for you two. Your schedule as the Astronomy Professor meant that you worked markedly different hours from George, but regardless of the piles of work and awkward hours, Friday evenings were set aside for you both.

Reaching out for your hand, George tangles your fingers together before squeezing. His gaze doesn’t leave yours as he replies, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I have to know the story behind Corona Borealis.”

You shake your head in exasperated fondness, “You’ve heard that one before.”

“I’ve heard them all before,” George reminds you; knowing your curriculum just as well as his own, “But every time feels like the first time when you tell me the story.”

You roll your eyes, “A flirt, Weasley. That’s what you are.”

“Only for you,” He mouths, not letting his students overhear every word of your conversation. George brings your hand to his lips, dropping a kiss to the back of it before dropping it, “Go back to bed, love. I’ll come see you before dinner.”

The smile on your face grows as you stand on your tiptoes, pressing a long kiss to his cheek – an innocent act that only holds headier promises for the future. “I’ll be waiting, Weasley.”

A flush spreads across George’s face as he watches you go, closing the door behind you. He waits a moment, calming down before turning back to the class. His students try to look as if they haven’t heard the whole exchange, intensely focused on the potions brewing in front of them.

“Not a word, Auden,” George warns, pointing at the student before throwing himself back into the melee.

-----------

Over his time as a Professor, George had come to known the ghosts of Hogwarts. As a student, he hadn’t bothered getting to know them – believing that pranks and jokes were of a higher importance that hearing the histories relayed by Professor Binns. However, now older and wiser, George made sure to spend time with the spectres that floated down corridors and through walls. He spoke to them, hearing their stories, understanding their histories.

George doesn’t admit it to anyone why he seeks out to know the stories of the ghosts of Hogwarts. He doesn’t tell a soul that he’s trying to find the answer to the one question that has plagued his mind since he took up the job offer from McGonagall all those years ago.

Nearly Headless Nick had greeted him with the same amount of gusto as he had when George was a First Year worried about spending his first night away from home and his mum. Nick often checked in with the Gryffindor he had watched grow up; often floated to the dungeon to see how George was doing, frequently staying longer to talk about anything and everything that occupied either of their minds.

The Bloody Baron was harder to talk to. A staunch Slytherin, the ghost was dedicated to his house, but warmed up to George somewhat when George explained how he worked and spent most of his time in the dungeon teaching Slytherins.

Peeves the Poltergeist has only ever respected a handful of people. Begrudgingly, he would admit that he admired the Marauders – confessing it now as they had all passed on and his words could not be used against him. Nonetheless, Peeves would tell any soul who would listen for than one minute that he respected the Weasley twins and their dedication to all things mischief. For George, it was easier to talk to Peeves. They could compare prank ideas and products for the shop, and slowly but surely, George grew to understand Peeves backstory.

Late at night, however, George couldn’t help but wonder whether there was one more ghost in the castle he had yet to meet.

The curiosity niggled at the back of his mind; the very idea of it settled deep within his bones, stirring him to life in the middle of the night when the ghosts were at their busiest. Countless times, George had woken from a daze to find himself with his hand on the handle to his door, ready to turn and find out for himself.

On one hand, George desperately wants to know whether there is a chance.

On the other hand, George knows that he barely coped in the months after the war. He knows that if he doesn’t get the answer he so desires, it could the setback he has been dreading.

----------

The corridors of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry have always had an uncomfortable atmosphere to them. When filled with the rushed footsteps of students, the pathways have a lighter air to them, but after the students are safely tucked up in their beds, the darker parts of the castle come out to play.

George’s grip on your hand remains tight as you both wander through the corridors of the school, keeping an eye out for straying students. Scores of portraits decorate the stone walls of the castle; each one a prominent figure throughout the history of witchcraft and wizardry. Each one is asleep; their snores punctuating the silence between you and George.

Checking the old watch on his left wrist, George sighs with relief, “Midnight. We can get back to bed now.”

You smile, happy for your extra-curricular task to be done, “Thank Merlin. Let’s head back.”

Something feels different about the corridors as the both of you make your way back to your shared rooms. There’s a charge to the air around you, something electric that only has your steps quickening the closer you get to your rooms.

It’s the odd flashes of silver you spy out of the corner of your eye that have your steps beginning to falter. There was a ghost nearby, but it could not be Peeves – you hear him before you see him unless he has something especially sinister planned. It’s not Nick, the Baron or the Friar – they’re all at Ravenclaw Tower, trying to persuade the Grey Lady to socialise more.

It has to be someone new.

But as you catch eyes with George, you realise that it has been years since a new ghost has made Hogwarts its home. The Battle of Hogwarts had created ghosts and spectres galore, but in the aftermath, they had all found their peace and moved on.

“Georgie?” A voice calls and George promptly freezes, his hand falling from your grip as he trips up on thin air.

“George?” You murmur, puzzled at his sudden stop.

He can feel the colour drain from his face; feel the unwelcome churning of his gut as memory after memory washes over him. That voice… he hasn’t heard that voice in years.

“George… it’s me,” The voice calls out once more; it sounding stronger now, surer of itself.

Steeling his nerves and his heart, George turns in the direction of the spectral call.

He meets a face identical to his, but not. He meets a face that has not aged, has not hurt, has not cried in years. He meets a face entirely youthful and at peace.

George meets the face of his twin brother, Fred.

“Fred?” George whispers, voice breaking from sheer disbelief. In that one word alone, you can hear the years of grief and upset. You can feel the tears that will surely fall later tonight; you can see the pain written across George’s face.

Fred smiles: it’s as watery as you can get for a spectral vision, but it’s there. “It’s me, Georgie,” He reassures, “I promise.”

“It’s been so long,” George states needlessly. “So long,” He repeats as if counting the days of absences for his brother, noting each second, minute and hour that he has been without his twin.

“Who’s looking after the shop?” Fred asks, changing subject, dragging his brother away from the dark path he once wandered alone.

“Ron,” George answers, “He has some help from Harry on the weekends when it gets busier, but Ron is managing a lot. I think Bill is wanting to help out more too.”

“That’s good,” Fred nods. “You seem to fit in well, Professor Weasley,” Fred comments, gesturing to the robes now adorning his brother’s frame.

George laughs, his hand reaching for yours once more as you remain silent through the whole exchange, “Who would have thought it?”

“Not me,” Fred snorts, laughing at George’s bark of protest. All too quickly, Fred’s eyes are drawn to you, standing by George’s side, hand clasped in his ever so tightly. Your heartbeat quickens at seeing the stark youth on Fred’s face.

“It’s been too long, (Y/N),” Fred greets.

“How are you, Fred?”

“Better now that I know he isn’t alone.”

“You were watching?” George asks, tone aghast.

Fred gives his twin a look that coveys not only his brother’s stupidity but also the overwhelming brotherly love Fred has for his twin. “Of course I was. That’s how I knew I could come to you now. You aren’t alone, you’re managing.”

“I haven’t been alone for three years,” George points out as if would make an ounce of difference to Fred’s reasoning for showing up tonight.

Fred rolls his eyes. “I know that, but you weren’t ready. I could have appeared months ago but chose not to. I wanted you to be okay after I go again.”

George’s hand tighten around yours; his knuckles whitening as Fred’s words sink in. “You’re not a regular ghost of the castle are you? Not like Nick or Peeves?”

Fred shakes his head. “I have to go back,” He says, gesturing behind him as if the place in which he now belongs is right there within reach, “But I wanted to see you, so I got my wish.”

“I got mine too,” George says so quietly you wonder whether you’ve misheard him.

“You look old,” Fred laughs, defusing the tension that threatens to boil over any moment.

George snorts, speaking without thinking, “That’s what life will do to you.”

George immediately freezes as the words leave his mouth. He meets Fred’s gaze, a thousand apologues ready and willing to fall from his lips as rain would fall from the sky. Sorrow is written in every premature line, and in every blink of his eyes, but George doesn’t get to speak the words

“I know,” Fred replies. The both of them more than aware that those two words cover more than the apology left unsaid just now by George. They cover years of repenting on George’s behalf; for not being there, for not saying goodbye, for not protecting his brother.

“Will you do me a favour?” Fred asks, drawing his brother back from the depths of his mind and his grief.

“Anything.”

“Tell Mum, I’m okay? I know she worries, and I know she misses me. I just… I need her to know that I’m okay and I’m looked after.”

“I’ll floo home this weekend and tell her,” George promises; conviction and determination weighing down his voice.

“I have to go,” Fred comments, sadness in his tone as he glances back behind him, as if hearing a call only audible to his ears alone.

“I miss you,” George whispers as Fred fades away.

His twin brother pauses, lifting a hand to him, “I’m always with you, George.”

Those are his final words before he fades away back to the afterlife; the place in which he watches over every member of his family, keeping an eye on them like a determined guardian angel.

-----------

The walk to your shared room is completed in a daze. You had known Fred from your time as a student; unable to get away from the stories of his pranks, but as your relationship with George progressed, you felt as if you knew him better.

Fred’s visit was unexpected, and as your hand only wraps around George’s tighter, you can only wonder what was running through his mind.

He doesn’t speak as you push open the heavy wooden door to your rooms; doesn’t speak as you lead him to the bed. “Love,” You say gently, “We need to get ready for bed.”

George does so woodenly; still in a daze with what he’s just experienced in the corridor. You watch him with worried eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek as he pulls back the covers and slides into bed.

Tomorrow, you promise yourself. Tomorrow you would broach the subject; you would let him have tonight to work through the flurry of emotions no doubt rushing through his veins this very moment.

As your eyes grow heavy, you fist your hand into George’s thin t-shirt, reminding him that you’re here.

----------

George doesn’t sleep. He feels your breathing slow; watching the exact moment your eyes start to flutters as dreams begin. Gently he shifts in bed, sliding out from the covers and leaving you behind as he tries to work through the events of the evening.

He wanders out to the small living area; big enough to fit a couch and a table that is used more for marking than it is for eating. George slumps down onto the couch; running a hand down his face and waiting for the inevitable tears to start flowing down his face.

At the same time, he feels such sorrow and such relief. For years now, George has carried the weight of his guilt surrounding Fred’s death on his shoulders. On his more dramatic days, George would compare it to the weight Atlas feels when holding the Earth. George has carried this burden for so long, and in a ten minute conversation with the ghost of his dead twin, he has been absolved of it.

He doesn’t know the extent of what he is supposed to feel.

George stares into the permanently lit fire; questioning all he can about the events of the evening. The guilt and grief he carries for his brother is what kept him from replying to McGonagall all those years ago; it was what had him rejecting the idea altogether. Instead, after a conversation with Ron, he said yes, and so far, George had yet to regret such a decision.

After all, if he had said no, he would not have met you, and would not have fallen in love so desperately.

George thinks of you; thinks of how you stood by his side, hand holding his tightly as George spoke to his brother. You had to have questions. George had told you everything; he couldn’t keep a secret from you. This was discovered early in your relationship when George had blabbed about the presents he had got you for Christmas – way too excited to know your reaction rather than wait.

He continues to stare at the fire; mind running through memories of Fred, wondering whether McGonagall would give him next week off to go home and be there for Molly when George inevitably passes on Fred’s message.

How does he do it? How does he begin to live his life now that Fred has forgiven him?

He has carried this burden for so long; passing it you when you asked to help. For years, after his death, Fred was a massive part of his life. George has lost count of the times over the years that he has heard something hilarious and turned to share it with Fred only to find he no longer stands at his side. How George rushed home the weekend he asked you to be his partner; desperate not only to tell his mum he thinks he’s found the love of his life, but to tell Fred as well to find his mother waiting with happy tears in her eyes and no sign of Fred whatsoever.

“George,” You rasp from the bedroom door, voice heavy from disturbed sleep, “Come back to bed.”

George nods, not speaking as he climbs back into bed. Positions change immediately. Usually, it would be you who would cuddle up the redhead, wanting to wrap yourself around him and fall asleep with his scent enveloping you. Instead, it is George’s turn to hide his face in your clothed shoulder as your arm wraps around him comfortingly. His whole body shudders as a fresh wave of grief overtakes him, but you’re there for every battering and every sob.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, running a hand through his hair.

George shakes his head, calming himself down long enough to whisper, “Not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry,” You repeat, “It wasn’t as if you were expecting that tonight.”

“I wasn’t,” George admits, tears starting to slow, “I didn’t think I would see him ever again.”

“Are you glad that you have?”

George nods; his nose brushing your collarbone, “I am. I miss him just as much as I did in the beginning, but I know I’m going to come out of the other side now.”

“You do?”

“I do. I have you.”

******

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[shingia]

hey first i just wanted to say that i really love ur writing and ur page i’ve been reading it a lot and i just really like ur writing style! i was wondering if you could do hc’s for the boys comforting a s/o with depression? i’ve been really struggling lately :/ and if possible could you maybe do kenma, hinata and suga? or any one of them or the others! they don’t have to be long if u don’t want, thank u so much♥️♥️

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

ok uh storytime real quick : i just spent about twenty minutes crying in my bathroom and i was about to keep doing that in my bed because what else would i do?:) and just as i was getting to the part where i start aggressively hating all my work here : THIS MESSAGE ? yeah no i started ugly crying 🤧 (happy tears dw)

i rly hope these hcs will bring you as much comfort as you brought me, because whew i am 🎶🎸emotional tonite🎸🎶. anyways i’ll stop talking now : thanks again, i love you and here’s a forehead kiss for you <33

warnings : mention of depression

⇀ 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚 

• kenma wants to be for you who kuroo has been for him, and he’s probably the most attentive of the three because of the similarities with his social anxiety

• for example, he has developed a sixth sense that lets him know when a wave of sadness isn’t far ; and if you’re in public then he’ll have absolutely no problem with ditching everyone to take you away, focusing on you and only you

• honestly he doesn’t even need to talk to make you feel better, his presence alone is already really comforting

• kenma also refuses to sleep before you, because he doesn’t want you to be alone with your thoughts while he’s sound asleep and, therefore, useless

• kenma’s cuddles are usually passive but comfort cuddles ? much more active. back strokes, tight hugs, or just talking about your feelings, telling you about his day…

• oh and also : ♪ shouuulder kisses ♪

• when cuddling, his cats are never far, usually nestling against you to take a nap - they’re almost as soothing as him

• he probably has two or three comfort video games and he’ll offer you to play with him if he senses you need to clear your mind

• this might sound weird but kenma ‘respects’ your tears? like, he’s not the kind of guy that will immediately try to wipe them away, he knows the benefits of a good cry - and he’d prefer to let your body express itself rather than try to repress it

• i feel like he’d buy you little plants to put in your room, that way you have something to care for and it might be a motivation to get out of bed in the morning (bonus point if one of them is named kenma)

⇀ 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚

• hinata is terrified at the thought that he might not know how to properly comfort you, but trust me : he’s really good at it

• just listening to him talk makes it seem like absolutely nothing in this world is impossible. he’s like the embodiment of hope

• i think we can all agree on the fact that his bed is probably really plain and, let’s just say it, boring ; except for the fluffy blanket he bought for you (poor natsu probably thought it was for her)

• and you’re always comfortably swathed in this blanket every time you watch a movie together ; he loves to hold you like a burrito (probably buys himself another one because he really wants to burrito with you is that a verb?)

• he heard that making you list five things you like about yourself could help, and if you don’t know what to say then he’ll gladly do it for you until you start to come up with things of your own

• but hinata doesn’t stop at five things. he’ll list dozens and dozens because complimenting is second nature for him

• so yeah overall expect many many words of encouragement. you’re one of his greatest prides and he wants you to know it

• as cheerful and energetic hinata can be, he also knows when to get serious and just sit down and listen to you opening up about how you feel

• and if you start crying, he’ll have you scrunch your knees up to your chest, hold your whole body at once and rock you in his arms slowly. he likes to think of himself as some kind of human shield

⇀ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚

• he tries to get you out in the fresh every two days or so, even if it’s only for a few minutes spent sitting in front of your place or his, he’s just glad that he could get some fresh air into your lungs

• he makes you promise to call him or at least text if you need to talk at anytime of day or night

• and if you ever do call him in the middle of the night, he will sound perfectly awake and fresh as a daisy. you’re not and will never be a bother for him

• also, he always ALWAYS calls you after practice, especially if school work makes it impossible for him to physically check on you

• suga tries to create little events you can look forward too. nothing elaborate, maybe just text you that he’ll cook you your favorite meal for dinner, and then show up holding three grocery bags full of your fav snacks and drinks

• he celebrates every single one of your accomplishments : you studied for a test even if you didn’t feel like it ? he’s proud of you ; you tidied up your bedroom ? he’s also proud of you

• overall suga really wants you to feel safe with him, he wants you to know that you’ll never ever be judged. and that’s why he probably opens up about his own struggles too, to let you know that it’s ok to be vulnerable

• on days where you really don’t feel like going out of bed, he’s ready to spend hours repeating you the most reassuring and comforting words until you’re ready to move to the kitchen and drink some water/eat something or just stretch your legs for a bit

• and if he manages to get a few smiles or even chuckles out of you, then he’ll be the happiest man

@catwithangerissues

[cunningambitousdetermined]

Broken Pieces (young!James Potter x Reader)

hi! so this is for @pad-foots 500k celebration writing challenge, congratulations @pad-foots! *cheering noises* the reader being slytherin is important to the storyline otherwise it would have been non house specific. and um yeah it’s james potter x reader and hella angsty. with the prompt 10/12 “who the hell hurt you?” ahh i barely got this out on time! omg that was so terrifying to write! i hope everyone likes it!

warning: abusive family, bullying, self dislike?, swearing, SADNESS, 

The Noble House of Monroe will not be shamed. The Noble House of Monroe will not be shamed. 

Y/N traced the scars on the back of her palm methodically in a soothing motion before sighing and getting up from her spot at the base of the wall in the courtyard. It was almost dark and she would for being out late if she didn’t get back soon. She hurried down the stair toward the dungeons, glancing back and forth as she went. If she was caught and points were deducted it would only give her cousins another reason to torment her. A while back, maybe about a year or so before, her mother had convinced her cousins to get me in trouble in Ancient Runes, the professor was a friend of mother’s, so that I could write lines for a week. The Noble House of Monroe will not be shamed. It had taken weeks for the cuts of the words in her hands to heal and months to scar.  She hated that she wasn’t good enough. It was long known within her family that her father was a ‘blood traitor’. They said it made her just as worthless. They said she was weak for loving her father, though he didn’t want her. They said she was dirty for helping muggleborn and half-blood's alike. She had sullied her place in the family. She was no better then her father, a worthless blood traitor. When she first came to Hogwarts, she felt free. Free of the ideas and rules that had bound her for so long. She had spent her first months at Hogwarts helping up the boys and girls who were being picked on, hoping to gain some friends. She soon found that the world was just a cruel as her family. They hated her because of her last name, and her house, and her family. It was 3rd year and she still hadn't made any friends. She stuck to her ideal saying it was the right thing to do, but she wondered every so often if it was worth the world of pain it brought with it. She kept a void mask on, no reaction, no emotions. No emotion when her cousins shoved her in the corridors, no emotion when her mothers hand would come down, leaving more then just physical wounds. No emotion when people would jeer at her and tug at her tie. But underneath she was crying, sobbing, breaking. Her being was just composed of cracked glass that she was so desperately trying to hold together. But at some point, she was bound to shatter. 

The door to Y/N’s dorm slammed behind her and she collapsed on to her bed. Immediately she felt something burn her face and arms. She leapt up and found her arms and cheek red with burns and the bed smoking. She just sighed and picked up the sheets and gave them a sniff. The draught of the living dead. But just enough to burn. She didn’t even get mad, she knew who did this. She was too tired, to drained to be mad. She was only a shell of the happy, kind, girl she had once been. The water washed over her burns, soothing the angry red that just couldn’t seem to faze her. Throwing on an old pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt she headed out of the dorm, eyes shining and threatening to break. It was only the sanctuary of the 2nd floor girls bathroom that she broke. Crumbling, shattering, a million pieces scattered. Sobs racked through her whole body, shaking and trembling. She caught her face in the mirror and she didn’t recognize the girl that stared back. She unleashed a scream so raw that even the sun seemed to cry. Worthless. Failure. Better off dead. Disgrace.  All she could do was cry as she shattered. And she wondered if she would ever be put back together. 

James Potter should not have been out this late. Sirius and him barely fit under the cloak together anymore. But this was essential if the prank was to go smoothly. “Pads, I swear if you don’t shut up I’ll tell Remus you’re in love with him!” He whispered. He had to repress a laugh as Sirius choked on his breath.

“You would not. And I don’t. Love him. Nope.” Sirius said, defensively. James just rolled his eyes and continued walking. Sirius opened his mouth to say more when something flew past them. 

“Pads...?” 

“Yeah?”

“Should we...?” James didn’t have to finish his sentence before Sirius started guiding them down the hall where the figure had gone. They walked in silence until they approached a girls bathroom with light streaming out from under the door. Sirius nodded at James and James reached out a hand to push the door open. James peered through the slightly open door to find, a girl? A girl was sitting on the floor, head in her hands. He could practically feel her sobs as she rocked on the floor. Her hands were red, like they’d been burned, and her hair tumbled down from its bun to frame her face. She shook and trembled until her head snapped up and James jumped. She looked in the mirror and James didn’t think he’d ever seen that much pain in a person before. Her eyes were swollen and tears ran down her face. She looked so sad and small. Her hands shook as she ran them down her face. Before he could react, she let out a scream. James’s eyes filled with tears and he felt his heart drop right through his feet. The scream was so full of pain and hatred, anger and sadness that he nearly fell over. She had collapsed again and just cried. Each cry was a knife to the chest as the sobs tore threw her. He went to walk in, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Sirius was motioning him out and he widened his eyes trying to tell him that he had to go in. He had to help!  But Sirius was firm and dragged him away, prank long forgotten. When the reached the common room, Sirius sat down in an armchair across from James as he wore a hole in the carpet by pacing. 

“James,” Sirius said quietly, “sit down for a second.”

“Sit down! SIT DOWN!” James roared and then remembering that it was late, he lowered his voice, “Did you see her?! We should’ve helped her! I could’ve helped her!” James’s voice broke at the end and he looked away. 

“James, if you went barging in, do you think she would've appreciated that?” James sighed but Sirius kept going, “She needed a moment, and besides, I know her. I know her.” He trailed off at the end, his face contorted with guilt. 

“You know her?” James’s voice was soft, “Who?” He felt himself stumble back into the couch. 

“Y/N Monroe,” Sirius closed his eyes, memories washing over him, “I grew up with her. Our families were close. Her dad didn’t believe in any of the pureblood supremacy bullshit and left as soon as he found out that that’s what the family believed. She was like him. She always had a good moral compass.” A smile passed over his face fondly, “She liked to play quidditch with me...”

“Pads?” Sirius had never heard this tone in James’s voice before. Not when speaking about Evans, not when talking Rem down after a full moon, never. “What happened? Why don’t you talk anymore?”

“She was sorted into Slytherin” was the only response Sirius could provide. Silence overtook the pair, guilt hitting Sirius in waves. He had abandoned her and look what that had done. 

James was the one who broke the silence, “I’m going to be her friend.”

James was true to his word. The very next day he sat next to her and just talked. Surprisingly, she was really funny and easy to talk to. They would talk about quidditch, he would tell her about all his pranks, she would tell him about the books she read. When he invited her to sit with the marauders at the Gryffindor table, she was scared. She knew James and Sirius were friends but she was terrified about seeing him again. James assured her that he wanted to make it up to her. After a few days of begging on James’s part, she agreed. That day, Sirius had apologized and they rekindled the ashes of their old friendship. She had officially made friends in the most unexpected of people. Since becoming friends with James this fall, the year had gone from worst to best in a matter of weeks. She started spending most of her day with the Marauders and often found herself in their dorm more then her own. Her heart was suddenly light all the time and she never was without a smile. It was like a dream, she had friends she had James, and she was happy.

James was happy too. Y/N was like nothing he had ever expected. She could simply just listen to him and understand. She was funny and just so good. It was inexplicable. She was like a gentle breeze on a hot summer day. When she smiled at him, his heart grew about a million sizes bigger. When he first made her laugh, he almost passed out. It was so precious, that laugh, and he made it a goal to hear it everyday. It was like she was feeding life into him with each smile, each soft tease, each laugh. His mind would often wander back to the time in the bathroom, her tears running down her face, her body shaking with sobs. But he had to remind himself that those tears had become smiles and that her body shook with laughter rather than sobs. Everything felt better with her around. The sun, a little brighter. His flying, a little faster.  It was like she was feeding life into him with each smile, each soft tease, each laugh.  He was hopelessly in love with her. 

“You’re just jealous that Slytherin has a better keeper then Gryffindor!” Y/N laughed. The marauders sat in their dorm, Y/N tucked between James’s lanky legs. 

“Am not! He’s a horrible keeper! And ugly!” James retorted, shoving her back off his chest so she could look at him. 

“Didn’t Sirius say he was cute the other day?” 

Remus and Sirius both answered at the same time

“Sirius-”

“I DID NOT!”

“You did, but you also mentioned how he looked like a certain someone...” Y/N trailed off, smirk growing. She never missed an opportunity to make fun of Sirius and Remus after she caught them snogging last month. The two blushed and suddenly the board game was very interesting. James looked around in confusion before stretching back and lying down. Y/N glanced down and went to get up, wanted to leave James in piece for a nap. As her knees left the bedframe, a hand wrapped around her wrist and she flinched but managed to bite back her scream. James cocked an eyebrow at her, questioning. 

“You ok, love?” he asked quietly enough that she knew it was just for her.

“Yeah, just startled me is all” She managed as she struggled to calm her racing heart. Y/N cursed herself internally, usually she was fine with physical contact. In fact, she found it quite comforting. But when she wasn’t ready, all she could see was her mother’s hands and her father’s fists. 

“M’ tired love, wanna nap?” James yawned and Y/N realized with a start that he meant with him. She felt heat race to her cheeks and she gave a small nod. He opened his arms and Y/N climbed in and tucked her head into his neck. He gave a soft exhale and tightened his arms around her. His breath ruffled her hair and tickled her neck. His calming presence washed over her in waves with each inhale and exhale. She let her eyes close and for once she wasn’t scared of the things that haunted her dreams. Here, she felt safe. Safe. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time. 

Y/N should’ve known that a feeling a safety would only last so long. As she walked out of James’s dorm that night, she could feel a pair of eyes watching her. Their presence tingled on her back and her head. She slowly slipped her hand inside her robe and tightened her grip on her wand. She was nearly to the dungeons when she heard it. “Y/N/N!” a voice trilled. Y/N’s stomach dropped. She knew that voice.  Her cousins had found out about her recent bond with James and the Gryffindor's. She should’ve known that they would come sooner or later. Just another reason she was a failure. 

Y/N took a deep breath in and called back “Yes, Owen?”

Owen gave a malicious chuckle, “I have a present for you!” and with that he stepped out into the light. But it wasn’t just him. Y/N felt her whole body freeze. Her mother. Tall, commanding, cruel. And standing right in front of her. “She knows her potions, right, Y/N?” It took a moment for the meaning to hit Y/N and when it did she nearly fell over. Her mother had been behind the potion on her mattress. Why had she thought any different? She was taken back to the girl she was all those nights ago, breaking down in the girls bathroom. Broken, hurt and tired. 

“Y-you did that?” Y/N’s voice was barely audible in the large hallway, the space between her and her mother eating away at the sound. 

“Well, darling, I had to show you that we will not be shamed by you, didn’t I?” Her mother’s voice was cold and calculating, the honey she tried to inflict felt more like the lick of a whip, lashing out in every syllable. “Obviously, that didn’t work, as dear Owen says,” She stopped to give her nephew a fond look, “told me that you’d made some friends” Y/N’s mother spat the word with such disgust and her nose wrinkled as if the mere idea was repulsive. “You’ve been associating with blood traitors and mudbloods”

Y/N was cowering, each word her mother said seemed to sink her farther into the floor. 

“Maybe it’s time you really let the lesson... sink in.” Her mother crowed. Her mother advanced until she was looking down at Y/N. Her claw-like hands drew Y/N’s chin up to look at her. A palm struck her cheek.

“Worthless” The next 20 minutes were a blur of flying hands and purple bruises. Each hit broke down the glass she had finally put back together. She shut her eyes against the pain but she could still here. “Stupid”

Disgrace

Not good enough

Loser

Fat

She tried to stay strong, she really did, but tears fell in hot waterfalls down her face. Then it was over. “You are nothing.” was the last thing she heard before they were gone. She was left alone to pick up the broken pieces. Again. She slowly dragged her bruised and battered body up toward the same girls bathroom. The irony did strike her as she pulled herself in front of the mirror. The girl who stared back was purple and blue. Inside and out. The marks her mother and cousin had left would join the scars on her hands from the potion. They would join her memorabilia of pain. Of hatred. She wasn’t good enough. Worthless. Failure. GO DIE. NOTHING. The thoughts just kept getting louder and louder. Her hands were in her hair, tugging at the ends, pulling and pulling and pulling. James. Y/N wasn’t even aware of herself as she walked the halls, bloodied and limping. Her face reflected no pain, only defeat. It was only outside James’s door did she stop. Why would he want you? You, you who is nothing. You who is a broken thing. A basket case. He will never love someone who isn’t even whole anymore. Her glassy eyes pooled with tears which spilled. Her body gave out, collapsed on the floor. Go to sleep. Just die here. Her mind whirled with taunts. She just wished it would go away. She wished she could go away.

“Y/N?” James. His voice sounded so, so broken. Shattered. “Y/N, love, what’s going on?” She just shook her head. James fell to his knees next to her. His breath caught as he saw her face. “Y/N!” Tears burned the backs of his eyes, and then he felt the anger. Who? Who would’ve thought that they could hurt her? “Please-” he shut his eyes as the whisper curled out of his mouth.

“James...” her voice cracked, all happiness vanished, he was left to hear the same raw unadulterated pain from that night in the bathroom. He wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her inside the dorm room, pressing light kisses to her hair. Sirius and Remus jumped up, eyes wide, shocked. James just jerked his head to the door. They exchanged a look. James and her needed this moment. With that, they filed out silently, defeated eyes heavy on Y/N’s figure.

“Y/N, please. What happened to you baby?” It registered in neither of their minds that he had called her baby. The worry in his voice was slowly drowning her. Why did he care so much?

“I- James- I can’t” Fresh tears streamed threw James’s shirt. James pulled away, his large hand coming up to cup Y/N’s delicate cheek. His finger feathered over the bruises lightly. 

“Y/N.” his voice was firm but his hand was still just as gentle, soothing her face with each stroke, “Who the hell hurt you?” His burning eyes spilled over and he turned his head away. 

“No. Stop pretending you care! I’M NOTHING!” Y/N’s sadness had gave way to anger and she was yelling, tears still flowing. She wouldn’t stop. “I’m a basket case! Why would you love someone who doesn’t even love themselves?” James’s eyes widened. She thought he didn’t love her. Instinct took over and he reached his other hand to grasp Y/N’s wrist which was pulling at her hair and kissed her. Y/N stiffened but as James’s lips move against hers she let go. Her arms twined around his neck, digging her fingers into his hair. James was so overwhelmed with love for her that he had to pull away. Y/N was looking at him in shock. Her eyes full blown wide and mouth still open in surprise. 

“I love you. You are something. You mean everything to me. You are my life. My soul and my body. I love you even when you don’t love yourself and I will keep loving you until you do. I love you.” Y/N choked on a sob, “I first wanted to be your friend because I saw you crying, breaking down in a bathroom. I felt so helpless, so lost but when I had you near me, I was complete. You are the other part of my soul. I love you. And I always have.” James cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers again. “Tell me baby, I’m here” She just looked at him and he felt her pain, her happiness, her love. 

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips “I love you. I’ve wanted to say it for so long. I love you.” She pulled away and let a sob run through her, “And you love me.” James nodded, a sad smile gracing his strong features. 

And so she told him, told him everything. From the potion on the bed to the summers before to tonight. He didn’t interrupt, just let her talk. He gasped at parts, cried at parts and when it got hard to tell the story, he would rub this thumb over her hand and let her take a break. Y/N was exhausted by then end but she had never felt lighter. Someone knew. And someone loved her for it. James tucked them into bed, bringing her into his warmth. As the light faded from the lamp and Y/N let sleep take her away, James pressed his face against her neck and whispered his love and his apologies and his hopes. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again, my love. Never.” 

Edit: just gave this a name, i totally forgot the first time :)

[the-chick-of-the-air]

Hello my lovelies!!

Ok let me just start by saying- 600 followers?! Are you kidding?? Thank you all SO much! I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have every single one of you interested enough in my blog to be following me! Thank you thank you thank you!!!🥰🥰

Now I’m gonna repay you by breaking your hearts!

This is my first try at anything super angsty, so if your gonna yell at me afterwards please feel free to do so in the comments or in my ask box or even just reblogging and cursing me in the tags🤣 please let me know what you think!

TW: Major character death, mentions of vomiting and allusions to body mutilation- nothing graphic just vaguely indicated but whatever you are comfortable with is up to you! If any of what I warned makes you uncomfortable please don’t read! Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction!

Update: I’m sorry- I posted this and for some reason the tag list wasn’t working but it should be now! If your username has changed please let me know so I can tag you properly down below!❤️

Summary: Someone important dies. Cardan deals with it. Grab your tissues❤️

Final Resting Place

“I’m…I’m so sorry.” The folk are not in the habit of apologizing, much less for something that is so common. It matters not, Cardan has ceased listening, has heard nothing after The Bomb uttered those damning words.

Jude is dead.

He recalls, distantly, a time when Nicasia drug him halfway to her underwater kingdom, wishing to show him its beauty and splendor. He recalls how helpless he felt, how he could breathe but it wasn’t right. How he was silenced and the pressure from the water was crushing his chest so painfully it didn’t matter if he could breathe or not.

This feels near exactly like that.

“Your Highness?” Someone is asking a question he doesn’t hear. He doesn’t even ask them to repeat themselves. All he can do is state,

“She is to be brought back here. Burned on the pyres.” A Queen’s funeral. The only funerals the folk bothered to observe.

Someone, The Roach, likely, grunts in disapproval, “She… we…are not able to bring the body back. It was…”

Cardan isn’t sure what part of that statement makes his stomach churn the worst, the fact that they just referred to his wife, their queen as a body, or the fact that there apparently isn’t too much of her body to bring back.

He tries not to think, not to guess at what death was so brutal that she doesn’t even have a body left.

And that really is it, isn’t it? She, his fierce, vibrant, deadly queen, who always looked over her shoulder, is- was always so cautious, secretly ruling over a land that was designed to kill her, the mighty Jude Duarte, slayer of the folk-

Killed by something mortal.

In the mortal lands.

Where he sent her.

It was almost laughable, Cardan did laugh. Hysteria bubbling up in his chest like bile, which it might have been because suddenly the churning in his stomach was no longer violent but imminent and he’s throwing himself into the bathing chamber.

He doesn’t hear the court of shadows, her court of shadows, retreating as he retches into the chamber pot.

~.~

Time has lost all meaning.

It’s been days, weeks, months. The days pass in a blur, marked only by those who knew what she meant to him coming to give their condolences. Like it could lessen the pain of her being gone. Lessen the pain that came with the knowledge that this was his fault.

It was so ironic it hurt. Had he not exiled her to the mortal lands for her protection, she would have still been alive, ruling where she belonged, right by his side.

And now, she would never get to rule her kingdom openly. She would never share his throne, his crown, his name, his bed again.

She was gone before he got to have her.

And it was his own damn fault.

He refused to hold any audience with Taryn. It wasn’t fair, her twin was dead and she was parading around wearing her face. He knew that should he take one look at her, he would break beyond recognition.

The only thing keeping him alive on the throne being Jude’s memory, how she would have wanted, commanded him to keep ruling, even if she wasn’t there to do it with him.

He did allow an audience with Viviane, once. She had all but demanded it and would hardly take no for an answer. She arrived, eyes puffy and bloodshot, looking as terrible as he felt which didn’t seem fair either.

He wanted to be alone in his pain, for it to be all his own, because no one could understand, could relate to how he felt for her. Why should they share in his grief? The newest plate of armor he has cast over his heart?

She wasted no time on condolences, which in itself was strangely comforting. She got straight to the point, “You missed the funeral.”

“A mortal tradition.” His voice was hoarse with disuse. Had he gone so long without speaking to anyone? That didn’t seem possible.

“Dammit Cardan! She would have wanted you there.” Her anger was refreshing, a nice change of pace compared to the complete emptiness that was left behind in the shape of a mortal footprint upon his heart.

He almost wants to disagree, but that would make no sense. The folk can’t lie, not even half-fae.

When he doesn’t respond, Vivi crosses her arms, “Will you at least come visit her? Say your goodbyes? You have to say yes, we both know you need it.”

And painful as it was, she was right. The one thing that hurt worse than Jude being dead, knowing that it was because of him, was that he didn’t get to say goodbye. That all his letters to her went unanswered. That she died without knowing how much he needed her. How much he missed her and all she was to him. How much he…

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he silently rises and follows Vivi to his queen’s final resting place.

~.~

The mortal world is bright and loud and reeks of iron and is so alive it feels audacious. How dare anyone else continue living when someone from this place, someone so important, so above them was forced to forfeit that right?

The plot of land where she- what’s left of her- is laid to rest is small. The headstone sits, new and clean, next to two more that are dulled with age.

Justin and Eva Duarte.

Madoc had somehow procured graves for the two mortals he slaughtered, and now their youngest daughter lay beside them.

They are standing there for ten minutes before Vivi speaks, “You know, when someone visits the grave of someone they love, they usually look at it.” Her voice is monotone as she stares at the slab of stone sitting at the head of a patch of newly sprouted grass.

He’s not sure he can. If he looks, if he sees there is in fact a final stop, a final holding place for this restless mortal, then he will know it is real. That this wasn’t all some elaborate trick or punishment of her own making to get back at him for her banishment.

Foolish as it is, that was a dark hope buried deep inside him. That she was really still there, biding her time, waiting until he was just ruined enough to waltz back into his life to teach him a well deserved lesson. Perhaps on gratitude, on not taking things for granted.

It would be such a Jude thing to do.

A hand rests on his shoulder and he nearly flinches away, “I’ll give you a minute.”

Her footsteps recede, utterly fae and silent. So unlike the ones he desperately wishes to hear a final time.

It takes him maybe two minutes more for his eyes to finally find the headstone. He is shocked to find he can barely read what is inscribed upon it through tears that have filled his eyes.

Jude Duarte-Greenbriar

Beloved sister and wife

2001-2019

His tears come in earnest, then. How had he never known she took his name as well? Had cared enough to do so? Or was this something her sisters did to spite him? He pressed his lips together in an attempt to stifle any sobs trying to break free.

Cautiously, so cautious she would be proud, he runs his fingers over the inscription of her name- their name. When he knows his voice will be steady, he speaks.

“Well, wife.” He presses his eyes closed as a fresh wave of tears pushes at his senses, “I doubt either of us saw it coming to this.” Gently, he tugs something out of the satchel he brought with him.

“It was yours. For you to wear upon your return. For when you came home.” He couldn’t stop his voice from breaking as he carefully laid the crown down at the foot of the headstone, glamoured so mortals would see it as a pile of painted rocks.

“I guess in a way, I got what you thought I wanted. For you to…” He can’t even bring himself to say it. He had never wanted this. When in palace lessons, he thought that dreams plagued with her scent, her voice, her touch had been the most horrid nightmares. He was wrong, this was far worse than any dream he had of her angry face, her soft hair. This was a nightmare terrifying enough to cripple the strongest of men.

“Well. I guess it doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter that I wish I could take back what I said about you in our childhood. That you would return to the earth, worm food.” He shudders, recalling that he had said those things while imagining that they would have followed a long life. One filled with her aging slowly due to living in Elfhame. Secret imaginings he only allowed himself in the darkest hours of the night- ones where he was by her side and they wreaked havoc together for the rest of their long, full lives. His next words are whispered, “I never imagined it would happen so soon.”

His hand returns to the headstone, gripping the cool rock tightly.

There is nothing left to say aside from one final message. Nothing left to do other than leave this place and continue on in his immortality, letting her fade into the backs of everyone’s memory as the Last Mortal Queen.

Taking a final shaky breath, Cardan utters the truth he had spent nearly his whole life repressing, trying to lie his way around. The words he now so desperately wishes he had said to her before he cast her out of their home in hopes of preventing this very thing from happening.

With one final look upon the place his wife, his queen is forever to rest upon, he whispers,

“I love you.”

~.~

Years and years and years later, young children of the gentry sit in their history lessons amongst their mortal classmates, and learn of the beautiful, treacherous life that was led by the Last Mortal Queen, Jude Duarte-Greenbriar

And that is that! Did I make you cry? Do you want to throw crumpled tissues at my head? Let me know!❤️ (I left out details of Jude’s death on purpose, it’s up to your imagination to come up with what happened to her, sorry for pain😬)

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