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creepsterdreams · 3 months ago

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Hey, I've been thinking of mc having 5 pet snakes. I want to know how ts LI's reaction to it. (not the small kind of snake)

I can say as someone who absolutely loves snakes this would be so funny to watch them react to this

TOUCHSTARVED LI’s HC's: MC having five pet snakes (5 burmese pythons)

Summary: After paying a visit to your new home, that you were finally able to get after living in the Wet Wick for some time, the LI’s are extremely caught off guard when they find five massive pythons resting there.

CW: snakes, mentions of violence and death, Leander being himself, Ocudeus mention, could be read as platonic or romantic

LEANDER

This fucking guy

Upon walking in he just stands there as if you suddenly grew another head

"Hey um...where did you get these?"

You tell them you found them in the market somewhere and the merchant was just giving them away because they couldn't afford to care for them. That's why you were so hooked on moving out of the wet wick so quickly

Hey at least he can stop telling himself it's because you wanted to get away from him-

He just nods and brings his attention back to the snakes

I have a feeling he's one of those guys that pretends he's not afraid of them but is lowkey terrified

You have to convince him that their completely chill and okay as long as you don't give them a chance to suffocate you

As in don't let them wrap around his neck

And for the love of the allmother do not let him convince himself he can tame them or get them to be his bestie, it will not go well

So for a while I just recommend watching whatever interaction he has with them

If you don't have names for them, he will give them names

But it'll be the most random yet cute ones ever

"Good morning, Pesto! ^_^"

"You ready for your lunch Missy?"

"Please get off of my coat Polly I need that-"

And so on

He can take care of them whenever he has the time, and you need to go somewhere

Just don't be surprised when you come back and they all have verryyyy expensive things that you aren't even sure where they came from

Somehow gets his hands on five personalized styled enclosures for all of them?? Where did he even get the money?

"Only the best for my little buddies!! ^_^" he says

You swear he's trying to make them like him more than you

Even though they are snakes and probably don't care that much

"Hey there, I wasn't expecting you to get home so early." You hear Leander say as you walk in through the door.

You hum and put your cloak on a nearby hook, still not turning around to look at the man. "Yeah that gig took less time than I thought, I'm just happy I was able to get the money and go." As you continued on, you eventually look towards Leander, but your words are cut off as you catch sight of what looks to be...him putting tiny hats on your snakes?

"Leander, what are you doing?"

After setting the thing down, he comes towards you, grabbing your hand so he can lead you towards them. "I just..wanted to see which one suited who the best."

Nodding as he says that your gaze drifts back toward the scaly creature, analyzing its new appearance. But once you notice the hat, you can't help but laugh. "Is that a tiny wizard hat?"

"Don't look at me like, it complements the silver in his skin."

AIS

Just walks in and kinda acts as if it's normal?

"Huh, didn't know you were one for pets sparrow."

Goes up to one of the snakes and just...pats it on the head?

Kinda wholesome honestly

"Your owner been treating you right? Blink if you need help."

Okay back to wishing on his downfall

The kind of guy that walks in and greets them as if they're your roommates or something

Has entire conversations with them while you aren't looking, and it's kind of cute to watch

"Yeah, and then the guy just walked away. I know if you're gonna pick a fight with me at least make it interesting."

He knows that they are not the poisonous kinds of snakes, but 100% lies and tells other people they are just to mess with them

He's an asshole we all know this

Ocudeus has a love-hate relationship with them

On one hand, he's impressed you're so comfortable living with five pythons

On the other hand, he doesn't like that they take up most of your time

He's possessive, okay?

Ais one day brings Princess over don't ask how he manage to get her through the city to play with your danger noodles

It goes well, for the most part

Princess and you are a little confused on how it's supposed to work but eventually she gets the hang of it :3

Kinda just....runs around them while they whip around trying to keep their eyes on her

For you and Ais it's like watching your kids have a play date

If he's ever doing anything important, he has at least one of them nearby so they can look over his shoulder so they can watch

You ask him why because there's a good chance of them, not caring

But he just smiles and says "Wouldn't want 'em to not feel included."

Fair point

The best soulless AND snake dad

After waking up from a much-needed nap, you walk towards the room where you kept the enclosers for your snakes, you know that Ais will be visiting, so you won't have to worry too much about them being neglected, as at some points it felt like they were more of his pets than yours.

But you didn't expect to see Ais sitting on the floor, all five of your precious pets surrounding them as they held their heads up in curiosity. Him using one of his fingers to slowly caress the tops of them.

"Having fun there?" You said while leaning against the doorframe.

He turns around, looking up at you with an almost smug gaze. "Thought they could use the company."

You send an equally playful smile and walk up next to him. "How long have you been here, by the way?"

"Long enough that I snatched some of your leftovers."

"...You ate my food?-"

KURAS

Fascinated

That's the best way to describe his reaction to everything

Although he's mostly curious about how you're managing to take care of five giant pythons, given their diets in all

Definitely asked if can study them a bit, even though he's idk how many centuries old and most likely knows a lot about animals

But they are your pets so I guess it feels different

Offers to watch them whenever you can't, so he can observe them a little more

Whenever you come back home you just see him quietly writing things down while glancing at the snakes every few seconds

Once he finally looks up and spots you, he smiles and asks how the journey was

Although he is a doctor, he will do his best to keep up with the health of the precious ones

For you, of course <3

But that also means if there's ever a problem he's the one you turn too

So imagine having a carry a 100-200 pound reptile all the way to the clinic

Not only that but if you had a coin for every odd stare you got you could probably but another snake

Once you do eventually reach Kuras, he does take your concern seriously but if ends up just being a minor issue, don’t judge him if he chuckles a bit

“MC, he isn’t sick, I’m afraid he was just trying to mess with you.”

Oopsie

At least once a week he would bring one of them with him to chill at the clinic, it’s very cute to watch

He’ll be taking care of a patient while the little thing is resting in the background on a branch he bought from somewhere

And as time goes on, it becomes less of my pets and more of our pets

Walking in, your greeted with the sight of what looked to be Kuras sitting on the couch, reading, but what really caught you off guard was one of your pythons leaning over his shoulder, as if they were following along with whatever he was looking at.

The sight alone was enough to warm your heart.

Kuras eventually notices you, looking up from his book and softly smiling. “I was wondering where you had been.”

You nod, taking a seat next to him and gently rubbing the top of your pets head. “I suppose you were entertaining them in my stead?”

He laughs. “They all were well behaved enough, nothing out of the ordinary.”

Humming in response, you lean over to peak at the book, wondering what was so interesting about it that it caught a snakes attention. But before you could even start reading, Kuras spoke up again.

“Although, you might want to worry about finding more enclosures. I caught two of them mating in the tree.”

VERE

You know those cartoon villains that always have some kind of animal companion by their side? Yeah that’s Vere

Upon walking in, Vere's attention is automatically drawn towards them

Walking over and crouching down so he can have a better look

"Oh my, dangerous little darlings, aren't you?"

The only one out of the group to call dangerous animals cute in any way

I, unfortunately, can relate but that's not what we're talking about here

You just stand there and watch as he gently scratches underneath the chins of the reptiles, cooing at them as he does

Honestly it could be one of the few times you see him genuinely smile

Yes, you keep staring because you want to make sure you never forget this moment, why wouldn't you?

Will absolutely take care of them whenever you can't

In fact, he's the first one to volunteer

Except this time when you come home, he's laying down on his back, all five of them surrounding him in what only could be described as an odd cuddle pile

How he got them into that position without risking himself being suffocated, no one will ever know

But that's pretty much what you expect now whenever he's over

Even whenever you're not there, he still finds a way into your house

He keeps getting in because he stole the key

"Oh I wasn't expecting you to get home so early. ^_^" He says as he's currently putting different scarfs on the python

Please try to talk him out of this but he WILL attempt to teach them to suffocate and only harm the ones he dislikes

Yes that includes Leander-

If you try to stop him he'll smirk and tell you to let him have his fun

All in all an okay snake dad

You watched as Vere held one of your snakes in his hands, its head resting on his palm as he leans in close, cooing as he always did.

"Such a beautiful one you are, the perfect mix of viciousness and elegance." He continues as he caresses the tops of their head.

At a certain point, you think he cares more about them than you. And honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he did. This was Vere we're talking about.

Looking back up at you, his grin widens, as he gently sets them down and stands up from his seat.

"Oh, come now, don't tell me your getting jealous."

You huff and walk past him, picking up your pet to move them back into their enclosure. "You wouldn't know."

Vere lets out a halfhearted laugh, before sitting back down and watching you take care of the little ones he's grow oh so fond of.

MHIN

In all honesty, wouldn't react as much as you think they would

I mean, they would be surprised, but not enough to raise any bells

They would mostly be questioning if you are actually able to care for all of them properly, given that Burmese pythons can have a fairly big appetite

Although most of their knowledge is in anatomy, they're willing to learn more about reptiles if it means giving you advice about caring for them

Definitely not also because it will be an excuse to talk to you

They toss you a kind of food for them and say, "I saw this somewhere in one of those books, thought you could learn from it."

Meany

Not the type to jump at the chance to volunteer to care for them, or really want to for that matter

No hard feelings just with everything else going on in their life they don't really think they'll have time for it

But that doesn't mean they abandon the idea altogether

If your gone for a long period, then they stop by every once in a while, to check on them, and feed them if needed

One time you came back unexpectedly early and you watched them move around with one of the snakes as if they were mimicking each other

Once they realized you had come back, they pretend as if nothing just happened, but they know, and you know that you saw the whole thing

Will still deny it to this day though

On the occasion whenever they pass by, they would hang out near the enclosures, never asking you to take them out but I guess just, preferring to stay close by

They'll never admit they enjoy them as much as they enjoyed cats

Watching closely, you look as Mhin softly drags one of their hands down the scaly body of your yellow-white python. Even if they didn't know it themselves, you were beginning to think that they had a favorite.

Although they were silent, you could see the calmness in their expression, how their eyes were softened instead of glaring, how their lips shaped into an almost invisible smile. It was rare seeing Mhin happy, even if it was barely noticeable. But it was enough for you to be as silent as possible, not wanting to ruin the moment for them.

But unfortunately, you were dealing with a hunter, so the truth was they had sensed you long before you even walked in.

"Are you going to just keep standing there or what?" You look unsettling."

You jump, not realizing their eyes had been set on you despite not even facing the same direction.

"Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt."

Their content gaze quickly fell to their usual scowl. "Their your damn pet, you wouldn't be interrupting anything."

Guess they did have a nice side.

#Touchtarved #Touchstarved x reader #Touchstarvedgame #Touchstarved headcanon #Touchstarved fanfiction #leander x reader #ais x reader #kuras x reader #vere x reader #mhin x reader #leander #ais #kuras #vere #mhin

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track-maniac · 8 months ago

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Feeling inspired by a post I saw a few months ago, I programmed a simple game of tic-tac-toe in python, in a single expression. Like regular functional programming, this means I can't mutate variables. But more than functional programming, this also means I can't

Declare variables at all

Declare functions

Use most loops and branch structures

The resulting program is 1730 characters long after removing all the non-strictly necessary whitespace and contains "lambda" 9 times.

The players are asked where they want to play using a number for each cell, in the configuration of a standard numpad. The program checks for invalid input too.

Source code under the cut

(lambda grid,toggle,players,cells_filled,print_grid,check_victory,ask_xy,validate_input,the_game:(lambda victor:print('=====\n'+('Draw.'if victor is None else f"{victor} wins!")))(the_game(grid,players,cells_filled,toggle,print_grid,check_victory,ask_xy,validate_input,the_game)))([[7,8,9],[4,5,6],[1,2,3]],True,['X','O'],0,lambda grid:print('\n'+'\n'.join(' '.join(map(str,ligne))for ligne in grid)),lambda grid,players:([player for player in players if any(set(grid[i][col]for i in[0,1,2])=={player}for col in[0,1,2])or any(set(grid[row])=={player}for row in[0,1,2])or set(grid[i][i]for i in[0,1,2])=={player}or set(grid[i][2-i]for i in[0,1,2])=={player}]+[None])[0],lambda players,toggle,grid,ask_xy,validate_input:validate_input(input(f"{players[toggle]}, place your symbol: "),grid,players,toggle,ask_xy,validate_input),lambda selection,grid,players,toggle,ask_xy,validate_input:(lambda selection,grid,players,toggle,ask_xy,validate_input:(selection%3,2-selection//3)if grid[2-selection//3][selection%3]not in players else ask_xy(players,toggle,grid,ask_xy,validate_input))(int(selection)-1,grid,players,toggle,ask_xy,validate_input)if len(selection)==1 and'0'<selection<='9'else ask_xy(players,toggle,grid,ask_xy,validate_input),lambda grid,players,cells_filled,toggle,print_grid,check_victory,ask_xy,validate_input,the_game:(print_grid(grid),the_game((lambda players,toggle,xy,grid:[[players[not toggle]if(j,i)==xy else grid[i][j]for j in[0,1,2]]for i in[0,1,2]])(players,toggle,ask_xy(players,not toggle,grid,ask_xy,validate_input),grid),players,cells_filled+1,not toggle,print_grid,check_victory,ask_xy,validate_input,the_game)if check_victory(grid,players)is None and cells_filled<9 else check_victory(grid,players))[1])

If you can't read any of this, don't worry, I can't either.

You can find the original code and a slightly more readable version on my gitlab: https://gitlab.com/Rijaja/gaae/-/tree/main/tttaae (but careful, the game is in French)

#programming #python #python programming #functional programming

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bluespiderlully · 3 months ago

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KNY - Fix it! AU (+ My Characters) Canon Hashiras

This is the first post of the modern AU series, where I'll share with you moodboards and headcanons, for this post I'll cover just the canon Hashiras and in the next ones we'll see the non-canon and the OCs ones. A little warning: some of these headcanons are angsty but the concept I want here is of course hurt/comfort and it's a "bad things happened in the past but things aren't going bad now, we're all friends" kind of things. Anyway angsty headcanons aren't the majority.

🌊 Giyu Tomioka

Knows how to play piano, likes classical music a lot

60s/70s/80s sci-fi books reader, would probably start a conversation about a random book he red and end up talking about philosophy, religion and politics (Enmu and Harriet are the only ones to have actual conversations about the topics and don't just stand there confused).

Loves marine biology but never succeded in making a goldfish survive for more than one week.

🌫 Muichiro Tokito

Definitely a cat person.

Suffers from sleep paralysis and nightmares but draws anything disturbing he sees as a copying mechanism, Giyu thinks his art is pretty cool.

Super skilled at snowboarding and skateboarding.

🌪 Sanemi Shinazugawa

Overprotective with everyone he becomes friend with.

He always has rage issues, but they used to scare Ayumi off so he started working on it and managed to become calmer.

He doesn't listen to music, he listen to NOISE, if a vocalist doesn't sound like a clogged sink he doesn't listen to it.

🐍 Obanai Iguro

Has a Glasgow smile after surviving a serial killer attack. In this AU he wears a mask too, he just doesn't like to show the scar. He doesn't eat in front of people for the same reason.

Owns a black ball python and a white hognose snake and spends a lot of time decorating his terrarium (but he is careful with the hognose one, he doesn't want him to get stuck stucked as they always do).

Interested in occultism, reads a lot about it.

🌸 Mitsuri Kanroji

She does ballet since when she was 4.

Very good at baking sweets, but likes few of them so she always ends up giving them to others.

Makes friends easily and very quickly, her and Kyojuro are best friends since they were at kindergarten.

☄️ Tengen Uzui

When he was a child he wanted to become an astronaut, now he found out about planetary defense and wants to become part of that organization because "diverting asteroids is cool".

Got in every kind of trouble at school.

Drives like he could respawn infinite times.

🦋 Shinobu Kocho

Could talk about chemistry for hours.

Listens to metalcore and hyper pop and ends up hyperfixating with a song and listening to it until she ends up hating it.

Friends with Obanai, enjoys spending time with him and helping with his terrariums.

🔥 Kyojuro Rengoku

Eats a lot but would set the kitchen on fire if he tries to cook anything.

Couldn't get a driving licence and gave up on trying for his and others safety lol.

Cancer survivor but still feels insecure about his scars and about the fact he has some extra weight. He doesn't like talking about that.

Parts: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

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indie-ttrpg-of-the-week · 11 months ago

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Flying Circus

No not the Monty Python variety Touchstones: Porco Rosso, WW1 media, Ghibli Movies (add a quarter to the jar)

Genre: Aviation game, Fantasy (kinda)

What is this game?: Flying Circus is a game of high octane plane action, where you play as messy mercenary pilots in a WW1 inspired post apocalyptic setting

How's the gameplay?: Flying Circus' narrative side runs on the standard PBTA 2d6 resolution and playbooks rules, but the main difference comes when the cast is on air, wherein the game takes a much more realistic approach to its design. Planes are complex beasts, and the game approaches this by having many mini systems that must be kept track of at all times, it's very overwhelming on paper, but in practice it's honestly quite bearable. The game also has a fairly simple economy to upkeep your planes, a simple relationship system, and a vice system similar to Blades in the Dark

What's the setting (If any) like?: Flying Circus' setting is honestly its strongest point, a post-apocalyptic society who just left a WW1 style war, with many fantasy elements such as witches, dragons with nuclear breath, friendly fishy cultists, and ancient wandering machines of war. It's one of the more "In-Depth" settings I've seen, helped along by having a few novels and stories by the developer set in the same universe.

What's the tone?: Hopeful and Gritty, the world's healing, the people are fighting against their past oppression, and things are getting better, but stuff's muddy and scummy for now. Another thing is that this game is pretty damn horny, nothing egregious but probably not a "read on the subway" Type deal

Session length: 3+ hours should be plenty of time

Number of Players: 3-5 is ideal

Malleability: Flying Circus' actual mechanics can usually be used for any plane heavy setting, though frankly the default setting is part of the reason why you'd be playing flying circus, in my opinion at least

Resources: Flying Circus has multiple expansions, adding new mechanics, new planes, and even a complete spin off in Chariots of Steel, focused more on tank battle

Flying Circus is a game that is incredibly impressive and clearly a labour of love, do yourself a favor and check this one out, even if its on the pricier side

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpg of the week #flying circus

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lostlibrariangirl · 8 months ago

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September 21, 2024

265/366 Days of Growth

A recollection of the past days.

I am so happy I got the 3 certifications that I set as a goal in the beginning of the year. For the next 3 months, I will focus on personal projects for Cybersecurity, ISO 27001 and learning Python.

Also have to organize my readings (academic and leisure readings), as I set a goal for 2024 too.

#studyblr #study #study blog #daily life #dailymotivation #study motivation #studying #study space #productivity #study desk #books and reading #book #bookblr #coffee #coffetime

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starborncoven · 3 months ago

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Greek God Apollo ☀️

Hello everyone! We wanted our first informative post to be about this amazing god who has lighten our paths many times during these years. So here you have a small post about him!

Apollo is the son of Zeus and Leto, titan of the light of night and, later, light of day; and twin brother of Artemis.

God of light, medicine, diseases, plagues, dance, music, writing, arts, divination and prophecy, initiation, colonization, archery, youth and male beauty, among other things.

His best known places of worship were Delphi and Delos, but Apollo's cults have been all over Greece and have been very varied. Moreover, as a god of colonization, many of his cults invaded the lands of others and forced them to worship Apollo. A well-known case is that of the women who worshipped Gaia who ended up being massacred by one of the cults of Apollo, and it was this fact that gave rise to the myth of Apollo and Daphne.

Being such a popular god in both Greece and Rome, he has a multitude of myths that reflect very well his diversity and ambivalence. Let's talk about, for example, that of his birth, which can also be consulted in the Homeric Hymn III to Apollo. Here we will speak only of one of the versions, since it has several.

It all begins when Zeus got Leto pregnant. Hera, who was jealous, made it impossible for Leto to give birth anywhere both on land and in the ocean. Luckily for Leto, his sister Asteria had also been harassed by Zeus and, to escape from him, had turned herself into a floating island by the name of Ortigia. Thus, Leto found a place to rest.

However, Hera had put more obstacles in her way. She had forbidden Ilithia, goddess of childbirth, to attend the titanide, so Leto spent nine days and nine nights in agony until the other gods managed to bribe Ilithia.

First Artemis was born, who assisted her mother to help in the birth of Apollo; he was born on the seventh day of the month, hence the number usually associated with the god.

Ortigia was renamed Delos, where a temple and a statue were established in honor of Apollo. From here comes one of his epithets: Delius Apollo.

On the other hand, the serpent or dragon Python resided in Delphi, where he had an oracle. It is said that one of his prophecies spoke that it would be a son of Leto who would kill him, so he had pursued the Titan during her pregnancy and did not stop until Zeus put a stop to it.

Thus, on the fourth day of his birth, Apollo set out for Delphi with his bow and arrows in hand to avenge his mother. There he killed Python with one of his arrows, and one of his epithets is "Apollo far-shooter", and took the oracle. Other versions say that he chased the dragon to Tempe and killed him there.

Apollo established his oracle in Delphi and, in honor of Python, placed his bones in a cauldron that would serve both for the oracle and for the initiation of the Pythia. And here is born another of his epithets: Apollo Pythius.

As you can see, he is a rational and at the same time visceral god. He has his reasons for killing Python, but he still doesn't think twice and does it.

There are many more myths, such as that of Admetus and Apollo, Niobe and the children of Leto, or the well-known myths of Apollo and his lovers (which are not few), such as Daphne, Hyacinth, Cassandra, Cipariso or Coronis. I invite you to read them and learn about him.

As for his attributes, Apollo is related to the number 7, to wolves for shepherding, to mice for plagues, to laurel for his myth with Daphne or even for his myth with Python and his victory against him, to hyacinths for the myth of Hyacinth and an endless number of animals, plants and crystals such as crows, cypresses or the sunstone.

He is also characterized by his silver bow, the sun and the lyre, which he acquired from Hermes.

Apollo is the chief of the muses and nymphs, the lord of the arts in all fields, although at the beginning it was especially of dance. And, if you want to work something related to the arts, Apollo is the right god.

The arts, oratory, divination, sports, self-esteem, self-respect, anxiety, medicine (biosanitary field in general), decision making, personal growth, etc., are areas that can be worked with him.

Personally I have a very good relationship with Apolo. I have been in contact with him for a few years now and we have worked on some things together, and I can assure you that it is a pleasure to work and talk with him. I don't want to generalize, because the gods present themselves differently to each person, but he tends to be patient and very kind, as well as funny if he trusts you.

Apollo is, in my opinion, such a diverse and magnificent god that you can learn everything from him. Just don't piss him off, because his bow never misses and it hurts when he shoots an arrow.

And so much for this divine Sunday! This month we dedicate it to Apollo in the account. What did you think? Do you want to know more about him? Have a sunny day ☀️

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whencyclopedia · 6 months ago

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Typhon

Typhon (also Typheus) is the largest and most dreadful monster in Greek mythology. He was tall, with a brutish face, and had wings, countless snakeheads in place of hands, and a lower body made up of coiled serpents. His eyes flashed fire, and fiery rocks fell from his mouth.

Typhon was the son of Gaia (the Earth) and Tartarus (the Infernal Regions), although he is also mentioned as being the son of Hera in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. He joined in love with Echidna, a half-woman, half-snake creature, and together they had many fierce children. The most famous myth associated with Typhon is his battle with Zeus and the Olympian gods, as he sought to rule over gods and mortals. Typhon is also associated with Set from ancient Egyptian mythology and other Near Eastern myths.

Birth & Family

In revenge for the destruction of her children (the Giants), Gaia lay with Tartarus and gave birth to Typhon, the biggest monster in Greek mythology, in a cave in Cilicia. In the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, the birth of Typhon is very different. He was the son of Hera, who was angry that Zeus had given birth to Athena without any involvement from her. Hera begged that Gaia, Uranus, and the Titans would give her a son who was mightier than Zeus. She became pregnant after she beat the Earth with her hand. She stayed in her temples and accepted offerings to her. After many months had passed, she gave birth to the cruel and dreaded Typhon. Hera gave Typhon to the dragon Python to be brought up, and they both wreaked havoc among the mortals.

Typhon fell in love with Echidna, a half-woman, half-snake creature, who was both beautiful and terrible to look at, and together they had some of the most fearsome monsters in Greek mythology.

First, Orthos the dog of Geryon, and next, Unspeakable Cerberus, who eats raw flesh, The bronze-voiced hound of Hades, shameless, strong With fifty heads. And then again she bore The Lernaean Hydra, skilled in wrong, the one The goddess white-armed Hera raised, who was Immensely angry with great Heracles.

(Hesiod, Theogony, 311-318).

#History #Apollo #Apollodorus #Delphyne #WHE #[#]

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drawlfoy · 2 years ago

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the benefits of journaling p.1

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: she/her pronouns/reader that stays in the girl's dorms, language, eventual discussion of murder and whatnot but not yet!, you being a little femcel-aligned/obsessed, tom being awkward because he's been stuck in a diary without talking to anyone for 50 years, i fumble around trying to explain how to brew potions after taking only one semester of high school biology

please note that this tom riddle is definitely not the same tom riddle that dumbledore describes in canon. i read a few meta posts that rewired my brain and now my tom riddle is ~complicated~ and not just evil and murdery for the plot. so just keep that in mind lol

a/n: whoa is this....something other than draco on this blog? yes. im suffering right now and needed to get this out. hopefully i can get this longfic completed within 2-3 parts! i'm not using my usual taglist because i don't know how many of my draco readers want this

wc: 10k

The day you unknowingly bought a part of the late Lord Voldemort’s soul was like any other. It was overcast, the thick clouds a somber, humid ceiling hanging above you and Lucy as you made your way through the annual antiques sale in a dusty corner of Diagon Alley.

“Y/N,” said your companion for the day—a slight, freckled witch with mushroom brown waves and a perpetual smile etched into her mouth. “Look. This is so you.”

You looked up from the bookshelves of one of the stands. It took you a moment to see what she was holding, but once it came into focus, you rolled your eyes. “Oh, sod off. Not funny.”

Lucy just cackled, tossing the crudely carved wooden snake back onto the pile wearing a wicked grin.

The world is cruel in that you can scream once when you see Draco Malfoy’s pet ball python in third year and no one ever lets you forget it.

You turned away from Lucy, looking back to the old bookshelf that had been moved onto the cobbled street. The rich mahogany wood was close to buckling under the weight of all the tomes stacked haphazardly atop each other—far more than would be advisable.

But it wasn’t just the furniture that caught your eye. No, it was the glimpse of a black spine on the bottom, partially hidden away by an ancient encyclopedia on arithmancy.

You knelt, carefully arranging your robes so that they wouldn’t pick up dust from the street. You narrowly managed to avoid sending all the books on top tumbling into the street by slowly sliding it out from under the stack.

An unimpressively sized black journal laid in your hand, looking entirely unassuming and incredibly boring.

You frowned. A quick flip-through confirmed that it was in fact a journal—and that there was nothing written in it.

Why would someone try to sell an unused journal at an antiques market? You wondered, turning it over in your hand. Though its pages appeared entirely pristine, you could see some wear on the cover. There were no markings detailing when it had been manufactured.

It could very well have been an antique journal, you conceded. But why anyone would want an empty journal made years ago was beyond you.

You went to set the journal back onto the stack, getting so far as to nearly loosen your grip and let it drop from your fingers, when—

You had to buy this journal.

You weren’t sure why, or how. You just knew that this journal was coming home with you today, even if it was the least interesting thing you could’ve come across in your shopping trip.

“What’s that?” asked Lucy, appearing at your side and gently taking the journal from you.

“Just an empty journal, I think,” you answered, staring blankly at it in her hands.

“You know we can just get a normal new one at the bookstore, right?”

“Well, I like this one,” you heard yourself say. “It has…character.”

“Character.” She snorted, holding it up next to her face. “This is the most bland looking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Consider yourself blind, then. Surely they’ll charge you twice the cost for this since it’s allegedly ‘vintage’.” Lucy made liberal use of air quotes. “You sure you don’t want to stop by the bookstore before we go? It’ll be on our way.”

“No, it’s really fine,” you said, taking it back into your hands, “I really like this one for some reason. I don’t know. There’s just something about it.”

Lucy tilted her head, giving it one last odd look. “Whatever you say. You go check out, then. Mum’s going to expect me back soon and the queue looks a bit long.”

The journal sat in your bag for the remainder of the summer, nearly forgotten as you went about your day. You opened it for the first time to examine it on August 31st, just a day before you were off to begin your 6th year.

There was writing that you hadn’t noticed before—thin, elegant script on the inside of the cover in black lettering. A simple “Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

You stared, letting your finger trace gently across the parchment. There was a slight indentation at the lower swoop of the last letter “L”, like whoever had written it had pressed a little too hard with his quill.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” you whispered, trying the syllables out on your tongue. You’d never heard of any wizard named that before. You wondered how long it had been since those words had been written. You wondered if Tom Marvolo Riddle was still alive, and if he was, why he saw it fit to mark his property and then swiftly lose its custody to an antiques dealer.

Oh well. Sucks to suck, you thought dryly as you took the quill that you’d been using to finish updating your calendar and lifted it over the parchment. Whatever happened to the crusty old dinosaur that hadn’t even been able to make one full entry into his own journal before croaking or whatever was none of your business.

You’d barely started out how you imagined a normal person would begin a diary—a date, August 31st—when it suddenly became clear why this Tom fellow had been unable to leave a lasting mark.

The ink hadn’t even begun to dry before it sank into the pages, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, dumbstruck. You dipped your quill in ink once again and drew a series of short slashes across the first page, using more ink than was strictly necessary.

In a moment it was as if they had never been there.

WHAT??? You wrote mindlessly in the freshly blank page as your mind spun. What kind of magic was this? And what was the point?

No wonder you’d been drawn to it. It was probably dripping in all sorts of charms. Maybe the combination had been unintentionally alluring to particular passerbys.

Before you could think any further, the clean page transformed again, but not at your hand.

Hello.

The word assembled letter by letter, as if a ghost was writing it over your shoulder.

It seems you've found my journal.

You stared. A journal that could write back to you. Huh. A smile caught on your lips as you became glad after all that you’d chosen this one over a plain bookstore version.

How old are you? You wrote, resting your chin in your palm as you waited for a response as to whether or not your new acquisition actually belonged at the antiques market.

Sixteen.

You frowned. That was hardly vintage.

This was made sixteen years ago?

The response appeared quickly..

No. I'm sixteen.

Yeah. You were made sixteen years ago.

This time, the journal seemed to hem and haw at the response.

What year is it? Was the final answer that appeared.

What year do you think?

1943.

A little off. you wrote impishly.

Oh really?

Just a smidge.

Define a smidge, please.

What does it matter to you?

This seemed to stump the journal.

May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking with?

You may not. Then, because you had nothing better to do, you dipped your quill and drew out a Tic-Tac-Toe board, placing an X in the middle.

The board disappeared into the page, and for a moment you wondered if you’d annoyed your magical journal too much. But then it reappeared, this time with an O in the middle.

You huffed. When you took too long to respond, another line appeared below.

I'm Tom. Tom Riddle.

You stared at the letters, the implications sinking in. If the journal had belonged to Tom—who was presumably a real person at some point in his life—then that would mean…which meant…

In seconds you’d slammed the journal shut and had your wand out, poking at the binding and being careful to avoid touching it again with your bare hands. Stupid, stupid you, buying something that had so clearly been engineered to lure you in, just like it probably had done to Tom back in the 40s.

The antique market rarely had issues with unknowingly cursed objects. They were allegedly thoroughly vetted by the stand officials to ensure that something like this didn’t happen. But perhaps this one had fallen through the cracks.

There was nothing you could do for now except to wrap the journal in a blanket and throw it into your suitcase. As a muggleborn, there was going to be no real magic for you until tomorrow on the train.

Better to investigate then, you decided firmly. With access to spellwork, you could at least cast protective wards around yourself and try to detect what exactly was wrong with it the next time you touched it.

Yes, you thought. That cannot possibly go wrong.

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, what was that?” You blearily blinked in the direction of Lucy and Ishan, both sitting there with an expectant look on their faces.

“I was saying that I’m pretty sure that Parkinson and Malfoy are actually together this time,” said Lucy, frowning. “I just came from the loo and his head was in her lap. Revolting, to be entirely honest. I can’t believe I had to see that with my own eyes. But whatever. Are you feeling alright? You keep spacing out.”

“I’m fine.” You pulled the fabric of your robe over your wrist so you could gently scrub at your eyes. “Just—tough night last night. I barely slept.”

“I totally get that,” mused Lucy, nodding as her gaze fixed itself on the window. “I can normally never get to sleep the night before we leave. I just get so excited for the new year.”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

But that hadn’t been your problem. Despite the creepy journal encounter that had left you with your mind spinning, you’d fallen asleep deeply the moment you’d gotten into bed. The issue had been staying asleep after all the dreams you’d had.

You rarely dreamt. When you did and remembered it the next day, it was normally nonsensical and had to do with forgotten final exams or missing a lecture. But last night…last night had been different.

There was a boy. His hair was dark and his face cast mostly in shadow, his voice a tenor that seemed typical to boys in your year. He hadn’t been speaking anything you’d understood, though. The most peculiar, bone-chilling hissing noises came from his mouth as he bowed his head leaned over a vaguely familiar sink.

Even though he wouldn’t acknowledge you, it was as if a channel had been opened between you two, like you could feel his emotions as phantoms within you.

Franticness. Vindictiveness. A thirst for vengeance beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

You sat watching this mysterious dark haired boy from the cobbled floor, feeling the wetness on the stones seep into your robes, climbing up and up until it soaked your skin.

At precisely 4 in the morning, you’d shot awake so distressed that you hadn’t slept a wink after. Needless to say, you were hardly what you’d consider to be well-rested.

The remainder of the train ride and the welcoming feast went on without a hitch. You managed to keep yourself from falling asleep at dinner and even joined in on the cheering for new Ravenclaws. The first years seemed to look younger and younger every year, you noted dully as you cut into the roast on your plate. It was making you feel awfully old.

Sixth year was supposed to be exciting—the year of N.E.W.T.S and figuring out what you’d concentrate in during your final year and getting to go to Hogsmeade without permission. But you hadn’t quite figured out what it was that you wanted to study. Being a muggleborn from a modest upbringing meant that you couldn’t be too frivolous. There was no amateur art or sports or celebrity career in your future. You couldn’t even count on marrying well—or marrying at all, in fact. None of your halfblood or pureblood friends seemed to understand that your family hadn’t already had an engagement arranged for you from the moment you were born. It was hard to look forward to a life that was so cloaked in uncertainty.

That being said, you had more immediate concerns to attend to. Though the journal was tucked safely away in one of your suitcases far away in the Ravenclaw Tower, you couldn’t help but feel its presence. You were itching to get back to your dorm so you could steal away into a corner and begin to inspect it.

Dumbledore finally dismissed the students after a rather uninspiring speech about the importance of dreaming big and staying true to yourself. You all but ran up the stairs, rushing to unpack all of your things.

“Merlin,” noted Padma from her desk. “That excited to move in?”

“I just want to go to bed,” you said, relishing the feeling of casting a spell to quickly stow away your skirts and button ups into your dresser. “Long day.”

“And even longer tomorrow.” Lucy was sitting at her desk, her feet crossed at the ankles. She’d somehow unpacked even quicker than you. “Does everyone have their finalized timetable for the term?”

“I’ve got Potions with Slughorn and Transfiguration with McGonagall on Mondays and Thursdays,” you began, unzipping your last bag and flicking your wand to send your school supplies to your desk. “Divination with Trelawney, Arithmancy with Vector, and Runes with Babbling on Tuesdays and Fridays. And of course the extended lab section on Wednesday for Potions.”

“Which lab section?”

“Morning,” you said. The diary was levitating from your wand now, looking unassuming and very innocent under the golden light of your dorm room. “You?”

“Same,” said Lucy, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re taking N.E.W.T level Divination. Do you hate yourself?”

“It was that or History of Magic.”

She nodded emphatically, turning back to make a marking in her planner.

With the dorm settled into a comfortable silence, you brandished your wand again, peering at the diary in front of you.

There was nothing outwardly sinister about it. When you’d gone over to Ishan’s manor over Easter break last year, he’d shown you some of the (potentially unlawful) darker artifacts that his old pureblood family had in possession. They’d felt dark. This journal didn’t have that syrupy thick feel around it. Its aura felt sparkly, magnetic. Surely it couldn’t have been dark magic. Because all dark magic felt dark, right?

You gulped. You wouldn’t touch it with your bare hands anymore, you reasoned. Just spellwork and using the tip of your wand to maneuver it. Just in case.

Your 5 years of Hogwarts education had left you sorely deficient in useful diagnostic spells, so you dug around in one of your Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks from previous years and found a section on spells to examine magical objects.

Revelo you whispered, feeling the slight jolt of magic as the charm left your wand.

Nothing, It didn’t even glow blue, a sign of magically active objects.

Huh.

You frowned. The slightly more obscure spell you’d heard Snape use once on a student’s suspiciously well-written essay didn’t yield anything either.

“Whatcha doing?’

You nearly screamed, clutching your wand to your chest.

Lucy grinned wickedly as she leaned over your shoulder and reached for your journal. “Ooh, is this that thing you bought at—”

“Don’t touch!” You quickly batted her hand away.

“Sheesh,” said Lucy. “Chill. I wasn’t going to read it or anything. I was just wondering why you were waving your wand at your journal. Secrecy spells?”

“No,” you said. Your heart was racing, “Er—not quite. I actually haven’t written in it, you see,”

“Oh?” Lucy’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Explain the theatrics then?”

A half-baked lie formed at your lips that was about to spill when you stopped yourself. Lucy was your friend. She’d been your best friend since the moment you’d met on the Hogwarts Express during first year. There was no reason to lie.

“It’s so weird!” You motioned towards the diary with your wand. “I buy this, right, because I feel this weird draw to it. And I take it home and try to write in it, and suddenly the book starts writing back.”

“A self-writing journal?”

“Not quite. Maybe. Maybe not, I’m not sure. It’s just—something’s not totally right about it, but I can’t tell if it’s dangerous or not.”

Lucy gave a good natured snort. “A journal? Dangerous? And from old Linda’s stand? Please. I see her going through everything in her inventory. The poor shopboy in charge of vetting items has to answer to her if he slips up. There’s no way anything actually powerful slipped onto the stacks.”

You stuck the tip of your wand under the cover and carefully pried it open, pointing at the lettering on the inside.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” She frowned. “Am I supposed to know that name?”

“I don’t know,” you responded at the swooping lettering. “But the journal talked back like it was Tom. Like, it introduced itself as Tom and said that it was 1943. And it acted like an….I don’t know. It was like it was a real person talking to me.”

“Huh.” You could see the gears slowly turning in Lucy’s head,

“Do you know any detection or diagnostic spells?” you asked. “I tried all the ones that we’ve learned so far and it doesn’t even detect magic. But it has to be cursed, right? If the last owner of this diary got sucked into it?”

Lucy was just beginning to open her mouth when ink began to appear.

It is rather rude to be casting all sorts of spells in my direction without warning.

You jumped. “Jesus Christ. Do you see that?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Lucy, but her eyes were crinkled. “Girl. Don’t worry. If it was dangerous, you’d probably know by now. You’ve had it around you for, what, two months? And you’ve already touched it. It doesn’t feel dark. I don’t think there are any slow burning curses that gradually trap you inside an object. If you’re still alright, you’ll probably stay that way. Maybe you should just ask Tom how he got there?”

“If I start disappearing, do try to keep me in this plane.”

“Noted.”

Nervously, you dipped a quill on your desk into an inkwell, waiting for a moment before thinking up how to word your request. In the meantime, a drop of ink fell to the page. It was quickly swallowed up by the parchment.

Sorry you began. Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to trap me in there with you or something

An understandable concern

“Just ask him the bloody question,” said Lucy, hitting your shoulder. “I want to go to bed.”

“Right, right.”

If you'd like me to stop with the spells, maybe you could tell me how you ended up in here in the first place

“Nice,” said Lucy. She was nodding thoughtfully. “Very smooth.”

It took a long time for Tom’s answer to appear despite the fact that your writing had almost instantly disappeared. Finally, black ink began to rise.

It was an accident. Nothing that can be replicated by you, however. There's no need to worry. I fooled around with the wrong book in the school library.

“School library?” Lucy leaned closer so that the locks of her hair dangled over your shoulder. “Ask him if he went to Hogwarts.”

Hogwarts? You wrote quickly.

Yes.

In your sixth year?

Yes.

“Ooh.” Lucy hit your shoulder. “Maybe you can use this to get comfortable talking to boys, Y/N.”

You scoffed, blushing a hot red. “Excuse me! I’ve told you. I’m too busy for that.”

“Uh huh.” She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. “Well, I think you should just keep it. It’s harmless. Like I said, it’s from one of the tamest parts of Diagon Alley. And you wouldn’t be able to get anything genuinely dark into Hogwarts. The wards would’ve detected it. Have fun with it.”

“Have fun with it?”

Lucy shrugged, bouncing once as she settled down on her bed. “I dunno. Think about it. I think a responding diary could be fun. Let’s say I’m not around to gossip one day. You have another outlet. Or maybe you could use him to help you study or something. Really, the possibilities are endless.”

“True.” You mulled over the thought as you let your wand sit on its stand on your desk. Tentatively you grasped the soft leather of the journal and pulled it nearer to you. Tom was waiting for your response, after all.

Me too you wrote.

And you still won't tell me your name?

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to tell him my name?” you asked Lucy, whipping around.

She set down her book and shook her head. “What’s he gonna do with it? He’s stuck in there.”

Y/N.

A splotch of black appeared on the other end, but it was quickly crossed out.

How did you find me?

Antiques sale in Diagon Alley

I'm an antique?

Given that 1943 was over 50 years ago, yes

Nothing from Tom.

Is that not what you expected? You added.

I'm not sure

Just as you were about to close the journal and head to bed, Tom wrote again.

And how are you liking your time at Hogwarts?

It's nice. Fall term starts tomorrow.

You thought about leaving it there, but for some reason the words began to spill out of you.

It does feel weird being so close to graduating, though. I don’t know quite what it is that I want to do yet.

Oh? But surely you must have some idea.

You pressed the end of your quill to your lips, debating whether or not to share it with this mysterious Tom. In the end, Lucy’s previous comment was what made the scales tip. What did it matter? Tom wasn’t going to tell anyone.

I would really like to go for a cursebreaking mastery abroad, but that hinges on what happens in my N.E.W.Ts this year. I need an O in Potions.

I was taking N.E.W.T Potions at the time that I was trapped, Tom wrote. Perhaps I can be of assistance.

I can’t ask that of you.

Please do. It’s terribly boring being all alone in here.

You swallowed, watching the ink slowly sink back into nothing.

What do you mean? What’s it like being trapped?

It took a while for a response to form.

Quiet. You’re the first visitor I’ve ever had. I’m still in Hogwarts, technically, but there’s no one else here.

I’m sorry you found yourself writing before you could stop yourself. That sounds very lonely.

I don’t mind being lonely. It does get a bit dull, though.

“Luce,” you said, leaning over the back of your desk chair. “He just offered to help me with Potions.”

“See? Useful.”

I've got to go to bed now. First day of classes and whatnot.

Best of luck

Can you sleep where you are?

I don’t need to but I can

The words chilled you somewhat, but you pushed the feeling away.

Well, goodnight you wrote.

Goodnight

How were classes?

The ink appeared the moment you flipped open the journal. It was already two weeks into term, and you’d written to Tom nearly every night. You were curled up in bed, your blankets pulled heavy around your lap and your pajamas clean and smelling of lavender. A mug of tea lay steaming on your bedside table, its tendrils barely visible in the dim golden light of the candle you’d lit.

As expected you wrote, yawning. How was your day?

Oh, you know. Thrilling.

You snorted.

“What are you giggling about?” Lucy’s voice snapped you back into reality. You looked up to see her peeking over the textbook in her lap, a smirk etched deeply into her lips.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but the way you slammed the journal shut gave it away.

“Talking to your fake boyfriend, huh?” teased Lucy.

“I’m not even going to answer that.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s a fucking journal. It’s not like he’s real.”

“Didn’t he say he was trapped in there?”

You huffed. “I guess. He seems to have accepted his position in life, though. It’s not like he’s begging for help.”

“No,” agreed Lucy. “But just think about it. What if you did manage to get him out? How romantic would that be?”

“Oh my god, shut up!”

Lucy ducked away from the pillow you lobbed in her direction, cackling maniacally all the way.

There you are. I thought I’d bored you.

The words reappeared within seconds of you reopening the journal. You tried to smother the way your lips turned upwards at the sight.

Sorry you wrote back, hoping that Lucy was sufficiently distracted with her textbook and would give you a rest for the night. A friend wanted to talk.

Does this friend know about me?

You held your quill to your lips for a moment before you wrote back.

Yes. She loves to tease over how much time I spend writing to you

I take it she doesn’t understand

Quite the contrary. She’s the one who encouraged me to write to you in the first place, in fact.

How so?

Something about how it would be nice to be able to tell my secrets to someone who could never tell anyone else

Tom’s response took a bit longer to appear this time around.

Oh? Any you’d like to share now?

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at the drying ink.

You first.

For a minute, you thought that maybe Tom had disappeared. The parchment remained blank and clean. Maybe he’d gotten bored with you and had gone off to…whatever he did in his empty version of Hogwarts.

Then the lettering appeared again.

I used to have a pet snake when I was a child. I was an orphan, you see, and the other children thought that I was too strange to play with. I was terribly lonely. The matron took us to the beach once, and I found this little grass snake in the weeds. I stuck it in my pocket and took it back to the orphanage with me.

You lived in a muggle orphanage?

Yes. Obviously. Once I was amongst magicfolk, people did find me quite charming.

Why’d you pick a snake?

I liked having someone—or something, I suppose—to talk to.

You stared as the ink sunk back into nothing. Talk. Snakes. Talking?

Are you a Parselmouth?

I’ve already given a secret Tom wrote. Your turn.

Will you answer if I give you one?

That’s only fair.

Secrets—you barely had those. You’d grown up sharing nearly everything with Lucy since you’d been paired up in first year Charms class.

Not losing your nerve, are you?

I’m just thinking you quickly wrote back. I don’t have many secrets.

Surely you do.

This isn’t a very exciting secret. Heat rose to your cheeks as your quill scratched against the paper. But I haven’t told anyone this.

Go on.

I can’t tell anyone this because they’ll think I’m annoying. I do really well in classes. But I feel like I’m never going to be smart enough. It seems like nothing that I ever do will be enough to stand out

I understand more than you know

What do you mean?

I was sorted into Slytherin. Coming from such a modest background meant that I had to prove that I was worth the space I was taking up

A swell of…something rose in you as you stared down at the paper. You tried to imagine this mysterious Tom in the familiar green robes that you saw every day in Potions, scrunching his nose up over a book and studying hard. All alone—motivated by the knowledge that no one was rooting for his success—knowing that there was no name he could depend on to cover even one misstep—

You blinked. Whoa. That was some serious projection.

I can’t really tell this to anyone else. All of my friends come from influential pureblood families, so they just don’t get why I don’t get to make mistakes or slip up. They think I’m so uptight

Exactly. They all have safety nets. The grades, the house points, the prefect badges—those are all just surface level. It’s your name that gets you anywhere important

“You’re looking mighty serious over there,” said Lucy from over her textbook. “Trouble in paradise?”

You laughed tightly. “Er, no. Just talking.”

“Uh huh.”

I always feel like it’s evidence that I don’t belong when I don’t immediately understand something in class you add into the journal. To your horror, tears started pricking at your eyes. None of your friends were muggleborns. You’d never been able to voice these things out loud—or on paper, in this case. Writing it all out seemed so sad now. Like today in Runes. It took me longer than usual to understand a translation technique for this ridiculous slate from the Middle Ages. I had to talk myself down from believing that I’m faking it and that everyone else doesn’t even need to try

Is Babbling still there?

Yes. She’s still teaching

She was already too old to be coherent when she was teaching me wrote Tom. Tell me, do you have to rennervate her throughout the lesson to keep her present?

She was old back then???

Ancient.

I can’t believe she’s still alive. You chewed on your lip as you thought. She’s practically a fossil.

Do you think of me like that? Old?

Would it make you feel better if I said I considered you vintage?

I’m wounded

“Fucking get to the library and start researching ways to pull that poor boy out of there,” said Lucy from her bed, “Or stop giggling like that. Merlin. You’re killing me. You’re practically twirling your hair.”

“Shut up!” Slowly, you opened the journal back up after slamming it closed.

Your friend again?

Yes you scribbled back. She’s teasing me again about how I should try to get you out of here. Which I’m assuming is impossible, since I’m doubtful you’re even a real person

I’m very real

Your blood cooled.

Then why haven’t you asked me to get you out?

A pause—just long enough for you to feel suspicious.

I’ve gotten quite used to my little home in here wrote Tom finally. And forgive me if I believe it a bit forward to immediately demand the first person to which I speak to orchestrate my extraction.

Extraction. Interesting word choice, you thought.

How polite. Part of you was beginning to feel the slightest bit uneasy. And what would this so-called extraction entail?

That I haven’t quite figured out yet. The response was instantaneous. Ever since we’ve met I’ve been returning to the library in hopes of finding an answer.

Which book trapped you in here?

Another pause.

I sincerely doubt it’s still in print wrote Tom. It was a very dangerous book with dark, terrible magic. I had no business digging around in it. I paid the price dearly.

He refused to elaborate.

You spent the entire weekend digging through the Restricted Section, paging through every book you could imagine that had anything to do with Tom’s situation.

Nothing. Nada. Zero. You tried every querying spell you could think of. You were desperate enough to recruit Madam Pince by telling her that you were writing a paper for a class and needed to find anything there was on getting yourself trapped in magical objects. What she did dig up was at best irrelevant—tales of ill-executed Animagi rituals that resulted in the wizard getting stuck in their animal form and reports of interactions with cursed objects sending the users into a different dimension, never to be heard from again.

But as you were leaving the library on Sunday night, feeling downtrodden and profoundly disappointed, you saw something that caught your eye: the Alumni section.

It was one of those things that you always passed by without another thought. No classwork required students to reference previous Hogwarts attendees. It existed largely to appease the old families by nodding to their longstanding presence in Hogwarts, and the only friends who you had ever seen in this part of the library were purebloods curious about their ancestry. As a muggleborn, this was predictably unrelatable. There’d been no person of interest waiting for you in the old, dusty books that were shoved neatly into chronological order, no long-lost ancestor or namesake.

Not until now.

The click of your oxfords against the dark hardwood echoed as you came to a stop in front of the stacks. Every yearbook was the color of that school year’s House Cup winner, and the one with 1943-1944 on the thin spine was a rich, loud red. It slid easily from the shelf—which was a relief, because occasionally older books required permission to handle and were thus unremovable—and settled gently in your hands.

For a second you pondered leaving the aisle and finding a table to crack it open and savor the moment, but the thought of having to explain why you were looking at the 1943 class yearbook would be embarrassing. Doubly so if Lucy found you—she’d never let you hear the end of it. So, case closed. You’d open it here.

Oh god. You swallowed and used the cuff of your free sleeve to wipe the bead of sweat that had formed on your forehead. This was a terrible idea—or was it? Maybe he wouldn’t be your type. Yes, maybe he’d look just like someone who annoyed you in class or he’d have poorly kept hair or he’d have a creepy smile. Then you could stop thinking about—that.

And that shouldn’t even matter! You squeezed your eyes shut to dispel the thought. It was all Lucy’s fault for teasing you so much about him being your sort-of-weird-ghost boyfriend—part of you was starting to pretend like that was real. And it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It didn’t matter that no boy before had managed to make you this excited to talk to them. It didn’t matter that he got you like no one else in this castle seemed to. It didn’t, because as of present he was actually a journal and not a corporeal being.

In short, you reminded yourself harshly, you were checking this yearbook to verify that a Tom Marvolo Riddle did in fact exist and attended Hogwarts during the time period he claimed. That was it—nothing more.

Nervously, you let the cover flip open and began to card through the thick pages. Moving pictures of entirely unfamiliar students greeted you, flashing past your eyes. First years, second years, third years, fourth years…

You paused before turning from the fifth year page to the sixth, overwhelmed with the thought that whatever you saw was going to change the way you saw your interactions with the diary. If he wasn’t there, you’d need to re-evaluate how safe this whole diary scenario was. You’d need to go back and reconsider if anything you’d heard from him was ever the actual truth. And if he was…

You swallowed. You couldn’t pretend like you hadn’t been imagining what he’d look like on nights that you struggled to fall asleep. There was never a face you could settle on. Whenever you’d spin up something in your mind’s eye, the features would shift and morph into something entirely different before you could enjoy it.

But it didn’t matter—it couldn’t matter, because it was crazy that you’d even been fantasizing about a potentially make-believe boy who only existed in a worn diary.

You turned the page, and Tom Marvolo Riddle stared right back at you.

Tom looked every bit of what you’d expect a Slytherin prefect to be like. Everything about him was neat, orderly, and intentional, from the tidy robes to the obediently shaped dark waves atop his head that looked tragically soft. The only thing out of place was a single piece of black hair, dangling temptingly in the middle of his forehead.

His lips were drawn into a polite almost smile, his image almost entirely still save for the slight bob of his throat that repeated as the image replayed, over and over again.

Tom was pretty—much prettier than you ever could’ve thought up on your own. He looked unreal, like he’d been sculpted by some higher being’s hand with the express purpose of being devastatingly ethereal.

And he’d been talking to you. Connecting with you. And he was real. The weight of your satchel over your shoulder reminded you that he was right there. All it’d take was a quill and some ink to speak to him again.

The picture had repeated its loop one final time before you closed the book shut and pushed it back onto the shelf, hearing the pounding of your heart the whole way.

When you wrote to him that night, you tried your best to keep yourself imagining how he’d look writing back. Would he smile when he saw that you’d opened the journal? Would he laugh at your (admittedly stupid) jokes?

September turned into October which tilted into November with such speed that you could barely breathe. Time barreled ahead as classes sped up, assignments piled on, and each day became just another challenge to survive.

Tom remained one of the few constants in your life, alongside Lucy and Ishan. It was concerning how much you’d come to confide in him, telling him things that you’d never dare to share with anyone else. You told him about the little accomplishments that you could never bring up to your friends, like Professor Snape insulting everyone’s potion except yours and what McGonagall wrote on your most recent paper, calling it one of the most well-researched essays she’d gotten from a N.E.W.T level student. You even told him how Lucy occasionally got on your nerves and how it made you feel like a bad friend.

He was a good listener and an even better conversationalist. When he wasn’t being your confidant, he was more than happy to indulge any academic topics of interest. You spent hours going back and forth, debating the content of the news headlines that you’d tell him about each day.

With time, the memory of Tom’s face and intimidatingly good looks faded to the back of your mind. You’d barred yourself from going back into the Alumni section in the library lest you felt inspired to crack open his yearbook again and remind yourself just how attractive your imaginary friend had been when he’d been alive. If you did that, then you’d start fantasizing about a future where you invented some sort of way to pull him out, and that was just silly. You had exams, and Tom didn’t seem particularly rushed in leaving his journal—or he’d at least come to accept that he’d never leave.

Despite this new normality you’d built around the strangeness of the journal, some things still felt tense. You’d grown comfortable with Tom—arguably more comfortable with him than nearly anyone else, save for maybe Lucy, since you couldn’t ever imagine opening up the journal and telling him all about the fact that it was your time of the month and detailing exactly how your cramps were making you feel—but there was this underlying sense of anticipation. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. You just knew that things couldn’t be like this forever. Something had to give.

In the end, it was Professor Snape who started it. He’d looked down at your cauldron and said something about how your Draught of Living Death base was the most elementary thing he’d ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon and that you were lucky to even be allowed into the class, and something inside you broke.

You’d tried so hard on that potion. You’d followed the instructions to a T. You’d diced everything evenly and stirred it with the precision of a muggle performing brain surgery. Potions had never been your best subject, and you tried to make up for it by trying harder than everyone else. Normally it worked, but N.E.W.T potions was something else.

Tom was taking longer than usual to respond to this particular soliloquy that night, a few letters surfacing before he scribbled them out.

I know this might seem scary he finally wrote. I’ll understand if this frightens you too much. But I think that I may be able to help.

What do you mean, scary? Are you a mean tutor or something?

I mean that I can show you how to brew that Draught Tom replied.

Show me?

If my research is correct, it’s possible that I can temporarily cross you over into my world.

Your heart thudded, your hands suddenly clammy.

“Lucy?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Lucy tossed her book onto her desk and turned to face you. “Oh no. Did something happen? You look awful.”

“Gee. Thanks.” You swallowed. “Er—sort of? I was writing to Tom about how crazy Potions class was today and he told me that he could help me. Like actually tutor me.”

“Is that not a good thing?”

Your mouth was dry. “No. That’s not it. He means like, tutor me tutor me. In person. He says he can cross me over into his world temporarily.”

Lucy froze.

“I have to say no, right?” It was so, so stupid that you were asking that. Of course you had to say no. There was no telling what he could do to you if you said yes. Maybe he was actually a demon that was attempting to possess you. Maybe he was going to eat your soul and use your body as a husk to feed on the other students and—

“I mean, probably not.” She thoughtfully pressed the top of her quill to her mouth. “Think about it. You guys have been in contact for months and nothing supernatural has happened. We already came to the conclusion that the journal isn’t dark magic because the wards would’ve kept it out.”

“But what if I get stuck with him? I haven’t been able to find anything about this type of magic before. I don’t know how it works.”

Lucy hummed. Then realization flickered across her features. “Hang on. I think I have something that might help.”

She dug around in one of her desk drawers until she produced a small spool of half-used thread. It was golden in color but so thin it was nearly iridescent.

“What’s that?” you asked, squinting at it.

“It’s Invisible String,” said Lucy, already rolling it out and pulling it around your wrist. It was pleasantly warm against your skin, like it’d just been sitting out in the sun. As soon as it made contact with your body, it disappeared. “It used to be used for Ministry Employees who used Time Turners. Whoever is on the other end of the thread is able to pull the wearer back to this reality and this timeline. It’s very useful in avoiding nasty time related incidents. My dad took home a bunch of spools when Time Turners were officially outlawed. He taught me how to apparate with them since it can also work over long distances in the same reality—just in case I did something stupid.”

“Wow,” you breathed, staring down at your wrist. There was nothing to stare at, of course. It was already gone. But it was an ingenious little contraption, probably charmed so many times with such obscure and rare spells that it would go for thousands of galleons if you tried to buy it yourself.

The perks of having a rich pureblood best friend, you supposed.

“As long as I’m holding the other end, I’ll be able to bring you back,” explained Lucy, holding the spool up demonstratively. “So, go for it. If that’s your only hold-up, I think you should go meet him. If anything, at least it’ll help your Potions grade.”

You turned your attention back to the journal, worrying your lip for a second before you dipped your quill in the inkwell and wrote out Ok.

“This is so exciting,” said Lucy from over your shoulder. “You have to tell me everything when you get back.”

“If I can come back.”

She dangled the spool in front of you. “I’ll make sure of that. If you’re not back by curfew, I’ll yank you back to this reality by myself.”

“Right.” Anxiety began to build in your middle, bubbling up until you were sure you were trembling.

This might feel a bit uncomfortable was all Tom wrote before you were suddenly falling into a void.

When the inertia faded and light slowly bled back into your vision, you were sprawled on the floor of a Potions classroom that you’d been in when you were a second year. Tom Riddle stood tidily a few feet away from you, wearing the same formal school robes you’d seen on him in the yearbook.

“Hello.” His voice was proper and measured. It fit him perfectly, but the fact that you were finally hearing him speak for the first time made you feel something that was highly inadvisable.

“Hi.”

For a moment, you just stared right back into his eyes as the silence closed in around you and the gravity of your situation sunk in. You’d really done it now, hadn’t you? As if to comfort you, the thread around your wrist warmed against your skin.

“Don’t worry,” said Tom, like he could already tell what you were thinking.“You won’t be trapped. It’s me who’s bound to this world.”

“And how are you so sure of that?”

“This is a prison for my soul,” he said casually. “Not yours. You have nothing keeping you here.”

“Right.” You slowly made your way from the ground to your feet, brushing off your robes and casting a few cleansing charms to dispel the dust clinging to you. At least your magic seemed to work fine here, you noted. It was a small comfort to know that you’d be able to defend yourself if shit went left.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.” Now that he was speaking more, you couldn’t help but admire the way he sounded—silken and smooth and entirely unbothered, like he did this every day. “I was sure that I’d scared you off.”

“You underestimate how much I want that Potions O,” you offered.

“Never,” he said dryly. “Now that I see that you’re a Ravenclaw, I wouldn’t endeavor to make such ill-informed assumptions.”

You blanched, your head whipping down to take in what you were wearing. You weren’t sure why you were so shocked to see that you were wearing exactly what you’d had on moments ago at your desk—a midnight blue jumper with the Ravenclaw emblem stitched into the left breast, pulled on top of the white button up with the bronze and blue tie tucked underneath. That, and the standard-issue Hogwarts skirt and tights. Hardly dungeon attire—if you didn’t start brewing something soon, you’d be shivering.

It all looked very silly compared to how many layers Tom was wearing. His prefect pin glinted under the dim lighting of the Potions classroom, and you tried your best to keep your heart from swooning.

“Did I not tell you that I was a Ravenclaw?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “I don’t believe so. I would’ve remembered.”

“Are you surprised?”

He cast his dark eyes up to the ceiling and scrunched his nose in a way that you thought was meant to convey a serious bout of thinking. “Not quite. I was stuck between that and Slytherin.”

“Slytherin?” You couldn’t stop the way you grimaced at this.

“I thought we had enough in common for it to be plausible.”

A thrill shot through you. “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“I suppose I can't be too taken aback,” he said mildly, stepping neatly back and conjuring a cauldron to appear on the tabletop to his right. “You are a muggleborn. I don’t know of any who have been sorted into Slytherin.”

This wasn’t news to you, but Tom’s delivery stung more than usual. The implication hung heavy in the air that you were somehow in the inferior house, only placed in Ravenclaw because of your blood. As an afterthought—as a convenient place for you to be put away.

“That’s true,” you said, stepping closer until only the brewing table was in between you two. “But I doubt that I’d have been sorted there, even if I had been born a pureblood. The whole glutton-for-knowledge thing about Ravenclaw has always been me.”

“I disagree.” Tom summoned over a few jars of ingredients with a nonverbal wave of his wand. “If you’d been born with purer blood, you wouldn’t be so desperate to find a way to compensate.”

You flinched. Ouch.

“I’m very aware of why I feel the need to work so hard,” you snipped. “But I really don’t think that has anything to do with my genuine academic curiosity. If I was so single-minded in using knowledge for compensation then perhaps I would have been a Slytherin.”

For a moment, his dark eyes flashed with something that you couldn’t quite catch before his face ironed itself into something impassive once more. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to offend.”

You frowned, watching as he placed familiar ingredients on the table and began lining them up. “It’s fine. Just a bit of a sore spot, that’s all.”

He gave you a look that made you feel like you’d just pointed out the obvious. Which you had, clearly. But it was offensive regardless.

“I’ve assembled all the ingredients for a Draught of Living Death,” he announced, stepping back from the table and waving one pale hand at the spread in front of you. “You said you had trouble with brewing the base. This makes sense, since more complicated potions require more stable bases. I’m not wrong in assuming that you’ve always been adept at following instructions and brewing perfect potions before this year?”

He waited for your nod to continue.

“N.E.W.T Potions is different in that it challenges your intuition. Before this, you’ve been able to coast by relying on the guidance of others. But with potions like the Living Death, you need to be able to think on your feet. Even the slightest variation in your ingredients—the age, the quality, the place of origin—can be what ruins an otherwise perfectly good brew. Every potions recipe you see in school textbooks makes implicit assumptions about the quality and age of your ingredients. If, say, it’s an unusually hot day when a supply shipment arrives and the gillyweed oxidizes, the instructions for a more difficult potion won’t anticipate that you need to temper it with volcanic salt.

“That’s where you come in. When you’re preparing your base, you need to have an intimate understanding of the properties of each ingredient and how they interact with each other. This way, when you notice something isn’t quite average with your supplies—as is common in a school where ingredients are shipped in bulk—you can adjust.”

Tom paused, his eyes meeting yours. You blinked once, then broke the contact to look at the cauldron.

No one had ever explained that to you before. No one had ever taken the time. Snape certainly hadn’t been interested in lecturing about why so many students were incapable of producing viable potions—he was far more content with insulting his pupils for being inadequate.

“I never knew that,” you admitted, finally looking back at him. He hadn’t moved an inch. “That makes so much sense.”

Though your words were far from creative, honesty dripped from your voice.

“Right then,” said Tom, nodding tightly and stepping back to gesture to the ingredients. “Try to prepare the base again. This time pay attention to the state of the ingredients.”

You got the work, thinly dicing the beetroot while you set the moon water to simmer in the cauldron.

“This was bruised,” you noted, motioning to the cubes you’d just cut.

Tom nodded, looking at you rather expectantly.

“...which means that part of it has already oxidized,” you continued cautiously. In truth, you hadn’t spent much time learning about the different chemical properties of the ingredients. That felt too concretely muggle, too blatantly biological. “Which means that the enzymes have, uh, had their bonds ruptured?”

“And…?”

“And that means I need to…” You squinted down at the vegetable, trying to conjure up any knowledge you had about enzymes and potion making. It probably wouldn’t be volcanic salt. Would it? “I don’t think that I can use volcanic salt as a binding agent this time. If my memory serves correctly, moon water becomes unstable in the presence of pure minerals. So that means…acid? Lemon?”

Tom slid a vial over to you, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Mix a little into the beetroot before adding it.”

You uncorked it and let the citrus juice sink into the purple cubes, running slightly down the cutting board and pooling in the wooden crevices.

The rest of your base preparation went just as smoothly, with Tom offering up the odd helpful comment while you nodded and committed it to memory.

You finished with a base that looked nothing like the disaster you’d created just hours ago. You were just barely able to keep yourself from grinning and throwing your arms around Tom’s neck as you both began to clean up and vanish the contents of the cauldron.

“Well done,” said Tom, spelling the cutting board clean. The vibrant pink marks from the beetroot vanished. “Consider me impressed.”

You nearly exploded with giddiness.

“Thank you,” you said very normally. He was standing so close to you now that if you reached out, your fingers would skim his robe-clad arm. But you wouldn’t do that, because that was weird. Because he was living in a journal and he was somehow bound to this strange alternative reality. Because you weren’t even sure if it was possible to touch him. Because even if it was, Tom Riddle did not seem like the type of person who would be partial to physical affection—especially not from someone like you. “Do you—have you found anything out about how you can escape?”

Tom’s fluid motions as he tidied the table only stuttered for a moment. “Some. Nothing concrete, though.”

“If you told me exactly what it was you did to get stuck in here, I’d probably be able to offer a lot more help,” you pointed out in a way that you hoped didn’t sound too cajoling.

He didn’t say anything.

“Come on,” you pressed, putting your hands on your hips. “I’ve aired out all my dirty laundry to you. You can tell me. I don’t think there’s anything you could say that I haven’t already guessed.”

“Really?” drawled Tom, his eyes locking on yours. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” you affirmed.

“So why don’t you tell me what happened?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Men could be so frightfully dull sometimes.

“There’s a book,” said Tom with a deceptive casualness, “That should be in the Restricted section. It’s called ‘Secrets of the Darkest Arts.’ Read that. If you’d still like to know afterwards, I’ll oblige.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.”

The work table was all cleaned up, no trace of your previous potion brewing except for the lingering scent in the air.

“Well,” said Tom. His hands were folded neatly behind his back as he remained a respectable distance away from you. “I suppose I should be sending you back.”

“I suppose,” you echoed. “Will I—do you think I’ll get to see you again?”

You regretted it the moment the words left your mouth. Hopefully the blush on your face could be written off by the excuse that you were just brewing.

This time when he looked at you, it felt like he was re-evaluating something. “Whenever you’d like. I’m not especially occupied.”

Before you could stop yourself, your face was splitting into a bright smile. “Of course. I was definitely asking because of your busy schedule.”

He blinked twice. Then he opened his mouth, closed it, and fidgeted with his tie. It was the most obvious sign of discomfort you’d seen from him the entire evening.

“Right,” he said stiffly. “Ehm—yes. It was pleasant to have you here.”

“Pleasant?” you echoed, your eyebrows raised.

“I mean that I’ve enjoyed the time that we’ve spent in correspondence,” he said, waving a hand like that made what he said any less awkward.

“Tom, I was teasing you,” you said. “I don’t need some sort of confession about how you can actually stand being around me. I can tell.”

“Right,” he said again. “I’ll send you back now.”

Before you could add another remark about how weird he was being, you were catapulted out of the dungeons and back into your desk chair.

“Merlin’s Beard!” gasped Lucy from behind you.

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to the bright lighting of your dorm.

“You literally came out of nowhere!” said Lucy, coming around to put her hands on your desk and stare at you. “I was getting worried, too. Padma is coming back soon. I thought that I’d have to devise some sort of plan to keep her out of the room so she wouldn’t ask why you materialized out of thin air.”

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes unfocused.

“So what happened?”

“I—” You exhaled. “Lucy, I’m so fucked. He’s actually really cute.”

“I knew it,” said Lucy, shaking your shoulders.

“He helped me brew the base for the Draught of Living Death,” you elaborated. “He’s a really good tutor. He spoke for like 5 minutes about the properties of different ingredients, and I swear I’ve learned more from him than from 6 years of Snape’s lectures.”

“And did you guys talk?”

“A little.” You frowned, thinking back on the interactions you’d had. “He was really odd when I asked him about what I needed to do to get him out. Even weirder when I asked if I was going to see him again. He made some comment about how he wasn’t exactly busy and I said something that implied that I knew that but wanted to know if he liked seeing me, and he was super awkward.”

Lucy cringed. “Well, I mean, if I’d been stuck in a diary for 50 years without talking to someone, I’d probably be a little strange too. Tell me how he is when he talks—or writes, I guess—to you next.”

The next time Tom responded to a diary entry, you had news.

Tom you wrote. Are you there?

Yes.

Can you bring me back to you?

Why? Do you need another Potions lesson?

You rolled your eyes. Not quite.

Well, no. I won’t let you back until you’ve read the book I told you about.

That’s why I’m asking! I’ve tried looking for it everywhere. When none of the querying spells worked, I went through the entire Restricted Section by hand. Nothing! I asked Madam Pince and she told me that that book had been banned since before she’d gotten the position as librarian. I’m probably on some watch list now

That is troubling.

So if you’ll be so kind, please let me back in so I can use your library. Thank you in advance

There was a long pause that you imagined Tom took to sigh and run his fingers through his hair in exasperation. Then:

Very well.

You were falling through space once again.

final a/n: thank you for reading! let me know how you feel about it! this is my first time writing for tom so im kind of nervous or whatever

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine

826 notes · View notes

silentglassbreak · 9 months ago

Note

delulu fan fantasy, not even my delulu.. just looking over bad omens photos and home country thoughts lol

Any name, any description lol but the boys never guy koala shots when they were in Australia last time.. soo so a scenario where they return an it involves some sort of trip to an animal rescue of some kind? OR some thing... and Noah having to lean down so the handler can help him DE-CLING the koala from his arms and shoulder, their claws can get you, the guys all joking about his new girlfriend maybe... but he'd rather the handler... -- up to you if you go on to make it smutty after the cute meet, maybe invite for drinks.. OR just an intense flirt... but...

Yep... koala flirting delulu lol, sorry, for, the ramble.

Fully understand if this is a no can do, I know specific place requests can be difficult, but I thought there was no harm in asking, thank you for reading just the same.

The amount of research I just did on Koalas is wild 🤣 I’m hoping this does your ask some justice!

After Writing Notes: This was cute, and fun to write. It's shorter than some of my others, and truly just fluffy, early stages, flirtations. I enjoyed this! I hope you do too!

Rating: Mature (language)

Warnings: Nuffin but good ol' fashioned fluff.

Please Please Please

“Now, let’s see if the little man likes you or not, shall we?”

Mira, our veteran Koala, who was used to our regular visitation schedule was lazily clung to my shirt, as she was most days. Her jaws crunched on a Eucalyptus leaf, not minding all of the sweet attention she was getting. The bright-eyed boy standing in front of me beamed at her, but I could tell he was nervous.

“Alright, now we’re going to just gently place her on your chest, and if she likes you, she’ll cling!” I carefully handed Mira over to the boy, no older than twelve, who shakily held her up. Mira’s claws grabbed onto his shirt, and she tucked her head into his neck lovingly.

She truly was a great performer.

“Oh my God, she’s holding me!” He exclaimed, excited, but still hushed as not to startle her.

“Look at that, mate! She’s very loving, isn’t she?” I held up another leaf in front of her, one of her small hands latching on and holding it up to her mouth.

The mother of the young boy looked absolutely horrified. “How long does he hold her for?”

“Ah, just a minute or two. I’ve got a few other folks waiting to get to say hello.” I stuffed my hands in my pants pockets, smiling while watching Mira tickle the young man’s neck with her ear hairs.

“Are all Koalas this friendly?” He asked as his hand gently stroked the plush hair on her back.

“Actually, no. Koalas can be quite territorial, especially around their young. They bite and scratch just like any other beast you’d come across.” I could see his mom beginning to sweat. “Mira here is very accustomed to human beings. She’s one of our rehabilitated patients who was not eligible for release.”

“Why not?” The worrisome woman eyed me.

“Poor thing got caught in the wildfires a few years ago, and she’s almost completely blind now due to the smoke. She’d never survive in the wild.” I placed a hand on her head, smiling sweetly at her. “So, instead, she’s our designated education Koala!”

The boy smiled, and moved toward me to begin removing her from his chest. “I think she’s amazing.”

“That, she is.” I graciously took my girl, and turned to place her back on her tree. I could tell she was in need of a bit of a break.

Noticing more patrons had not arrived quite yet for their experiences, I closed the door behind my guests of the enclosure, and set up a ‘Be Back in 30’ sign.

Once in the break room, I sat at the table, running fingers through my hair that was tangled where it ended on the back of my neck. Kylie, who had been working the python exhibit all morning, came bounding in, sitting next to me heavily.

“Eh, Charlie. You alright?”

I was chewing the end of a peanut butter sandwich and zoning out, trying not to let my mind wander too far.

“Good here. You?”

She smiled empathetically. “That’s not convincing, babe. Still thinking about him?”

Shrugging hard, I set my sandwich back down and put my face in my palms. “Why would he ghost me?” I sighed, feeling defeated. “I really thought we were getting on, ya know?”

Placing a hand on my back, she smiled sweetly at me. “I’m sure you were! Some guys are just fucking useless! He probably did you a favor, really.”

I laid my chin down on my hands on the table. “Maybe. It still blows. I feel like dating is just pointless these days.”

Kylie laughed at that. “Nah, not true.” Sitting back in her chair, she reached to interlock her hands behind her head. “Remember that Roy guy I went out with a few weeks back?” I just nodded. “Best lay I’ve had, hands down.”

My eyes blew out wide before my stomach began rolling with laughter. She joined me, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t give up on dating, babe. There’s a guy out there for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, not likely.”

The day was passing so slow, it almost made my eyes roll back. By the time my watch told me it was close to the end, only half hour till, I was exhausted. So was Mira. My eyes scanned the passers by, wondering how many I’d be able to fit in before the end of the day, as I saw a group of guys reading the information plaque on the glass just outside.

One of the guys, a lanky boy with tattoos shadowing the length of his arms, was the only one of them looking into the exhibit, instead of at the description. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say he was looking at me.

That couldn’t be right, though. I was holding Mira, so he was probably looking at her.

“Excuse me?” One of them had broken off from the pack and stepped inside the door. “It says on there to come in to see the Koalas?”

He was a shorter gentleman with long, black hair tied back in a bun on the back of his head. I noticed his accent, and internally groaned. Americans.

“Yeah!” I smiled at him brightly. “Come on in!”

He motioned for his friends, the other three trailing behind. The last one to come in was the tall guy with hair only slightly shorter than mine. His eyes wandered around the trees and the pond behind me.

“Oh my gosh!” The shortest one was grinning ear to ear, staring directly at Mira. “They’re so cute!”

I looked down at the gray baby on my chest, and pet her lovingly. “They are. They’re my favorite creatures here at the preserve.”

“Do they bite?” A taller man, who had a slightly different accent that I couldn’t place, asked.

“They sure can.” I nodded, and waved a hand. “But Mira here never has. She’s an absolute gem.”

Looking between them all, I noticed they were all wearing various band t-shirts, with the exception of our large friend, who only wore a black beater. He stood the most reserved, hands in his pockets.

“Anyone want to hold her?”

“Serious?!” The shortest bloke perked up first, stepping toward me cautiously. “Can I, please?”

I chuckled. “Of course! I’ll hand her to you,” I began peeling Mira from me. “and if she latches, she likes you!”

Almost vibrating with excitement, the man took her gently, and Mira wrapped her short arms around his neck, seeming to take to him exceptionally.

“Excellent!” I clapped. “You’re a natural!”

He smiled brightly at his friends. “Check it out, guys!” They all took turns looking at Mira up close, a couple reaching out to touch her head.

“You want a photo?” I asked and the tallest one nodded, slipping a cell out of his pocket and handing it to me.

The four boys posed, all smiling and wrapping arms around each other.

“Alright, one…two…three.” I snapped a picture, but noticed a couple of them blinking. I pursed my lips. “Let me get a few, alright?”

They nodded and held their spots. As I was preparing to snap another, I saw a look of panic flash over the boy holding Mira.

“She’s letting go! I don’t want to drop her!”

“Oh!” Instinctively, I slipped the mobile into my vest pocket and reached out to grab Mira.

For whatever reason, she had become startled, and wanted out of the grip. It had been a long day, and she was likely over all of the attention. When I pulled her from the guy’s arms, her nails scratched across the side of his neck.

“Ouch!” He exclaimed, holding a hand up. All of his friends were looking at him.

“I’m so sorry about that, mate! It’s been quite the day for our girl here.” He moved his hand and was bleeding ever so slightly.

Seemingly rebounded, he shook his head and grinned at me. “No, I totally get it. I appreciate her letting me hold her at all.”

I set Mira on her tree, plucking her a leaf and handing it to her before turning back to the bunch. “There’s a med room on your way out the exit. They can give you a swab to clean that with.” I smiled apologetically at them.

“Thanks again…Charlie?” The boy checked my name tag. I nodded. He stuck his hand out for me to shake. “I’m Nick.”

I nodded. “Pleasure to meet you guys.”

They filed out one by one, giving small waves. The tall boy’s eyes carried mine just a little longer than the rest, and it gave me a warm feeling in my stomach.

What a cutie.

“So how’d the rest of the day go, Char?”

Unpinning my tag and putting it in my locker, I nodded before sitting down to slip my runners off.

“Not terrible. Mira scratched someone, though.”

She frowned. “Oh no. Are they alright?”

Sighing, I began unbuttoning my vest. “Yeah, he was just happy to get to see her. Group of American guys.”

When I shrugged off my best, I noticed it felt heavy, which was odd. Slipping my fingers in the pockets, I felt the flat, cool screen, and let my head fall back.

“Fuck.”

“What’s that?” Kylie had turned her head to look at me.

“I snatched one of their phones on accident. Shit.”

She giggled. “Well, damn. Did you catch his name?”

I shook my head. “No. Just his friend who got hurt, and not even a last name.”

“Mm, better put it in lost and found then.”

I stood, reaching to set down the phone. Before I could, it began vibrating in my hand, and I turned it over. The face of the boy I had interacted with earlier popped on the screen with the name ‘Folio’ on it.

I bit my lip, and Kylie noticed. “Going to answer it?”

“Should I?”

She just gestured toward me in a ‘duh’ fashion.

I swiped open the call, and put it up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“So, you have my phone.” A smooth, baritone voice came through the speaker.

I smiled, sitting on the bench behind me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about it.”

There was a soft chuckle on the other end. “No problem. Can I come get it?”

I looked up at Kylie, who was watching me expectedly. “Well, the preserve is closed for the night. I can leave it at the lost and found and you can grab it in the morning?”

“Hmm,” I heard him thinking. “I kind of can’t wait that long to get it back. Plus, I fly out in the morning.”

“Ah,” I sighed. “well, are you staying nearby? I can probably drop it off on my way home.”

“Well, the guys and I are going to Faldry’s for dinner. Could you meet me there?”

“Sure, that’s on my way.”

I heard a sigh of relief. “I really appreciate it, uh,” There was a beat of silence. “what was your name, again?”

I smiled. “Charlie.”

“That’s right.” I swore I could hear a smile in his voice. “I’m Noah.”

“Alright Noah, I can be there in half?”

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

The drive to the restaurant was quick, and for some reason, I felt nervous? I guess that made sense, given it was embarrassing that I managed to take this random stranger’s phone without even trying. I had a great gift for being an absolute moron. The parking lot was relatively full, so I pulled into a space toward the back. Unsure of how to let him know how I was here, I walked into the building, taking a breath and glancing around the room for the person I was trying to find.

The host approached the stand, flashing his teeth at me. "Evening. Do you have a reservation?"

Gripping the strap of my bag, I let my face fall. "Uh, no," My head whipped around more, still no luck in finding the party. "I'm here to see someone?"

He nodded tapping his computer screen. "Name?"

I closed my eyes, realizing I didn't know his surname. "Noah..." My stare pleaded with him. "He's uh, tall? Dark hair? Tattooed?"

He stared at me, clearly not following.

"He's American? With a group?"

This seemed to spark his memory, a flash of recognition crossing his features.

"Ah, I know who you mean. They're toward the back, table sixteen."

Smiling apologetically, I moved around the booth toward the other side of the dining room. Once I rounded the corner around the bar, I could see the table, more people than I recognized sitting around it.

Noah was sat, ball cap on his head, laughing at something with everyone else at the table. My chest stuttered for a moment. Now, instead of a casual tank top, he wore a plain white t-shirt. His hair peaked out from under his hat. Most noticeable was his smile, so bright and stunning. I hadn't had the chance to catch that earlier...

I gripped the phone in my hand, and swallowed before making my way over to the table. The boy I had spoken with earlier in the day - Nick - noticed me first.

"Hey!" All eyes lifted to me, and I felt more nervous than I had previously.

I gave a small wave, tucking some of my hair behind my ear. "Hello, everyone."

Noah stood, walking around the table. I handed him the phone, and he smirked at me. "Thank you so much for bringing this. I can't tell you how screwed I would've been if you hadn't."

I nodded, feeling so small stood next to him. "Of course. It was my fault, anyway."

His hand dismissed me. "It happens."

A strange, awkward silence fell over us, so I turned to the rest of the group, giving a timid grin. "Well, I'll be off, then."

"Wait," I felt fingers grab my forearm, gently pulling my attention. I looked up at Noah again, his face soft. "can I maybe," He glanced back at his friends for...something? Approval, maybe? "buy you a drink or something?"

I was caught off guard, and my face must've shown it, because his hand fell from my arm.

"Oh, uh," My eyes bounced off of the other faces at the table, who were still mostly looking right at me. "I shouldn't. I don't want to intrude."

He shook his head. "You're not! I want to do something to thank you for this." He held his phone up for reference.

I smiled, finding it exceptionally difficult to turn him down. "I mean, I suppose I could go for a cold one."

Something pulled the corners of his lips up at me.

"Great!" He turned back to his mates. "I'll be back?"

They all nodded, Nick giving him a brotherly slap on the arm. He lead me over to the bar, and pulled a stool out for me before taking the one to my right.

The bartender took our order, both of us settling on some ale before he turned his face to look at me.

"So," The drinks were placed in front of us, and I took a pull from my pint. "you like animals, huh?"

This made me laugh. What a generic conversation starter. He didn't have a lot to go on, and it was funny.

"I do. Always have."

He took a drink, and set his glass down hard on the bar. "That's really cool."

He was trying, but that topic could only get us so far.

"Do you?" I decided to venture.

"As much as the next person, I guess? I have a dog at home."

I smiled, wiping my upper lip on the napkin under my glass. "Back in the States?"

He nodded. "In California."

"Ah, what's that like?"

"You've never been over there?"

I shook my head, swallowing my beer. "Never been across the pond. Only time I left Straya was when my family would go to New Zealand on vacation. It's been a long time, though."

"New Zealand? Wow, that sounds amazing."

"It really is. It's beautiful there. And safe."

He took a big gulp of his beer, and began folding his own napkin over itself. "Well, California isn't." He said with a laugh.

I quirked an eyebrow. "I've heard." I turned my body to look at him better, studying the tattoos on his skin. "So what brings you here?"

He smiled to himself then, chewing on his thumbnail. "We had a concert."

"A concert? You flew all this way to see a band?"

He finished his drink, and signaled to the barkeep for another. "We are the band."

This made me pause. That made sense, now didn't it?

"Oh. Very nice!" The bartender brought us two fresh drinks. "What kind of music?"

"Rock music. Metal-ish?"

"What do you call yourselves?"

He smirked, staring at me from his peripherals. "Bad Omens."

"Hmm," I took a drink of my fresh beer. "that's interesting."

He snickered. "Interesting? How do you mean?"

"Sounds kind of dark."

"That's the point, honestly."

I traced the rim of the glass with my index finger, looking at him as he spoke. His lips were so pretty. And his eyes were so dark that they were almost enticing.

"I see." I finally looked away from him, down at the bubbles in my drink. "So, how do you like it here?"

He leaned forward, pressing his elbows onto the bar. "It's not my first time. It's been a while, though. I like it."

"But...?" I could tell he wasn't sold.

His cheeks tinted. "It's really hot. And the spiders are fucking crazy."

This caused a deep belly laugh to pull out of me. "That's too funny."

"Why is that funny?" He cackled with me, and I wiped a tear from my eyes.

"Ah, I don't know. A big tough guy like you being afraid of spiders? It's just funny."

He looked at me curiously. "Hey, I'm not afraid of them. I just prefer not to find giant ones in my hotel bathroom."

This only made me laugh harder, and his elbow bumped my arm playfully.

"You've got a good laugh."

This brought me back to Earth for a second, now feeling self-conscious. I contained my giggles and looked back at him.

"What?"

His smirk was silly when he brought his glass to his lips. "I like your laugh."

I shook my head. "Thank you?"

He giggled into his cup. "You're welcome."

We sat this way for a while. He continued to drink beer, but I ordered a soda after my second drink. Continuing to laugh about various different subjects, and telling stories, we then noticed the restaurant beginning to thin.

"Well then, we've been here a while, haven't we?" I mentioned as I glanced around.

"Yeah, I guess so." His eyes were sparkling when they looked at me, which made something in my stomach flip. "I've had a good time talking to you."

Returning the sentiment, I leaned against his arm. "Me too."

His mouth pouted for a second. "I'm pretty bummed I'm leaving tomorrow, or I'd offer to take you on an actual date."

This made me nearly choke on the Cola I was sucking through my straw.

"Oh yeah?" Was all I could manage.

"Well, sure. Why not?"

I raised a brow at him. "Rockstar like yourself? You've got to have a lady at home waiting, don't you?"

He huffed out a sigh, staring down at his hands. "Nah, not lately."

Chewing on my lip, I shrugged. "Then I guess," I leaned in so he could hear me clearly. "it is a shame you have to leave tomorrow."

I could feel his breath on my face, and his brow furrowed, studying me.

"I'll just have to come back soon, huh?"

Smiling, I let my stare fall on his lips. "I guess you will."

His face came closer to mine, the proximity making the air thick. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and his nose brushed against mine. Letting my eyes fall closed, I waited for him to close the gap.

"Can I walk you to your car?"

My eyes snapped open, noticing he hadn't moved, but also hadn't moved.

A shred of disappointment filled me, but I pulled back, gathering my thoughts.

"Uh," I shouldered my purse, a bewildered look on my face. "sure."

I slipped off of the barstool, and walked past him, noticing his palm finding the small of my back to guide me toward the door.

Once outside, the crisp summer evening bit at my skin. I pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt over my hands as we walked to my car, far in the back of the, now mostly empty, parking lot.

I turned around once I had reached the driver's door, intending to bid him a good night and a safe flight home, but - for the second time - was caught off guard.

His chest pressed against mine, pinning me against the side of my car, and his lips crashed into mine. He was gentle, but still forceful enough to make my knees goes weak.

His hands held the roof of my car on either side of my head, and my eyes rolled back as I molded into him, my hands reaching up to grasp the sides of his neck. He breathed into me, sparking something hot in my chest, and made me press my body closer against his.

One of his arms circled around my waist, lifting me up on my tip-toes to reach his face easier. Our lips fought for leverage, tongues swiping over each other. My brain was buzzing with the intensity of it.

When he finally pulled away from me, bringing me back down on the ground, I was breathing heavily, and staring up at him hungrily. He smiled, a sheen of moisture on his swollen bottom lip.

"Thank you, Charlie, for a great evening."

My pupils were dilated wide, and my hands were gripping his shirt, still.

"Thank you for the drinks, Noah."

Letting him go, my hands falling loose at my sides, he took a step back, looking down at the ground where he kicked at the asphalt.

"Could I, maybe..." He was hesitating, which was funny, given he was so confident not a moment before. "Can we exchange numbers?"

My eyebrows shot up at the absurdity of it. He lived thousands of miles away.

"You're serious?"

He just looked at me, pleading. "I am."

I scoffed, holding a hand out. "Let me see your cell."

This brought a grin to his face, his hand slipping his phone out of his pocket. "You're going to give it back this time?"

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Maybe."

He unlocked the screen, and I opened a new contact. Quickly adding myself, I handed it back to him. He looked over the screen, and nodded, satisfied.

He huffed out a sigh, and then held his arms open. I pulled into them, the abnormally long limbs wrapping around me easily.

"Be safe getting home?"

He nodded when he pulled away. "Of course."

I could see his regard, trying to decide if he should. Deciding for him, I careened up as tall as I could, and placed one last soft kiss on his lips.

"Goodnight, Noah."

I opened my door, and sat down in the driver's seat.

"Goodnight, Charlie."

The entire drive home, all I could see in my mind's eye was deep brown eyes and tattoos. Long fingers and even longer arms. Short, straight black hair. An annoyingly adorable smile.

What were the odds? I finally meet a guy, and I will likely will never see him again...

I pulled into my drive, leaning my head against the steering wheel. I'm just so lucky.

My phone lit up in my console, and I grabbed it hastily. The unknown number flashed on my screen.

Noah: Hey beautiful. ;)

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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