#I hope to have this one half way complete for my sanity’s sake soon

[lieutenantbiscute]

Yooo that simarkus music fic u spoke abt in tags sounds so lovely, i hope you get to write it cuz id loove to read it!!!:3

It’s mainly told through ‘The Oh Hello’s’ songs. Luckily I’ve written down what goes where and what lyric corresponds with it, writing it out though is another thing;; my strong shit is art, but alas! This fic needs to be written for my sanity!!

[mirahuyooo]

Hello, yes, I'm here to stake my claim on #14 please~~ with Jiminie, in a college au, sorta strangers to future lovers, loosely based on Enchanted by my queen T-Swift 🥰🥰

And here I made you a moodboard just cause 😘😘

CONGRATS BABE I LOVE YOU 🥹🥹🥹

014. Please don’t be in love with someone else + park jimin 

— Park Jimin can't possibly be real. 

word count: 1,230 contents: fLUFF sO FLUFFY, ROMANCE, wallflower YN with It boy jimin, paired in a project trope, everyone has a crush on jimin (and that’s a FACT 👏), kind of a song fic uwu (alexa play Enchanted by Taylor Swift), miss yn shooting her shot rawr, College AU, Strangers (kinda) to Lovers pairing: park jimin x reader

[masterlist] | check out more of [Four Years with Mira]!

A/N: JAYYYYY!!! ILY2 💖👄💖✨ Thank you so much for joining AND FOR THE MOOD BOARD TOO KAJSDKJASD I hope you like this one 😭💕💓💞 i nearly got carried away lmao enjoy!!

Let it be known that, while you were not one to simp, you understand the craze over the campus it boy, Park Jimin—the awestruck stares that follow him as he walks by, the giggling gossip that always manages to reach even you, or the line of people that try to get close to him. You suppose a big part of it is his pretty face with a soft, gentle image that he knows well how to contrast with an occasional sultry, jaw-dropping look. 

All you've ever done, however, is look respectfully and appreciatively from far away. You were far too swamped attempting to balance your college workload, your job, and your meager social life to ever dare give a go at the competitive waters that surround Park Jimin himself—let alone speak directly to him. 

That is, of course, until you got paired with him for a project, yourself. 

Before then, the two of you had belonged to different crowds, and yet, in spite of the daggered stares of his little fanclub following you around, you've been spending a few weeks completing a paper with the beloved Park Jimin. 

Current verdict? Park Jimin can't possibly be real. 

Even the fluorescent lights, which usually make things dull in the classroom, softly grazes his blond locks, forming some sort of halo around him that you couldn’t really complain about. In your blessed eyes, Jimin very much looked like a cherub and he’s very much an angel, too! Oh to have a classmate as reliable and kind as Jimin for every project! You’d willingly stay and repent in this hellhole. 

Okay, okay. Maybe your crush on him got a whole lot worse.

A blinding, sweet smile comes your way as the students file out of the lecture hall by the time the period ends. "You did great, (Y/N)!" Jimin beams as he jogs over from his row to yours, where you were occupied with gathering your things. "We handled that presentation well, didn't we?"

Ah, there it was—the bittersweet end to this whole fiasco. Just minutes ago, the two of you stood before the class and reported your findings for the paper, though you could tell most of the class only ever really paid attention to Jimin’s half instead of yours. 

Still, your heart races to have him approaching you, but you miraculously manage a smile back—or did it come out a grimace? "You did great, too," you tell him, truthful in every sense of the word as you nearly sing praises of his behavior while the two of you exit the classroom. "I've truly been blessed to have you as my partner for this."

At your words, the It boy’s eyes disappear into crescents from his smile, one soon obscured by his hand and oh God, is Park Jimin blushing right now?

Frankly, it surprises you that, in spite of Jimin’s near superstar popularity in the campus, he’s still susceptible to praises and compliments from certain people. Heck, he's a prince charming himself!  

By the time you two make it to the grounds, Jimin gives you a gentle nudge to the side. "Do you need a lift?" he asks, knowing well from the past weeks that both of your schedules end at this time. He’s given you plenty of rides before, but while yes, you’d love a ride home, for the sake of your sanity;

"You don't have to," you bashfully decline, adjusting the strap of your bag as you nod towards the bus stop. "I'll manage."

Ever the gentleman, Jimin doesn’t let you go home alone if he can help it.  "Nonsense," he insists, linking his arms as he invites you over to the parking lot where his car awaits. "C'mon."

You sigh, though not so begrudgingly, as you follow suit. 

Curse your weakness for pretty boys. 

As usual, there’s a comfortable silence that settles between you and Jimin, the air filled only with the songs that play through the radio. The next song that spins is a familiar one, and you stiffen upon hearing the lyrics. It embodies your situation a little bit too well for you to fully function in the midst of this car ride. God damn it, Taylor Swift! Not now!

Would he even want to go on a date with someone like me anyways?

"Here we are," Jimin softly smiles, definitely not making things easier for you. 

Right, time to get off. "Thanks again for driving me home," you gratefully tell him, shoving your mushy feelings back as you unbuckle your seatbelt. 

“Oh, wait!” 

Shocked and bewildered by his sudden exclamation, you watched as Jimin quickly got out of his own seat just to go around the car and open the door to yours. “My lady,” he playfully bows as he holds out a hand for you to take. Your eyes look owlish as you stare between him and his hand, and yet you found the gall in you to take it, butterflies coming to life in an instant upon feeling his skin on yours. Whattheheckisthis?!

Okay, okay. Maybe you have more than just a crush on this guy.

The last thing on your mind right now is going home, because maybe, just maybe, you might have a chance here. “Jimin?” you timidly call his name, wondering if he could feel your palms sweating. 

He squeezes your hand—squeezes it!—and tilts his head. "Yeah?"

Fuck it.

You take your hand out of his hold to gather some of your bearings. "I know we're not going to be hanging out more now that we're done with the paper but," you swallow thickly, hoping to catch your breath. "I was wondering if you'd like to go to the movies with me this weekend?"

"Ooh, like a date?" Jimin teasingly wiggles his eyebrows at you, arms coming to rest at his hips. 

The visible blush that spreads like wildfire across your cheeks shocks Jimin into a stop, much so when you begin hesitating between a nod and shake of your head. He, too, becomes flustered—the two of you becoming tomatoes in the middle of the sidewalk. 

Jimin takes a deep breath to calm himself down, as he runs a hand through his blond locks. "Actually…"

Oh no. While part of you prepares for the rejection, the song from before also comes into fruition as you, too, find yourself becoming just as wishful, because in spite of Park Jimin having a lot of other options than a wallflower like you, the chances are never quite zero, right?

Please don't be in love with someone else.

Please don't be in love with someone else.

Please don't be in lo—

The shy glance he steals and the uncontrollable smile on his lips melt you first before his words could, shining so blindingly your mind goes blank. "I've been meaning to ask you that myself," Jimin says, to your utter shock, before putting on a playful pout on his plump lips. "And for the record, I didn't plan on stopping my interactions with you, you know."

"Really?" you dumbfoundedly ask the It boy, who only gives you a bashful nod. You suppose you'll have to get more answers on the weekend. "It's a date, then?"

There’s an angel that smiles back at you, eyes twinkling and almost as giggly as the girls that fawn over him. "It's a date." 

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

I'm OBSESSED w/the Howard Stern fic and I was wondering if you could write another interview w/ Howard like matbe it's the first interview after you had gone pubblic... there's a line in your fic “I remember though, at first we were all a little uncertain about her. She’s not exactly like the other women you have a history with"...just like building on that and "I just mean, we were used to seeing you with models and actresses.."where yn is introvert,normal grl who helped H w/his mentalhealth

first of all thank you so much 🥺 it means a lot to me that you liked that other fic that much! i changed your request a little bit because i honestly couldn't picture harry opening up this much in an interview with howard stern slkfjdslkfj but i hope you like it!

tysm to @ssacalumsg0lden for beta reading for me :)))))

zane lowe

warnings: mentions of bad relationships

word count: 1.6k

"So what have you been up to, Harry?" Zane asked, leaning his arm against the picnic table.

"You know, the usual. Some music stuff," Harry said. "But I'm also trying to spend a lot of time with my family and friends. It's so hard to do that when you're on tour or working on a new album, it kind of takes over your life. So I like to try and make sure to do that whenever I'm able to."

"That's good, it helps to stay grounded."

Harry nodded. "It's very easy, I think, to get swept away from your normal life. So I try to surround myself with the people I love as much as possible, for the sake of my sanity," he laughed.

"That's good, it's important to do that," Zane nodded. "Do you notice a positive change in your mood now that you do that?"

"I do, very much," Harry nodded, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he smiled. "I've... There's a few new people I've gotten very close with, and it's made me so much happier."

Harry was, of course, talking about you. His girlfriend of one year. The woman who had changed his life.

Harry knew his relationship with you was different than ones he'd had before. Before, relationships weren't relaxing. They weren't something that made him feel safe, or a space for him to unwind after a long day. They were just something else he had to expend energy on. He was always performing, always trying to make his girlfriend happy, even if that meant sacrificing his own sleep, or comfort, or happiness.

But with you, it was different. For once, he didn't have to be anyone except himself. He didn't have to force himself to stay at afterparties for hours and hours, drinking too much and talking to people he didn't really know. He didn't have to come home after a long day, only to get cleaned up and get ready to go out for a fancy dinner. He didn't have to fake anything, not with you. He could just... be. For the first time in his life, he felt like he could completely be himself, no changes needed.

He had never really been with an introvert before; his previous relationships were always go go go. The next party, the next after party, the next after after party. It was exhausting, if he was being honest. Of course he appreciated the opportunity to celebrate with his friends and meet new people, but sometimes he was just tired. He was tired of being Harry Styles, the pop star who parties constantly. Sometimes he just wanted to come home and decompress, talk to his girlfriend about his day, and ask about hers. He was tired of being on all the time.

Which is why he loved his relationship with you so much. With you, everything seemed easy. Since you were decidedly an introvert, the majority of your evenings with him were spent watching movies in either one of your living rooms. On the nights you did go out (usually suggested by Harry, because you would honestly be fine to stay in every night) you didn't go to extravagant gatherings or five star restaurants. You preferred to explore smaller local shops and cafes, or old book stores, or antique stores, or walk around in a park, or go for a picnic. Places where you and Harry could just be together, without the pressure of others around you.

Harry was happier than he'd ever been. He didn't realize exactly how tiring it was to go out every night until he stopped doing it.

At first though, you were a little concerned about his sudden change of habits. You worried he would begin to resent you for keeping him in every night, since you really weren't interested in going out. After you had been dating for about 2 months, you decided to ask him about it.

"Harry, if you want to go out and... get drinks with your friends, or just meet up with them, you can," you said encouragingly. "I don't want you to feel like you can't do anything just because I don't like going out, I promise I'm not going to be upset if you want to do stuff like that." You were a little shy speaking about this, because it had been an issue before. It's really hard to sustain a relationship when one half wants to go out and have fun every night, and the other just wants to stay in and watch Netflix.

His eyes widened a little and he shook his head. "That's not- I mean if you're sick of having me here..." his voice took on a teasing tone.

"Yeah, because the way I cuddle you constantly really makes it seem like I want you to leave," you rolled your eyes. "But I'm serious, I don't want you to feel like I'm keeping you from doing stuff."

"You don't," he said quickly. "I feel like in other relationships I’ve had, I had to be on all the time. I was ready to go out whenever, we would shut down every party, we were just running around constantly, and I... was so over it," he dropped his head against your shoulder, laughing. "I would so much rather stay in. I mean, I still like going out sometimes, but I really don't have any desire to be like that anymore. I felt like shit all the time because I was always hungover and sleep deprived. Also... I kind of felt like the only reason people wanted to be with me wasn't because they liked me, they just liked the idea of me. They liked the friends and connections I had, they liked the parties I could take them to. I felt... kind of used, I guess. I never felt like I could just be myself, because that's not why they wanted to be with me."

You frowned, bringing your hand up to run your fingers through his hair. "I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve that. I don't want you to feel like that anymore, okay? I want you to feel safe enough with me that you can just be yourself. And I really hope you know the reason I want to be with you. I want to be with you for you, not parties or connections or anything else."

You heard a quiet sniffle, and although his head was in your neck, you could tell he was crying.

"Baby, don't cry," you cooed soothingly, continuing to play with the little hairs at the back of his neck.

"I just... I love you," he said quietly. "And I know it's soon, but I do. I've never been more sure of anything. You don't have to say it back-"

"I love you too," you cut him off quietly. "Very, very much."

-----

Harry smiled as he thought back on that conversation. "Yeah. Definitely a positive change in my mood.

"I'm very glad to hear that," Zane said. "The right person can really change everything."

"They can," Harry agreed. "And that shows, in my music as well as my personal life. When I was writing Fine Line, I was having some of the lowest points of my life. Some of the highest too, but that just goes to show that I had no stability. I was just constantly up and down, thrown from super high highs to very low lows. I just felt... bad, a lot. But now I'm in a much better place, I think, and I think you can really hear that on this new record."

"Well, I'm very excited to hear it!" Zane smiled. "I think we all are."

"Thank you," Harry blushed. "There's a few songs on there that I'm very excited to share. Some very personal ones, so that's a little nerve wracking, but overall," he laughed lightly. "Overall I think they're some of my favorites that I've ever written."

"And are these songs about a certain person?"

"They are," Harry smiled. "She's the reason I'm in this better place. She's the reason I've been able to process so many of my emotions and put them into songs like this, so really she's the one you'll have to thank when the album comes out."

"She sounds wonderful," Zane smiled, looking out over the waves crashing on the shore.

"She is," Harry nodded, following the other man's gaze. "She's really... she's everything."

-----

"Harry, that was amazing," you grinned, launching yourself into his arms. The interview had concluded about an hour ago, and Harry just arrived home with takeout from the Chinese place you both loved.

"Thank you," he smiled, setting the bags down before he hugged you back. "Missed you, though."

"Missed you too." You leaned up to kiss him, but pulled away before it could go too far. "But I'm hungry. Let's eat?"

"Sure," he laughed, picking up the bags to bring them to the table. "Uh- I'm sorry if I said anything too personal, I didn't mean to take it so far. I was just thinking about how much I love you-"

"It's okay," you cut in. "I loved it, I promise it's okay."

"That's good," he leaned over to kiss your cheek. "I honestly had to hold myself back a lot, once i start talking about you it's hard to stop."

Your cheeks burned from the compliments, and you moved to return the tender gesture. "You're so sweet," you smiled. "But I'm, like, starving, so can we talk about this later?"

"Sure we can," Harry laughed. "Anything for you. You're everything."

[thgreatestblue]

false god [part I]

➜ pairing: kokushibou x fem!reader ➜ warnings: mentions of torture, blood, prostitution. ➜ words: 4,7k ➜ a/n: hello everyone! I decided to split this fic in two parts or else it was going to be too much. I was so excited with this idea that I got carried away (as always). I even thought about only posting the ending, but i figured if i was really writing this concept, then I would commit to it! i hope you enjoy it! ➜ ao3

➜ false god [part II] summary: Turning a blind eye was easier when the money was enough to not send you to a brothel ever again, even if it meant looking away when blood was shed. Head above water and you will never drown. The mantra kept you safe for 3 years, but then six eyes pinned you down, and you found yourself swimming in an ocean you swore you weren’t ever diving in.

I.  

If it wasn't for the long and heavy curtains, the house would have been a really pretty and enjoyable place. However, you highly suspected that if it wasn't for the appearances, the house wouldn't even have windows to start with, so you weren't complaining. Although it was hard to see with only a small candle in your hands — the flame barely illuminating the few steps in front of you — you had grown used to the darkness by now. The last 3 years had taught you enough, and you knew the place like the palm of your hand. 

But what you didn't know was where Muzan’s daughter had hidden this time. It was a fairly common game you two played when her father wasn't home, one that allowed the poor girl to run free through the corridors with no fear of running into her father — that in the last few weeks has been more violent and angry than you've ever seen. If it was scary for you, that knew what Muzan truly was; you couldn't imagine what the girl felt seeing her father losing the facade; teeths becoming sharper at each smile, eyes glowing redder at each glance. 

You didn't know what had happened for the so composed and cold-hearted Muzan to start falling apart at the seams, as far as you knew, he never acted that way before; even the rest of the servants had started to gossip about his weird composure. Now, more often than not, you could hear screams filling the hallways like whispers from ghosts, haunting the poor souls that were still lucky to be alive in a place like this. It would give all your body goosebumps, a weird aftertaste that was bitter than any drink you could swallow down. 

You turn another corner, still trying to find the little girl. She was a sweet and well mannered girl, so easy to look after that you didn't think it was normal. How her eyes were always looking around, her tongue never daring to say more than the necessary, so quiet that most of the time you forget she was still in the room; her mother was the same. 

Two beautiful things that over time started to look more like paintings than real human beings, for society to appreciate, portraying a family that was as perfect as the colors Muzan chooses to show. And for their safety, you hoped they would stay just like that. Everybody at the house knew she wasn't really his daughter — you didn't want to think what happened to the real father, then. 

For the sake of their sanity, they didn't know what Muzan really was. Many of the servants didn't know either. And for some time, you wondered if it would have been a blessing being ignorant like that, not knowing what really took place in a house like this. Behind closed doors things could get even more terrifying, that even you couldn't imagine — no that you wanted, anyway. 

Turning a blind eye to the situation was something you had struggled with in the first year; the amount of blood and organs you had to clean was alarming, the unspoken fear that would be in the tip of everyone’s tongue but never daring to escape; it was heavy the air every time he walked in, but for most of the servants the fear was inexplicable. Not for you though, always going to sleep with the fear that your blood would be the next staining the floor of his office. 

It wasn't as if you had had a choice, neither Daki nor Muzan gave you one. It was keeping a secret or dying with it — and you wanted to live enough to see yourself out of this place, far away from these atrocities. Although it wasn't the best opinion, definitely wasn't the worst. Anything other than going back to the brothels of Yoshiwara; to the hands of strangers; to the dark nights where all you could do was scrub your skin until it was burning red. 

It was a time of your life you didn't like to revisit; it was locked away in the deepest of your mind, but somehow the key would always find its way back to your hand. It was inevitable to think about those years you spent on your knees, selling your body so you could eat the next day. Though, now that you worked for Muzan, those thoughts that haunted you as you laid your head on the pillow were replaced by blood, screams of agony and guts - you’re not sure which was worse. 

The candle burns quickly in your hand, you were running out of time to find the small girl. Although you had come up with a few rules to turn this game a little bit easier — like not entering any room, not hiding inside any closet — the child still put up a challenge; and again, you didn't want to think why she was so good at hiding.

“Ah! There you are!” You could see, even with the thin light, a silhouette that you were very familiar with by now. The dark hair almost blends with the background; she is gripping the candle with both hands, not looking at you even when you call her name, “I think this time you outdone your…”

As soon as you reach the little girl, you can feel the atmosphere change. There’s a dense feeling settling in your chest that spreads throughout your body like fire, almost pulling you down to your knees. The hair on the back of your neck stands up almost instantly, and you don't need to see what it is causing to know exactly what it is. The fear on the girl's face is enough to tell you that she had seen a Demon. 

“Stay behind me, honey.” You whisper as you put your body in front of her’s, eyes trying to focus on the figure by the end of the corridor. The little girl immediately grabs your leg, hiding behind it, you can feel her small body shaking against you. 

Not so far away, you catch a glimpse of a big silhouette walking towards you, it’s so massive that you can’t help but take a step back. It wasn't everyday you saw another Demon walking in those hallways, if ever. Besides Muzan, you only knew Daki by name; she has been the one who brought you to this place, after all. 

In the back of your mind you kept telling yourself if anything went wrong, it was still midday. You could open the curtains and stand in the sun; though you didn't know if you would be fast enough to avoid a tragedy. 

As the Demon stepped closer, the fragile flame from your candle trembles, even the fire was nervous at the change of events. The silence is maddening, all your instincts are screaming run! run! but you can’t move a foot. It takes only a few more steps for the figure to finally be illuminated by the light, the anticipation making your heart beat furiously against your ribcage. 

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn't the man in front of you. His face is the first thing that the light reaches — and if you could hear the sound of your heart beating just a second ago, now it goes completely silent. 

His face is a shade so light that for a moment you thought it was transparent; so pale, but it looked soft to the touch. There’s a red mark that reminds you of flames covering half of the right side of his forehead, and another one on the left side of his cheeks, that goes down to his neck. However, what was more unsettling about him was his eyes. There are six of them, bright yellow irises surrounded in scarlet bloody sclera, staring directly at you. 

With only the candle light to illuminate the hallway, the scenario you found yourself in should’ve been a nightmare, but there was something about the Demon in front of you that made it tolerable. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, a polished posture you don't really see very often. How he didn't look like he was about to rip you apart - or maybe that was worse, because you didn't know what to expect from him.

It made you wonder who he was when still human. His hair was a shade darker than the shadows, perfectly framing his face; the ponytail was tied up on the top of his head, the rest of it falling graciously on his back, long and smooth. He was a very beautiful and elegant man; but even with the whole picture, those eyes were still unsettling, 

“I’m looking for Muzan-sama.” His voice is strong and heavy, cutting through the silence of the hallway like a thunder cuts through the night to announce the upcoming rain. The little girl yelps, gripping your thigh even harder. 

You immediately bow, prefering to stare at his feet than to stay under his intense gaze, “I’m afraid he’s not at home right now...My lord.” You decide to refer to him in a polite way, and he seems pleased by it. 

Not only was he a Demon, but he seemed important, more important than Daki for the looks of it. He wore a black and purple kimono; the material, even in the thin light, looked expensive. However, what made him hold such a powerful presence, was the katana attached to his waist. And if his six eyes weren't enough, there were more of them carving the handle of the sword. 

“And who are you?” The Demon asks, voice low and firm, making you shiver slightly. His eyes are fixed on your face, making you feel even more uneasy under his stare. He takes a few steps closer, the overpowering aura paralysing you right in the spot for a second. 

“I’m Y/N,” You answer, trying your best not to sound too scared. And quickly adds, not daring making him wait, “And this is Muzan-sama’s daughter.”

You put your hand at the top of the little girl’s head, her shakiness is palpable even from far away, and you can’t blame her. Despite living among Demons, you had wished she would grow up oblivious to what went down in this household. Apparently, an illusion can never last forever, only the truth remains untouched in eternity. You try your best to calm her down by running your fingers through her hair. Even though the wax of the candle burns your hand, you can stop gripping it, anything to help you stay calm. 

As if he was in a trance, he stops. Slowly catching your movements with his eyes, “Are you his wife?” 

The question takes you by surprise, and you have to blink a few times, raising your eyebrows in the process. Thank Gods I'm not, it’s the first thing that crosses your mind. However, the hesitation in his voice is concerning; and you have a hard time trying to swallow down what that could possibly imply. 

“No, I’m just a servant… My lord.” Telling him the truth was the only thing you could do right now.

If he decided to kill you because you weren't important, it was your fault for not trying to escape sooner. You had hoped this wasn't going to be the way you would end, but perhaps you had sold your fate on the day you saw Daki eating another girl.

The demon nods, and takes a few more steps closer. You involuntarily flinch, feeling his presence and intimidating aura hitting you like a train. Your breath gets caught on your throat as you watch his hand moving closer to your face. The nails of the little girl on your thing were definitely drawing blood right now. 

But instead of ripping your head off, he touches your cheek.

You didn't notice you had closed your eyes, but they snap open at the gentle touch. Your eyes grow wide at each suffocating second his fingers hover over your skin. Goosebumps spread all over your body as his strong fingers wrap around your chin, forcing you to look at him, at his six eyes. They seem to be studying you, hovering around your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth. 

It feels like you’re on display all over again. When men would come to the brothel and choose the girl they were going to use just by her looks; if she still had teeths, if they were still tight enough, if their good reputation was still intact. It made you want to choke each one of them, making them swallow down each word they had ever said until they were suffocating with their own nastiness. Right now, though, you just fell silent, letting him analyse your face as much as he wanted. You knew you would be dreaming with those yellow orbs from now on. 

“Tell him I’ll be waiting in his office.” He says, slowly easing the grip, giving your face one last look before finally letting go of your chin, and you averts your eyes as soon as his touch isn't on you anymore. 

The only movement your body manages to do is nod, all the rest goes numb with the tension that settles in your bones. Your breathing becomes shallow, body too paralized to function properly. There’s a growing pain on your jaw from clenching your teeth too hard. You and the little girl stay frozen in place as you watch him turning away, walking back from the direction he had come. 

A cold sensation settles on the pitch of your stomach as you watch the Demon walk away. If you were to trust your guts, this definitely wasn't the last time you would be seeing him. And for better or for worse, your guts were never wrong. 

II.

Walking through the hallways of Muzan’s house was different since the day you encountered that Demon. Each time turning a corner, you would hold your breath, take a double look at the shadows, looking for any sign of the man; as if he would appear from the dark and drag you to join him — no one was going to miss you anyway. Even after weeks, you could still feel his gaze hovering around your skin, the feeling of having so many eyes on you was maddening. But the worst was his touch, still managing to linger on your chin, ghostly haunting your days, and mostly your nights. 

Muzan’s daughter seemed to have forgotten the encounter; she didn't say a single thing about it, even after you took her to the kitchen to give her some tea. She was shaking so much you were afraid she would pass out. However, when you asked her about, she just shook her head, saying she was afraid because the man was intimidating. You wondered if her mind had just erased the few important details or if she was pretending that nothing was wrong for her own sanity. Either way, your heart aches for the little girl, but there was nothing you could do. 

Head above water and you will never drown. It has become your mantra since the first time you sold your body, since the first time you laid your eyes on a Demon - when you sold your soul to stay alive. It sure makes the food you eat taste bitter and the pillow on which you lay your head feels like a stone; but at least you are alive, right? 

You could only hope that the Demon Slayers were going to put an end to this, sooner or later. If the rumors were true, then things finally started to move, and by Muzan’s temper getting worse by each day, they were making some progress.

You just had to control your emotions, and pray that Muzan wasn't going to lash any of his anger on you; living with him for a few years made you realize that even the best servants could suffer a tragic destiny, no one was safe here. No one was ever safe around a Demon, after all. 

“Muzan-sama, do you need anything else?” 

It was still morning outside; a very pretty day from the glimpse you caught as you passed a slightly open curtain. As much as you wanted to leave the house and enjoy the sun, mornings like those were the worst for Muzan; where the small amount of light would make him so angry that you had lost account of how many times you had to clean his office after some unfortunate soul left a tiny ray of light enter the room. 

Muzan seemed to be in a good mood today; a rarity nowadays. He was wearing that same dangerous smile from the day he met you, plotting something in his mind and letting it show through his face; and if you were to guess, it wasn't a good sign. He had called for you, asked to pour him a drink — at this point you knew it was blood, just in some fancy bottle — and now was staring at you. 

“I heard you meet Kokushibou, Y/N… What do you think about him?”

“Who?” 

There’s a nagging feeling growing in the back of your mind as you watch Muzan dangerously smile at you. You had never heard that name before, but somehow your mind pictured the Demon from the other day straight away. If this conversation was about him, then you were definitely with a few problems. 

“Tall, long hair, six eyes… Does it ring a bell?” Muzan’s tone is playful, swinging the glass in his hand.

“He seems...” You hesitate, remembering his six eyes fixed on your face, his strong hand gripping your chin, and the intense threatening aura exhaling from him. You swallow down, but your throat feels dry, “...Strong.” 

“Always so observant,” He laughs, drinking a sip from the glass, “Of course he’s strong. He’s the upper moon one, stupid human.”

Wrong answer. Your mind screams, ready to push the alert button as soon as his features change in the slightest. The first time you encountered him you couldn't even speak, couldn't even breathe. The intensity of his threatening aura was so strong that you wanted to puke, scream, run away; but your feet never moved. It took you a long time to even manage to move a muscle when in his presence — all the time he acted amused, and you didn't expect less from a monster savouring the distress of a mere human.

You knew the Demon… Kokushibou was powerful just by his presence, but everything made sense now; the authoritarian semblance of dominance each of his movements seemed to carry, how different his aura was from Daki; even though she was powerful, she still acted like a self absorbed teenager. 

“But I’m asking about your first impression,” If he was angry, you couldn't tell, the way Muzan quickly changed emotions was scary, but most of the time, dangerous, “What do you really think about him?”

“He seems to be respectful and polite…” It wasn't a complete lie; Kokushibou did look like he was someone important in his other life, his clothes were clean and tidy. And not trying to kill you that day was a bonus, “And definitely more civil than Daki.”

Muzan laughs again, showing off his teeth, but seeming content with your answer. He studies you while drinking another sip from the glass, and you try to do your best by staying still, but under his gaze no one could ever remain calm, or sane. Your heart beats fast in your chest as the minutes drag by. It’s agonizing, staying in the same room as him for longer than necessary. 

“Well, I called you here to say that I don't need your services anymore.” He finally drops the bomb on your lap, and you can’t do much then stare at the explosion forming on your hands. 

“Did I do something wrong, Muzan-sama?” You ask, but your voice is weak. 

Panic starts to settle on your stomach, did you say something you shouldn't? Have you done something that he didn't like? Did he see through your facade and now was going to kill you? A torrent of thoughts starts to flood your mind as anxiety settles under your skin, making you sweat. 

“No, actually you're more than perfect.” Muzan says, rather uninterested “But i don't care about that child anymore, so i don't see why keep pretending”

A cold shiver runs down your spine as he says those words as if he was getting rid of trash. Somehow, in the back of your mind, you knew this moment was going to happen. It was a matter of time until Muzan decided to drop the act and move on as if nothing happened. 

He didn't care about anyone but himself. You could only hope he was merciful enough to kill them quickly, heart breaking with the thought of that little girl seeing him as the monster he truly was in her final moments before her death. What a nightmare, what twisted fucking world. 

“You've been great. It's a shame you don't want to become a demon, could be one of the best and easily one of my favorites.”

“It is an honor to hear that, Muzan-sama.” You don’t sound like yourself; you can’t even process what he’s saying while you think about mother and daughter, years trying their best to please Muzan only to find death by his own hands. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes but you hold them as much as you can, it would only piss him off seeing you being emotive, caring about someone. 

“Then why don't you want to turn into one?” 

When you don't answer, he sighs loudly, closing the book he was reading. The sound takes you out of your thoughts, making you jump; heartbeat on your ears. He murmurs something under his breath, you’re so lucky you don’t have any idea, before getting up. With his back to you, he studies the painting on the wall of his office. It’s a strange combination of flowers and blood, but it strangely suits him.

“Since you've a good reputation, I’ve already guaranteed another job for you.” Muzan turns his head, 

“Thank you so much…” You try to say between the cacophony of thoughts swinging around your head. It’s hard to keep the tears from falling down, it’s hard to think about anything else than the poor family being torn apart for his amusement. 

“Pack your things, you're going to work for Kokushibou now.”

There’s a painful pause on your heart, and you could swear you were going to collapse right in the moment. Your mind goes blank, fear crossing your eyes as you remember his touch on your chin, the cold yet burning feeling of his stare on each part of your face. 

“You just said you think he’s respectful, do you have a problem with him that you didn't tell me about it?” Muzan turns his head, red eyes glowing in the thin light of the room; it’s deadly.

“I don't, Muzan-sama. It’s going to be a honor.” You lie, because that’s the only thing you can do right now. 

“Well then, you're dismissed.”

You don’t know how you made it to your room, how you packed your things and cleaned the room you called home for years, one last time. It felt like you were numb to everything, still not being able to process what was happening, where you were going, and who you were going to be working for. At some point your cheeks were thick with tears but you didn't feel sad for yourself, not entirely, it was how abrupt the world was. How abrupt things changed and you couldn't have a single say about it. 

That’s why you never got attached to anyone, that’s why you never let your guard down. And even when you didn’t have any type of attachment, the world still manages to pull the rug beneath your feet. You don't even try to look for the little girl — not that you had the opportunity, either way. 

As you stare at the view from the window of the train, you can at least relax for the first time in years. Not being surrounded by the overpowering aura that Muzan always carried with himself was so relieving that you could feel yourself taking a few deep breaths, smelling the air of the mountains. Trying to enjoy the ride as much as you could, you didn't want to think about what kind of place Kokushibou lived, or how your life would be once you step in. 

It was night when you arrived at the designed station, it was far away from the city, and you were already missing the noise and the traffic, but maybe changing scenarios was something good - you had to keep telling yourself to be positive about this. It couldn't be worse than living with Muzan, right? Right.

You were welcomed by an old lady, she was waiting for you at the platform, waving at you as you got off the train. Since you didn't have many belongings, you only brought a small suitcase with you. 

“You must be Y/N, nice to meet you.” She gently says, smiling at you. 

“Yes, I am. Nice to meet you too.” You bow in respect. The old lady pats your head and you immediately feel safer. If the rest of the servants were like her, then maybe Kokushibou was indeed a respectful man.

The tension building up on your body slowly started to calm down as the servant explained what you would have to do. It was easy and simple, washing the bed sheets, cleaning the house, taking care of the garden. You never imagined yourself working under such a mundade setting like this; it was going to be interesting, to say the least. 

However, the odd feeling that something was wrong still lingered — your gut still poking you with worries and alerts — and you couldn't just ignore it, but for now, you tucked it underneath your hopes, wishing it was enough to keep them at bay. 

The wagon stopped in front of an elegant archway, and as you helped the old lady get down from it, you studied the beautiful front yard, with a colorful garden and a variety of trees. There was a pathway of cobblestones that led to the house; witch was big and very tradicional. 

Walking in silence towards the house, your eyes flew around, trying to enjoy each glimpse of nature. It has been so long since you have seen so many different colors, vibrant even under the moonlight. You touch a few flowers, fingers brushing against the delicate petals; the smell of them cleans your mind, making a tiny smile tug on the corner of your lips.

However, as soon as your eyes drifted back to the house, the tiny smile died on your lips, sending you back to reality. Kokushibou was standing right in front of the porch, his hand was resting on his sword. You held your breath as you finally arrived at the house, bowing as soon as you were introduced. 

Kokushibou studied you for a long moment before saying “Welcome, Y/N.” 

[jokertrap-ran]

(时空中的绘旅人—For All Time—) Clarence Route Translations (Chapter 16-2 阿萝拉: Aurora)

*For All Time Master-list / Clarence’s Personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Maintaining Si Lan’s name as Clarence *Route Tag is #Chapter of Legacy

I carried the napping Aurora back to the Mage Tower.

Seeing how her body was becoming horribly cold, I held her with my own body as she slept.

It was a while later that she turned, looping her arms around my neck.

Aurora: I'm a little cold… Uncle told me that I should sing loudly whenever I'm cold...

Saying so, she started singing in a gossamer-like voice by my ear.

Aurora: Stars are sleeping, snow gently falling. Where has the butterfly gone; for my hand still holds the fragrance of flowers…

She sang in short bursts. Maybe it was because she was still unfamiliar with it, or perhaps it was because she was distracted by something else.

Aurora: That Uncle sings it so well. Sadly, Aurora hasn't completely learnt it…

She hugged me tighter to her because of how cold she felt. Her other hand reached over to press itself against her stomach. I knew her stomach was still hurting.

Clarence said that these were all drawbacks of being a Mage.

But for a child so young? On what grounds, does she have to be bearing this immense burden for the sake of the world?

I didn't know what to do. All I could do was to hold her small body tightly within my arms…

A night passed.

It was very quiet when I awoke.

No, something's wrong. Aurora should be beside me, and she's gone! Did… Did Clarence deal away with her already, since she was on the verge of losing control?

I hurriedly got up and recalled what Sun Zhuoyi had told me yesterday. I felt a gut-dropping sense of unease. I MUST find her!

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I quickly smoothed out my clothes and went hunting for her up and down the Mage Tower.

The carriage was already ready and waiting outside the Mage Tower. Clarence was giving Aurora the instructions to her assignment in front of it.

I got a little closer to them and listened in on their conversation.

Sounds like Aurora’s mission this time is to clear out the Rebel Mages who worked under the Silver Knight.

The Silver Knight had managed to rope some Rebel Mages into his plans and allowed them to attack the Palace, as well as the residences of Nobles. I’ve also vaguely seen the aftermath of the chaos caused by the Rebel Mages before, in my previous journeys.

To my knowledge of the matter, they’d managed to successfully scare the Aristocrats, but they were all quickly dealt away with by Clarence himself, so nothing particularly serious happened.

But this time, upon overhearing Clarence as he explained Aurora’s task to her, I knew; This wasn’t the slightest bit simple at all.

The Silver Knight has been pulling out all stops and laying out the groundwork every step of the way in his plans to attack the Capital. Not only did he have Ordinary Mages under his control, but also a team of Mages that were already out of control.

The Silver Knight utilized potions to forcefully alter the Mages into a half-butterfly metamorphosis― He coerced the Mages to consume the potion of their own accord, making them willingly fall into a state of nearly losing control, before maintaining this state through the use of another potion.

A Mage in this state had icy wings in place of arms and their entire body covered in ice crystals. Their sanity will be on the brink of madness, yet they still hold a sliver of consciousness.

Of course, when under excruciating pain, the only thing they can process is to kill, destroy, and freeze everything. And Clarence’s method of dealing with this impending “destruction”, was to “engulf” it all.

He’d decided to send out Aurora, one of the “Nine Seats'' to deal with the matter. He told her that she didn’t need to care about who, or what was on the other end, merely to treat them as Ice Butterflies and devour them all.

Aurora: Wow. Aurora can eat till she’s full if there are that many monsters this time. Right?

Clarence: That’s right. You’ll be able to eat to your heart’s content this time. And then after you’re done… Do make sure to get a good night’s sleep. You will not feel cold anymore, and neither will your stomach hurt ever again after you fall asleep this time.

I felt my eyes dampening.

Aurora… She really doesn’t know, does she…?

This was a death sentence in the farce of a mission. However, Clarence was as calm and unwavering as ever as he delivered Aurora the details of her mission. While Aurora, on the other hand, was only worried about whether she could “eat till she was full”.

The fate of all Mages was to be born in the throes of desire, pain, and suffering; and also, to fall into the spiral of madness and depravity.

It was then that Clarence breathed a light sigh.

Clarence: Do you hate me, Aurora?

Clarence actually asked another about their thoughts on him? I’d long since thought that he’d forgo how others saw him, given his personality...

Aurora wore a blank look of utter confusion. She looked up at Clarence, unable to come up with an answer even after thinking for a good long while.

Clarence: I am the Master of the Mage Tower. I should be the one guiding and protecting all of you Mages.

Clarence: However, you are all nought but tools to me. I use you, I sacrifice you… I watch you all die, one-by-one… Yet, I do not bat an eye.

Clarence: It would only make sense if you were to hate me for what I did.

With how he was bemoaning with lament at this point, rather than talking to Aurora about it, it might as well just be him, criticizing himself with his own monologue.

He was blaming himself for being as icy and closed-off as he was.

— Does this mean that somewhere deep down in that heart of his… Clarence has a heart that feels for all the Mages under him?

Aurora: Hate…? You mean, not liking you? Aurora doesn't dislike you, Master Clarence~

Aurora: Aurora doesn't like being hungry. Aurora has always been hungry before meeting you.

Aurora: Aurora cried back home and kicked up a fuss, asking dad for food. Dad took Aurora and dumped Aurora by the river, picking up many hard pieces of bread to eat.

Aurora: Aurora doesn’t like hard bread, but Aurora was just so hungry… So, Aurora ate them all down anyway.

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… I could guess what the “hard bread” she was talking about really was. I’d heard of a distant legend about the olden times, where the poor would feed their offspring stones in place of food during times of famine...

The children who ate stones will die, but at least that would save some food for the rest of the family.

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Aurora: Aurora always got a tummy ache whenever Aurora eats the hard bread, but Master Clarence gave Aurora medicine to drink. It was bitter, but Aurora’s stomach no longer hurt after drinking it.

Clarence: I’m not doing a good deed. Your strong desire for food, “gluttony”, was what drew me in. I merely thought that you had the potential to become a Mage.

Clarence: I took you under my wing, taking you to the Mage Tower. I offered you all the delicacies that Yemsaiel has to offer. Yet, at the same time, I required you to devour Ice Butterflies. Your stomach still hurts all the same.

Aurora tilted her head in thought. She patted the sides of her head, seemingly trying to make sense of what Clarence was trying to say...

After a while, Aurora started sucking on her thumb in thought, apparently none the wiser.

Aurora: Err… I still have stomach aches, but I can’t blame you for that, Master Clarence. You’re a Mage… not someone who treats bad tummies...

Aurora: I heard that you’d get a stomach ache from eating too much, and I can’t stop myself from eating… So, I think it’s pretty normal for me to be getting tummy aches...

Aurora: So be it then! I like to eat! And I’m super happy when I’m eating! You let me eat all I want, Master Clarence! Of course, I like you!!

Clarence: ……

Clarence stays silent for a while before sighing gently.

As pure and innocent as Aurora was, there was nothing Clarence could say to make her understand the truth.

It was probably only because of her naive earnestness as a young girl that allowed her to concentrate as much as she did on her Magic, hence the reason why she was able to attain the rank of one of the “Nine Seats” at such a young age.

Suddenly, Aurora jumped in front of Clarence and patted his face.

Aurora: Stop pulling such a long face, Master Clarence...

Aurora: The Mage Tower is very noisy. There are always people yelling and crying, but everyone also has times where they smile. Only you, Master Clarence. You've never smiled.

Aurora: Aurora smiles when Aurora's full, and the others smile when their wish is fulfilled.

Aurora: Aurora is thinking that Master Clarence's wish hasn't been fulfilled yet. Aurora hopes that it'll be fulfilled soon~

Aurora: Although, even if Aurora might already be asleep by then… Aurora will still be happy! Just like when Aurora has a full stomach!

Hearing Aurora's words, the realization finally dawned on me that she never truly understood anything. She was as clueless as they came.

Clarence paused for a moment before reaching out, caressing her hair and touching her face.

Clarence: How cold… The skin of all Mages is always cold to the touch. I apologise for making you turn out like this.

Clarence: I create all of you, let all of you grow and indulge in all of your desires. And in part, I've also made all of you the very thing feared and hated by the world.

Clarence: But at the same time, I'm also aware that all of you are the true victims, the true sacrifices, of this world.

Clarence: I am incapable of saving you all. But not letting your sacrifices be in vain is the least I can do.

After that, Clarence's lips parted slightly into a faint chuckle.

Clarence, he… he's really laughing…

Aurora was elated, skipping in front of Clarence and jumping up to pull his cheeks upwards.

Aurora: He’s laughing… This is the first time I’ve seen Master Clarence laugh!

Actually squishing Clarence’s face like that… Only Aurora would ever dare to do such a thing…

Clarence wasn’t mad, only maintaining his smile.

Clarence: Aurora. I treat all the Mages here in this Mage Tower as my pawns, with no emotional attachment whatsoever. But that is only because I do not want anyone to influence my emotions, and the decisions I make.

Clarence: — But that doesn’t mean that all the time I’ve spent with all of you is meaningless to me. I do not regret the time I spent with any of you.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥Chapter of Legacy✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Previous Part: (Chapter 16-1) | Next Part: (Chapter 16-3)

[spookyboywhump]

So remember that conversation we had on Wren starving himself because he refuses to eat out of Nicholas’ hand? Yeah here we go :3c

CW: Bad Timeline, starvation, force feeding, death mentioned several times, creepy whumper, noncon kiss (not on the lips), pet whump, dehumanization

***

It had been an ongoing fight ever since he’d gotten there. Nicholas would feed them at the same time, praising Cain for being such a good boy as he passed him bites of food that the man eagerly accepted, while Wren sat there with his arms crossed over his chest, stubbornly refusing to accept any food from him. As long as he was trying to hand feed him, he’d rather go hungry.

At first he found ways around it. When Nicholas’ back was turned, especially if he was distracted with Cain, then he could slip away. He’d always been good at sneaking around, if he was quick he could get in and out of the kitchen with something that would be enough to get him through the day. He’d tried sneaking down at night but was too worried about waking Nicholas when he tried to get out of bed, instead just doing his best during the day. Of course, it was only a matter of time before he got caught, and after that Nicholas began to keep a better eye on him, leaving him frustrated and so, so hungry.

“Don’t look at me like that, Love. I’m offering you food, all you have to do is take it.” Nicholas reminded him as Wren glared up at him.

“I’m not eating out of your fucking hand.” He snarled, arms wrapped around his middle as he was hit with another hunger pang. It had been days since he’d last eaten, and Nicholas didn’t seem like he was going to give in anytime soon- but neither was he. He was unfortunately used to being hungry, from growing up with little food to spending nine months with Cain, by now he was used to that dull ache in his stomach. Nicholas wasn’t going to be the one to finally break him with this, he refused to let that happen. He didn’t get a single bite to eat that night, and Nicholas sighed as he finally rose from his chair once he’d finished his meal.

“You can’t be this stubborn forever.” He told him. “You won’t be eating anything that I don’t feed to you, you may want to drop this stubborn attitude sometime soon.” He said, and Wren narrowed his eyes at him.

“I’d rather fucking starve.”

***

“You need to eat something.” Cain said bluntly, sitting beside him where he was curled up on the bed. Nicholas had left them alone for the day, he’d fought with the door longer than he cared to admit despite the fact he knew there was no escaping. He had to give up eventually, curling up with his arms wrapped around himself, his eyes squeezed shut. His head hurt, his whole body felt weak, and the ache in his stomach just wouldn’t go away.

“I’m not fucking doing it.” He muttered, refusing to even look at him.

“You’re not going to get anywhere like this. You’re more likely to starve to death before he gives in.”

“Good! I’d rather fucking die than be his obedient fucking lapdog!”

“I never knew you were so much like Zander.” Cain sighed, finally catching Wren’s attention enough that he at least turned to face him, opening his eyes to look up at him. “He did the same thing, the idiot planned to starve himself to death just to spite my father.”

“I think that’s a good enough reason-”

“It’s not.” He interrupted, looking down at him. “You’re not getting anything out of this. You’re just going to starve and starve until you finally die, or until he tries to do something about it. You might as well start eating before he gets to that point.”

“Fuck off.” He muttered. He knew it was a weak response because he knew that Cain was right and he’d rather die than admit that. He’d rather die than do a lot of things right now.

“You know I’m trying to help you, right?” He said, gentler as he placed a hand on Wren’s shoulder, almost as though he was trying to comfort him, only for him to quickly jerk away, weakly forcing himself to sit up so he could move away from him.

“I don’t want your help! You’ve never been any help to me before, you don’t need to start now!” He snapped. He thought this was ridiculous coming from Cain, he had half a mind to remind him how he put him through the same thing for two weeks, all for the sake of some stupid game. “Just leave me the fuck alone, will you?!” For a moment he saw a familiar look on his face, the way his eyes narrowed when he talked back to him, the look that used to make him freeze in terror. It didn’t last long though, giving way to his typical resigned expression.

“Fine then, suit yourself.” He said, getting off the bed while Wren laid back down, hiding his face in a pillow. He felt dizzy just from sitting up, his stomach turning and making him even more nauseous.

He knew it would be easier to give in. He knew it would be better for him to just stop being stubborn, to just be good and behave for Nicholas, allow him to hand feed him like a beloved pet. He knew it would be better but the thought of it made him angrier than he’d been in a while. He grit his teeth and curled up on himself as his stomach growled.

He still refused to give in.

***

He knew this was bad. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, the days continued to blur together. He hardly slept, constantly kept awake from how sick he felt, and at this point, he could hardly move. He spent most of the day curled up in bed or on the floor, and he unfortunately needed Cain’s help if he even wanted to shower after he fainted and hit his head days ago. Nicholas refused to offer him any help, in fact he’d been acting as though the starving boy in his bed was invisible, not worthy of his attention as long as he was “misbehaving”.

He hated to admit it, but he spent a lot of time crying. There wasn’t anything else he could do, and sometimes he couldn’t even manage that, miserable and angry and scared. He didn’t want to die, every time he thought he was okay with it, every time he thought it would be better than everything happening now, he was wracked with guilt. He hoped that his friends were looking for him, he hoped that Zander wanted him back, and he would feel awful if they’d wasted all that time only to find him dead. Cain had tried to talk some sense into him but there wasn’t anything he could do now. Nicholas was waiting for Wren to break and beg and he just wouldn’t.

Even though Cain had warned him, Wren still didn’t expect Nicholas to snap before he could starve completely.

Wren didn’t have the strength or energy to move when Nicholas lifted him from the bed that evening. The man didn’t say anything as he carried him from the room, and though Wren had a thousand snarky comments he wanted to make, if only to preserve his own sanity, all he could manage was a tired moan, his head leaned against Nicholas’ chest. He didn’t know, and he didn’t really care where they were going, his eyes fell shut and he simply waited for this to be over. It didn’t matter what he had planned, there was nothing he could do now except wait.

It wasn’t long before he was being sat down in a chair, which wasn’t a problem until leather straps were pulled tight around his wrists. He didn’t understand the point of that, he couldn’t have struggled even if he wanted to, but he didn’t question it.

“I have to admit, I didn’t think you would last this long. You’re more stupid than I thought, but your perserverence is impressive to say the least.” Nicholas said casually, and Wren watched tiredly as he got things ready on the table in front of him, though he couldn’t quite make sense of what he had there. Everything was sort of in a haze to him, in fact he wouldn’t have been surprised if he was dreaming all this, sighing and closing his eyes until Nicholas suddenly grabbed his face, startling him into paying attention. “I can’t have my favorite pet starving to death though, so I have to put an end to your little game.” He said, and Wren could see the slight irritation on his face.

“Wh… what do you mean…?” He murmured, his thoughts too clouded for him to understand what he was talking about. He knew he couldn’t eat right now, knew it would just make him even sicker, but Nicholas seemed to have a plan.

“Now- I need you to stay still, and do exactly as I say, Love.” He said, all but ignoring his confusion. “I’ve never done this before and I’d hate to hurt you while doing it.” He said, and Wren watched as he picked up a long, thin tube. It took him a few seconds to figure out what he planned to do with this, but it hit him hard as Nicholas held him by the chin, bringing the end of the tube up to his nose, and he was suddenly hit with a rush of panic and adrenaline.

“N-no!” He cried, trying to jerk his head away and weakly pulling against the straps holding him down. “No! G-Get that- Get that away from me!”

“I said hold still.” Nicholas said sternly, scowling at him. “This is for your own good, Love, you can’t continue to starve yourself this way.”

“I-I’ll eat, okay?! I’ll eat w-whatever you give me, I’ll eat from your-your hand, j-just get that away from me!” He yelled.

“Oh, I wish I could.” Nicholas said, faux sympathy obvious in his voice. “No, it’s been too long now, you’ll have to start with this and maybe, if you can be good, you’ll get to eat normally again. You should’ve just behaved from the start, this is really your own fault.” He told him, gripping his chin tighter as he finally forced the end of the tube up his nose.

His eyes began to water immediately and he couldn’t help but cry out in pain and discomfort. He wanted to pull away but he knew Nicholas was right, he needed to stay still if he didn’t want to risk this going terribly wrong. The fact that Nicholas hadn’t done this before wasn’t any comfort either, and he choked and gagged as it was pushed down the back of his throat, his nails digging into the armrests his wrists were secured to. Tears streamed down his face and all he could do was whine and whimper pathetically, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Shh, you’re doing fine sweetheart. Just relax, okay?” Nicholas said gently, but it wasn’t really of any comfort to him as he coaxed him to swallow to help push it down. “Poor thing, I hope you’ll behave better for me next time so we can avoid this.” He sighed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Wren’s forehead as he finally got the tube in place, all the way down his throat. He was still getting used to the intrusion, the discomfort of having a foreign object pushed through his nose, he wasn’t sure he’d get used to it at all. It hurt less now that it was in place but it was still uncomfortable, it was still scary, he just wanted this to be over.

He watched through his tears as the man pulled away from him, watching as he used a syringe to push some sort of liquid into the other end of the tube. He shuddered and whined at the cold feeling that rushed down his throat, more tears welling up in his eyes from the odd sensation.

Stop stop stop, please just stop, He thought, wishing desperately that this was some sort of nightmare he’d finally wake up from. He didn’t know how long he expected this to last but it continued to drag on and on, slowly he began to feel full but it wasn’t satisfying, he just felt exhausted and sick, the same as before.

It felt forever had passed by the time Nicholas slowly began to remove the tube from down his throat, Wren panicked and gagging as he did so, unable to tolerate the feeling. He thought it would be a relief but it felt awful, even as Nicholas finally pulled the end out from his nose he was still taking shuddering breaths, soft whimpers escaping his throat. His wrists were finally freed and he instantly brought his hands to his nose, though he quickly pulled them away when he realized he was bleeding, just another layer of misery added on to this.

“You did good for me, Love.” Nicholas said gently, carding a hand through his hair. “Let’s hope you can keep it up, then we won’t have to do this longer than necessary.” He warned, and for once, Wren knew he should listen to him.

***

Time passed and he was slowly able to begin to eat again. He was so relieved to finally have a day where that awful tube wasn’t forced down his throat, kneeling at Nicholas’ side as always while he ate dinner.

“Love, look at me.” The man ordered at some point, and tiredly Wren turned his attention to him, still scowling though. His eyes widened as he realized Nicholas was holding out a piece of food to him, giving him a hesitant look. “Go ahead, I think you’ve finally earned it.” He said, a smug look on his face and Wren finally relented, leaning forward and taking the food, careful not to bite him.

He tried to savor the taste of having solid food again, even as he felt sick with himself for finally giving in. He wanted to fight, he wanted to struggle and snap and swear at him, but unfortunately, this was a battle that he’d lost. He’d hate to admit it but humiliation hurt so much less than being force fed like that and he’d do anything to avoid it happening again- even if it meant playing the part of Nicholas’ obedient little lapdog.

[acnelli]

A Moment of Truth

My second entry for Ron’s Chessboard Fest 2021.

Pairing: Ron/Harry

Rating: T

Prompt 13: A Moment of Truth

Summary: Harry ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. But the Boy-Who-Lived is determined to make it right again.

Thanks again to TheUltimateUndesirable and to the best beta @accio-broom!

This story is kind of a follow up to the fic Thinking About You by Solstice Muse. You don't have to read that story to understand mine, but I highly recommend getting on LiveJournal and befriending Solstice Muse for their amazing stories. Pure talent, believe me! I also got permission from the author to write my story based on theirs.

You can also read this story on AO3 & FFN.

Harry wondered if he had ever felt more alone in his life as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. If he would’ve thought about it hard enough, he might’ve remembered several instances where he felt just as lonely, but Harry simply didn’t possess the strength right now.

Ron left him.

The  thing he would miss the most left him, and the only person he could blame for it was himself. It took the better part of the last two weeks for Harry to realise it and all of yesterday to really accept that ugly truth.

The day Ron had walked out of their flat was nothing but a giant blur. He had drunk himself into a stupor, and if the broken mirrors were any indication, he pretty much had lost it. When he woke up the next morning, violently retching into the toilet, he called in sick and just went to bed again.

Although he had gone to work the following days, he floo called his PR manager, telling Liam to cancel all events for the time being, offering a half-arsed explanation and reminding him that it was  his  job to make up stories for him.

Harry had appeared at work as early as possible and left for home when the cleaning staff threw him out of his office. He didn’t want to return to the vacant flat, Ron-free and, therefore, absolutely miserable. But he was also trying to avoid Arthur, Percy and Hermione. Especially, Hermione.

Harry’s favourite pastime these last two weeks had been to curse and blame Hermione for all of this. She had obviously waited outside that day, escorting Ron to her parents’ place where she lived at the moment. Harry had watched them through their living room window as they walked hand in hand to the next apparation point.

Everything had been fine, after all, hadn’t it? Taking his manager’s advice to feed the monster to protect his actual private life and his loved ones from the press, he had found his celebrity life rather comfortable and even enjoyable. After years of Harry having been announced to be Bachelor of the Year, rumours started to form about why he had still been single. Together with his manager, he worked out a way to lure the press away from the truth, and there hardly had been an instance anymore where Harry wasn’t accompanied by one beautiful witch or another. Events and parties full of photographers did not bother him anymore as long as they only captured him socialising and having fun. Almost every day, the papers had a story to tell about him, but never about who he really had gone home to. Never about Harry being gay and him being madly in love with his best mate.

Most of the time, he concentrated on this feeling of betrayal and silently cursed Ron and Hermione for wanting him to come out officially. Didn’t they see how intrusive and destructive the press had been all his life? Didn’t they see how dangerous this could be for Ron? For himself?

But deep-down, Harry knew it wasn’t like that. Ron would never demand Harry come out. The only thing Ron wanted from him was the freedom to live his own life out in the open. It had been a perfect situation for Harry these past months; working, going to parties and then coming home to Ron.

But for Ron, it hadn’t been perfect.

Harry remembered that horrible night when he came home from some Ministry ball, only to find a note telling him Ron went out with Hermione to some Muggle gay club in London and that he doesn’t have to stay up should he come home earlier than Ron.

Shame and guilt threatened to choke Harry when he thought about his terrible actions that night. Harry had seen red the second he read the words  Muggle gay club, immediately assuming some dirty fuck will try to steal his Ron.

When he finally found them, he watched Ron and Hermione dancing like there was no tomorrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but like they had the time of their lives. He watched Ron having fun, smiling like Harry hadn’t seen him smile in a very long time. He watched as Ron got approached by a very handsome Muggle and Hermione finding herself another dance partner, winking at Ron. He watched Ron turn the man down. And he stopped watching when that fucker ignored it and tried to kiss him. Before Ron had the chance to shove him away, Harry forced himself between them and snarled into the muggle’s face to fuck off, seconds away from beating the shite-eating grin out of him.

Harry knew now that this night must have been the turning point for Ron because after screaming at Hermione for luring Ron into that gay club, he completely lost it on his boyfriend. They had a terrible row that night, but Ron had forgiven him once more.

All feelings of betrayal got soon replaced by guilt. Over and over again, he recalled Ron’s wounded expression every time Harry asked him to not join him for one party or another, Ron’s anger and hurt when Harry exploded on him the few times Ron had gone out for the night without him or asked more than accusing questions afterwards. He imagined himself at these parties, having fun, drinking and talking about Quidditch most of the time. And then he imagined Ron, sitting alone in their flat, waiting for Harry to come home, just as alone as he was now. Ron wasn’t happy anymore, but Harry had refused to listen to his words and see Ron’s misery.

He suddenly hated himself — not just hurting his lover but also his best mate. Harry most likely ruined the most wonderful and perfect thing in his life and probably killed any chance to get Ron back. Maybe he even bollocked up their friendship for good, just like he had with all his other friendships if all the declined Birthday invitations Ron sent out before their break-up were any indication. Hermione always had been very vocal about what she thought about Harry’s treatment of Ron, and he just had been too deliberately blind and busy to notice everyone turning away from Harry.

That’s why he lay in bed. All alone. On his Birthday.

The only guest he had today had been Ginny, bringing him a little basket with some snacks Mrs Weasley prepared for him. She had been smart enough to not wish him a Happy Birthday.

While Ron hadn’t asked him to come out of the closet, Harry wanted to keep Ron inside it. He should’ve known better than anyone what it means to be hidden away for being different from the rest, for a dirty secret not allowed to get out. This comparison with the Dursleys made him hate himself even more.

If he wanted to have a real shot at getting Ron and his friends back, Harry had to clean up his own life first. Slowly, he got out of bed, determined to get a long overdue shower. Before he went into the bathroom, though, Harry summoned some parchment and a quill, writing a short note and a rather long letter (for Harry’s standards anyway).

He quickly delivered the note to his manager’s assistant through a short floo call, telling her it was urgent.

His owl Athena nibbled on some owl treat he gave her while Harry tied the letter to one of her claws. “Alright, Athena,” he said, his voice unusually wavering, “please, deliver this letter as fast as possible, okay? And make sure Hermione reads it.”

*******

Ron was well aware of Hermione’s worrying glances in his direction.

They both sat on Hermione’s bed, with their backs leaning against the headboard as Ron distracted himself with the wonder that is a television, and his best friend unsurprisingly reading a book beside him. He was glad she didn’t force him to talk about his feelings right now.

Over the last two weeks, Hermione had gone out of her way to keep Ron from thinking and worrying about Harry. An impossible task, really, but she did such a great job of trying to cheer him up and even succeeding sometimes that Ron often felt overwhelmed by the need to hug her.

Today though, Hermione knew Ron couldn’t be kept from thinking about Harry. It was the last day of July, after all, and Harry’s Birthday. And it would be the first Birthday since Harry turned 17 that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be with him. It would be the first Birthday in the last four years that Harry and Ron weren’t a couple anymore.

In the moment, sadness and hurt seemed to choke him, and he wondered if Harry had even considered them a couple in the first place. Right at the beginning, when they started dating after some unbelievably awkward confessions of feelings, it had been like a dream come true. Finally, the times of mutual pining had been over, replaced by a sense of such content and happiness that Ron often had woken up in the morning, sure it all just had been a dream. A second later, though, with Harry’s arm around him, reminded Ron that it was genuine.

Despite Ron missing Harry terribly, he knew it was the right decision to move out. For the sake of his own sanity and happiness, he had to leave Harry. Ron knew that Harry loved him more than anyone else. It had taken him a long time to realise that sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Hermione wrote a short letter to Harry this morning, wishing him a Happy Birthday. They both signed it, deciding it would be best if they sent one letter together. The other day he floo called Ginny, asking her to check on Harry today because Ron knew that his best mate wasn’t fine. None of all these parties, charity Quidditch matches and Ministry galas could change that. At least, not after two weeks. A very selfish part of Ron hoped it never would.

Ron was about to suggest to Hermione to grab some ice cream when Harry’s owl tapped on the window glass, wildly flapping her wings. Instead of letting Athena in, Hermione looked at Ron with her eyebrows furrowed but with a questioning look directed at him.

Letting out a deep sigh, Ron stood up and opened the window. The owl flew inside, flying straight towards Ron’s opened and still not fully unpacked trunk. Landing gracefully on top of one of Ron’s bright orange Canon t-shirts, she lifted the claw the letter was tied to and hooted loudly at…Hermione?

“Well, it’s yours, apparently,” Ron said, pointing at the cream-coloured envelope. “Maybe he just wants to say thank you for the Birthday wishes.”

“Ron, you know th–“

“Please, just open it, Hermione.”

Her brown eyes held the kind of anxiety he felt too, but she still freed Athena from the letter and gave her an owl treat. Apparently, the bird got the order to make sure Hermione read the letter, as Ron knew that she would’ve been long gone after receiving her treat.

“Are you really sure, Ron?” Hermione asked, looking up from the unusually thick letter, “Will you promise me to not floo over, right away? Regardless of what that letter might say.”

He slowly nodded at her, his gaze fixed on Harry’s letter. This certainly wasn’t a simple ‘Thank You’ note, and the fact Harry wrote such a long letter at all scared him to the point of pure panic.

“Please, open the letter, Hermione.” If it was because of his panicked voice or Hermione’s own curiosity what the letter might say, Ron couldn’t tell, but she finally opened the envelope, took out the note and held it in a way both of them could read it.

Dear Hermione,  

First of all, I’m sorry for any potential annoyance Athena might have caused, but I told her not to leave before you have read this letter.  

What I have to tell you is crucial for both you and Ron. I know you will show Ron this letter right away; maybe he is even reading it with you right now. But this letter is actually primarily for you. What I want to tell Ron, I have to tell him in person, and maybe after today, he’ll give me a chance to hear me out.

Hermione, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for all the reasons you expect me to be sorry for, but I’m also sorry for letting our friendship crumble and fall apart. I had been so angry at you for stealing Ron. Stealing him, like he is some kind of possession to lose. The last two weeks, I was consumed by this unreasonable rage that I thought was gone after Tom Riddle’s soul left me forever. Yes, it took me two weeks to finally realise that you just were a good friend to Ron.  

Because a good friend is what you are. And I know you tried to be a good friend to me for the longest time. I took you for granted. Just like I took Ron for granted and everyone else I turned away from during last year. I turned into a horrible person without noticing it, or rather, refusing to acknowledge it. And because of that, I also turned into an awful friend.  

I could blame many things for my behaviour, like fame or the press or my manager or my childhood. But after taking a hard look at myself, I concluded that I can’t blame anyone or anything for this but me.  

Before I even try to make it right with all of you, before I can look into Ron’s eyes again, I have to sort out my life first. Actually, I’ll start to do this today.  

Both of you have to up your security. Use any charm you can think of. I doubt you will be in any serious danger, but I have no idea what kind of reaction this will cause. It’s best if you stay away from Diagon Alley tomorrow. I won’t mention Ron’s name, of course, but expect journalists trying to corner the two of you for interviews.  

Do you remember the beach cottage we celebrated my 19th Birthday? I will spend the whole day there tomorrow. Would you and Ron join me? I have a lot to say.  

Love,

Harry

A heavy silence fell over Ron and Hermione when they both finished reading Harry’s letter. Hermione slowly folded the parchment and laid it down on her nightstand before looking up at Ron with wide eyes.

Ron didn’t know what to say, let alone what to think of this. Harry did not outright say it, but the indication was clear enough. Whether he’ll write an official statement or give a press conference, Harry planned to come out today.

Wasn’t this what Ron wanted? For Harry to not give a flying fuck what the rest of the world would think about him? For finally being able to live a life out in the open?

But instead of feeling relieved and happy, he felt an old terror creeping up his neck. Like in a trance, he sat down on the bed again and stared at Harry’s letter. Ron ran his hands over his face and groaned from the overwhelming sensation of guilt and anxiety washing over him. Did he force Harry to do this? Did he force Harry to expose himself to the nasty side of the public?

Soft hands tugged on Ron’s arms until he was forced to look up. Hermione knelt in front of him, a determined look in her warm, brown eyes. “What do you want to do now?” She asked, lightly caressing Ron’s cheek.

“Well, the letter was for you…” Ron joked, his attempt to lighten the mood earned him one of Hermione’s trademark eye-rolls. “Fuck, Hermione, I have no idea. What if Harry is just doing this because he’s hurt?”

“Harry always acts impulsively,” Hermione answered in a thoughtful tone, “but his words sound sincere to me. And as he said in his letter, he really needs to sort out his life.”

“He shouldn’t have to come out though for that.”

“No, he doesn’t have to do this. But for his own sake, I really think it’s the right way to go.”

“I can try to get a hold of him and check how he’s doing if you want me to,” Hermione added when Ron didn’t respond.

“You would do that?” Ron looked down at her once more, feeling grateful to have Hermione by his side.

“Of course,” Hermione stood up from her kneeling position to sit beside Ron and took his hand into hers, “But Ron, just because Harry is doing this doesn’t mean you have to go back to him. I’ll support you, no matter how you decide, but please promise me you won’t let yourself get treated like that again. I don’t want to see you getting hurt like that anymore.”

He smiled at her and softly squeezed her hand. “I promise, Hermione. But I think I can’t just continue as if nothing happened. Not so soon, anyway.”

“Good,” Hermione stood up and went over to Ron’s suitcase where Athena still sat, looking expectantly at them, “Come on, Athena. I bring you back to Harry.” The owl hooted at her as if in protest but still flew up to Hermione’s right shoulder.

“Hermione?” Ron said before she could disapparate.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

*******

The press room of his manager’s company resembled a cozy living room rather than the place he held all his important meetings. Aside from the chairs for the reporters and photographers and the speaker’s stand at the front, it was decorated like a room he would suspect to find in some Lord’s castle. It had an impressive fireplace, a golden chandelier and was decorated with several large paintings and fancy looking rugs.

As Harry took a quick look into the press room from the door that led to Liam’s office, he saw that some news outlets had sent their reporters early. They clearly expected big news from him, considering the last and only press conference he gave had been the one right after the war. Harry was sure they thought he would announce an engagement. It was the obvious conclusion, and if he wouldn’t have been in such a grave mood, he maybe could’ve found it amusing to imagine their faces after he gave his statement.

You’ll see their reactions soon enough, Harry thought.

Despite what he was going to do in less than ten minutes, he felt strangely calm. It could’ve been the years of experience handling the press, but Harry knew this wasn’t the case. Talking about the Quidditch Cup final or the latest decision of the Wizengamot was one thing. Telling the world he was gay was something else entirely.

No, Harry’s calmness didn’t come from years of navigating the press, but rather Hermione’s visit an hour ago. She didn’t say much, just that Ron wanted him to know he didn’t have to do this. And she made it very clear this outing wasn’t a safe ticket to get Ron back. He told her that all he had said to her in the letter was true and that he needed to do this for himself more than anything else.

Hermione had simply nodded and turned around to floo home, but she had stopped in her tracks.

“Be safe,” She said softly, without turning around. Not waiting for an answer, she stepped inside the fireplace, leaving behind the orange flames dancing inside it.

Hope sparked inside his heart because, obviously, Ron and Hermione still cared and tried to look out for him. Even if he ruined every chance of a relationship with Ron, not all seemed lost considering Harry’s friendship with his two best friends.

“Are you ready?” Liam’s voice came from behind him. The short, grey-haired wizard stepped up beside Harry, looking up at him with his ever-professional mask of indifference.

“Ready,” Harry answered, testing his voice, glad it sounded strong and unwavering.

Without missing a beat, Harry’s manager opened the dark, wooden door, and the two of them walked to the podium. Several cameras flashed already when Harry cast  Sonorous  at himself. The room was filled with at least one journalist and a photographer from every news outlet in Magical Britain.

The news of Harry Potter being gay was going to spread like wildfire.

“Good evening,” Harry started to speak, his amplified voice quieting down the low chatter of the audience. He planned to make this short, wishing to be back at his flat already.

“I’m here to inform you that I won’t be attending any official events for the rest of the year.” The voices grew louder again, but Liam stopped the chatter by simply raising his hand. The way this short man managed crowds never ceased to amaze Harry.

“This is simply a way for me to get my life back on track, and I know I need this time for myself in the upcoming months. I-”

“Mr Potter,” Rita Skeeter interrupted, her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill and a parchment hovering in the air beside her, “Does your-”

“Mrs Skeeter, I don’t remember my manager giving you permission to ask questions,” Harry cut her off, trying very hard to not let her admire his middle finger. “And if you wish to attend this press conference until the end, I advise you to not interrupt me again.”

Raising an eyebrow at him but otherwise remaining silent, Rita sat down again, her quill still scribbling wildly. Harry knew he would pay for this. He was just about to give her the perfect ammunition, after all.

“I could just leave it at that. It would definitely prevent my manager from being forced to read through a lot of hate-mail, and it would spare me from having to hide from the public for a while. But these past months, my relationship with the press and official events destroyed everything I really hold dear. And no, I don’t blame you for this. You intruded on my life more than once, but what I have let my life become is entirely my fault. That’s why I have to make the reason for my retreat public. Before I reconcile with the people I hurt, I have to make it right with myself, first and foremost.”

Complete silence settled over the room. Not a single whisper could be heard, and even Rita Skeeter’s quill stopped scribbling, simply hovering beside the witch.

Harry closed his eyes for a brief second as his heartbeat threatened to beat out of his chest. It was now or never, so Harry took one last deep breath, and then, he finally told the world the truth.

“I’m gay.”

*******

A gentle breeze greeted Ron and Hermione when they apparated to the beach Harry mentioned in his letter. The slight wind felt like a relief compared to the stuffy heat in the city. Hermione could only shake her head at Ron for complaining about the hot days, given how rare they were in London.

They could already see the small cottage from their apparation point, the security charms still allowing them to notice it and enter its wards. It was a short walk to the small wooden cabin, but it was enough time for Ron to break out in a sweat.

Yesterday night they had heard about Harry’s press conference on the radio. The news station recited his speech word by word before analyzing it, also word by word, and taking wild guesses on which wizards were most likely to be a past or present love interest of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry’s words kept repeating in Ron’s mind, making him feel guilty, relieved and sad, all at the same time. More than anything else, he wanted to know how Harry felt about all of this, but at the same time, he feared what Harry might expect from Ron now.

With a gentle wave of his wand, Ron alerted Harry of their presence, and a second later, he walked out of the cottage. His black hair looked even wilder than usual, fitting his red-rimmed eyes and the wrinkled shirt he was wearing.

Despite Harry's ruffled appearance, Ron immediately felt a pang of deep longing inside his chest. All he wanted to do right now was to run his hands over Harry's five o’clock shadow and kiss away the dark bags under these brilliantly green eyes.

Instead, he just stood in front of Harry, willing his heart and mind to slow down.

After what felt like an awfully long time of awkward silence, Harry cleared his throat. “Would- would you like to come in?”

“I won't come in with you,” Hermione answered, and before Harry could protest, she turned to Ron, “We'll meet at Neville’s at 7?”

“But Hermione, I want to talk to you too.”

“I know, Harry,” Hermione looked back at him, her lips tightly pressed together, “But I think you should talk to Ron first. Alone.”

Ron could see Harry didn't expect this. He probably prepared a whole speech for Hermione and was now at a loss for words after her announcement.

“We will talk, just the two of us. And I will try to rebuild our friendship, regardless of what Ron might decide for himself.” Hermione paused for a brief moment and took a step closer towards Harry. “But should Ron decide to give your relationship another chance, remember that our friendship will stand and fall on how you treat him. I won't watch one of my best friends hurt the other again.”

And as if to make a point, she took her wand out of its holster, gripping it tightly. Without waiting for Harry's response, though, Hermione quickly squeezed Ron's hand before turning around and disapparating with a quiet plop.

“I really wanted to talk to her,” Harry sighed, weaving a hand through his unruly hair.

“How are you?” Ron asked instead of saying something about Hermione's decision to keep out of this conversation.

Apparently surprised about Ron's sudden change of topic, Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression. A second later, though, his gaze softened, and Ron squirmed under the longing Harry's eyes held.

“Better than I thought I would be” Harry took a small step closer.

“You didn’t have to-”

“I know,” Harry quickly interrupted him rather loudly, and with a much quieter voice, he said, “I know. But I wanted to. I needed to do this.”

Ron nodded and stared at his feet, not knowing what else he could say right now.

“Would you like to sit in the backyard? I have some beer and coke in the fridge.”

“Sure. I'll take the coke.” Ron didn't trust himself to not throw all resolve into the wind if he drank something stronger than Butterbeer. Booze combined with Harry's toned legs on full display on this hot summer day? Ron wouldn't take any chances.

Five minutes later, the two of them found themselves sitting on the small porch, overlooking the ocean. The sea was calm today, and the sound of the waves lulled them into a companionable silence.

Ron couldn't tell how much time had passed when Harry finally started to speak. He told Ron about his past two weeks—all the feelings he went through, from fiery anger over crippling guilt to unbelievable longing. He talked about how much he had hated himself and how this feeling shrank to a tiny flame after yesterday's coming out. And when Harry looked at Ron, telling him he was sorry and he was well aware Ron most likely couldn't see a meaning anymore behind his apologies, a single tear escaped Harry’s eye.

Ron wanted nothing more than to brush it away, but he didn't. Instead, he braced himself for what he needed to tell Harry.

“Harry, I-,” Ron sat up a little straighter, making sure to look Harry in the eyes, “I need time. I need time for myself, at least, for a while. I realised that I stopped being my own person in the last months of our relationship, and like you, I have to find my way back to myself.”

“I obviously want you back, Ron,” Harry's shoulders slumped down a little from the disappointment, but at the same time, Ron thought he saw something like resolve shining behind his green eyes, “But I'll be happy as long as you let me be a part of your life. Maybe- maybe we could just hang out for a while. Just as friends. Go to the pub, watch a Quidditch match, stuff like that.”

Ron gave him a small smile. “That sounds good.”

They didn't say anything else after that. The sun wasn't ready to set yet, but its late afternoon glow gave the sea a beautiful reflection.

At some point, Harry's hand that lay between them on the wooden bench accidentally bumped against Ron's. Harry jolted and wanted to pull his hand away, but Ron stopped him. He softly grazed over Harry's wrist with his fingertips, eliciting a small sigh from him. Ron watched as his hand interlaced their fingers; Harry's olive scarred skin against his pale, freckled and equally scarred skin. It was a beautiful sight.

They kept sitting this way until it was time for Ron to go, just staring out into the sea and holding hands.

*******

Resisting Harry Potter had never been easy for him, but nowadays, everything his best mate did seemed to drive Ron crazy.

Christmas was a week away, and a month ago, Ron and Harry started dating again.

One day, after attending one of Ginny's Quidditch games, they had gone to a small, cozy Muggle Café, trying to warm themselves up from the cold November weather. The Polyjuice Potion they used to disguise themselves from the watching crowd in the Quidditch stands had long worn off, but a rather persistent strand of blonde hair on Harry’s head refused to turn back into its usual raven black state.

Ron had reached over their tiny round table to point it out to Harry but instead almost knocked his glasses off in the process. They burst into laughter, and Ron didn't know if it had been the rush of cheering for his sister today or something else entirely, but for some reason, he had chosen this moment to ask Harry out on a proper date.

And it could have been all in Ron's head, but he failed to remember if he had ever seen Harry smile as he had at that moment.

Without further discussing it, they had kept it slow. Their dates had involved a lot of kissing again, but they always had gone home alone in the end; Harry to his flat and Ron to the tiny apartment he currently shared with Hermione since early September.

Now though, they stood just outside of The Leaky Cauldron, which Hannah and Neville reopened today. After taking over the pub from Tom, they had renovated the large terrace, surprising most of Tom's old guests that it even existed.

For the reopening, they had decorated it with fairy lights and some plants that didn't mind the season’s cold weather. High, round tables stood everywhere where the guests could have some drinks and snacks.

Together with Hermione and her new boyfriend Martin, they stood around one of these tables, drinking the most delicious hot chocolate Ron ever had. While Hermione was busy introducing Martin to their friends, Harry was busy running his hand over Ron's arse.

From their place right in front of the wall of the Leaky Cauldron, they were able to observe everything, but no one was able to see how Harry’s hand seemed to have found a new home in one of Ron's back pockets.

After about an hour, Ron finally had enough. Before Harry could sneak his hand there again, Ron grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind one of Neville's monster plants which happened to be the perfect hiding place.

“You noticed all the bloody journalists out there, right?” Ron asked but clearly didn't expect an answer from Harry as he kissed him as he had wanted to all night. Harry didn't miss a beat and pulled Ron tightly against him, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

Harry moaned into Ron's mouth when Ron sucked at his lower lip, making him want to apparate home with Harry right away.

As Harry set to kiss Ron's neck, it was now the redhead’s turn to bite back a groan. “Let's- let's- Oh Merlin, Harry.”

“Let's what?” Harry whispered as his hands slowly wandered down Ron's body.

“Let's go home,” Ron said in a breathy voice, lips swollen from kissing, “Let's say goodbye to Hannah and Neville and then go home.”

Harry shook his head as he stepped away from Ron, but tugging at his hand as he went into the direction of the party guests.

“Before we go home, let's show them,” Harry stepped up to Ron again, this time just kissing him softly on the lips, “Only if you're okay with it, of course.”

“But you already had your moment of truth. Everyone knows you're gay.”

“They don't know about us, though,” Harry said, softly stroking Ron's cheek, “And besides, my real moment of truth had been when I apologized to you and our friends. The public outing was nothing compared to admitting I had been a shit friend and partner.”

“You know, I don't care about the press knowing about us, but you don't have to prove anything to me, Harry.”

“I think I do. Let's show everyone the wizard that won over The-Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry said, and without another word, he led them into the crowd again.

Nobody was paying attention to them, despite the great Harry Potter standing in the middle of the expansive terrace, holding hands with his best mate. Mistletoe hung from above them, and Harry grinned at the coincidence.

“Doesn't seem like we have much of an audience,” Ron stated as he observed all the party guests who were too busy chatting and drinking, “But I think one of the fucking paparazzi has spotted us.”

“Do you think that's enough, Weasley? Simply holding hands in front of a paparazzi?”

Ron was well aware Harry was daring him, but Ron had been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, after all. Never breaking eye contact with Harry, Ron put his thumb and middle finger inside his mouth and whistled so loudly, everyone startled out of their conversation and turning their heads towards them.

And without missing a beat, Harry put his arms around Ron's neck and kissed him. Ron heard surprised gasps and camera flashes and cheering, but all he could focus on were Harry's lips and his heart beating so fast he was sure everyone could hear it.

As they broke the kiss, Ron put his forehead against Harry's and grinned like the bloody, lovesick fool he knew he looked like right now.

“Take us home, Potter,” Ron whispered, feeling freer than ever before in his life.

They never made it back to the party.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 30

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Lan QiRen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week oh god it’s only gonna get worse

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29

They watch the lanterns from a rooftop terrace.

The inn itself is large and lovely. The front faces the main road, which crosses YiLing east to west, leading directly to the Immortal Mountain. The back opens into an enclosed garden, the tallow trees awash in autumn colors, hiding whatever unsightly neighbors may exist beyond their red-gold canopy of branches. It is difficult to fully conceal the haphazardness of YiLing, but the designer of the inn had cleverly used the landscape to obscure as much of the town as possible. One could easily imagine, if occupying the rooms and balconies facing the garden, that no such thing as overcrowded winehouses or street markets could exist in its vicinity.

In short, it is not a type of place where the Lan Sect would ever attempt to secure lodgings, nor would XiChen ever walk into its front halls of his own volition.

Nie MingJue has no such reservations. The innkeeper’s insistence that the terrace can only be accessed by the guests of the inn falls on deaf ears, and is soon completely silenced by Nie MingJue’s contemptuous glare. A simple glint of gold is enough to make XiChen’s Lan Sect uniform invisible. In moments, they are both personally escorted to the roof of the building.

The terrace is not large, and they are not alone. XiChen tucks himself into a corner overlooking the street, MingJue’s bulk easily blocking him from the sight of other patrons, preventing any unwanted attention. The towering mass of the Immortal Mountain is a black, indistinct shape to the west, a silent guardian watching over YiLing. The first lanterns are always released from the Emperor’s palace, and they seem to have arrived just in time to see them rising from a pitch black void between the earth and heavens, resembling handfuls of fading stars hanging low in the sky.

XiChen had assumed that YiLing may prove itself less disordered when seen from above, the way one can only see a large pattern from a distance. He is wrong. There truly is no sense or structure to be seen in its layout. Not a single street is free of someone shouting their wares, intricate roof ridge decorations arch next to weathered tiles that had long needed replacing, stubborn maples grow wherever they can find a spot of dirt and a flood of rain water.

He has not yet decided if he is pleased or disappointed by the discovery, when lanterns from YiLing follow those released from the Immortal Mountain, painting the town in light and color, chasing the darkness away. XiChen has seen the Lantern Festival many times in Gusu, twice during an unplanned stay in MoLing, and once during a particularly long Sect Leader conference in LanLing. The LanLing Jin grandiosity is difficult to match anywhere in the Empire, but XiChen has never seen so many lanterns at once, transforming night into day, hardly a slice of sky visible between them.

The parade traveling the street below them swells, loud and cheerful, the sheer profusion of chaos and noise impossible to ignore, even with such an impressive light show directly above them.

XiChen turns to MingJue, intending to ask if YiLing truly holds a different procession each night of the festival. The idea still seems extravagant to him, even if it is the Emperor’s birthday. But MingJue is looking at neither the lanterns, nor the parade below, his attentive gaze and half-formed smile focused entirely on XiChen.

XiChen forgets what he had meant to ask, and looks away again, his face heating.

They are standing close, to keep their distance from the other spectators gathered on the terrace. It is only a handful of guests, their voices indistinct murmurs, easily drowned out by the clamor from the street.

XiChen does not like feeling flustered, especially in the presence of strangers.

“Sect Leader--“

“You have asked me to call you by your name,” Nie MingJue says, his voice low, “and I have obeyed. But no matter how many times I ask, you will not do the same.”

XiChen folds his hands in his sleeves, to keep them steady and out of sight. The only sources of light on the terrace are the small, paper lamps decorating the inn roof, and even they only cast a reddish, muted glow. XiChen fervently hopes that their glow is faint enough to conceal the color in his cheeks.

“It would be improper,” he says.

Even as he speaks, he inwardly cringes at the absurdity of the words.

How hypocritical of him, to call such familiarity improper. Did he not allow the man to hold his hand whenever he wished? Had he not welcomed each advance with a smile? Can he not still feel the press of Nie MingJue’s palm on the small of his back?

And yet, regardless of how imprudent all his earlier behavior may be, he must draw a line somewhere. If not for the sake of propriety, then for the sake of his own sanity.  

"Would it be less improper if I were to speak plainly of my admiration?”

Oh, XiChen thinks, breath leaving him in a rush.

Although this is something he had long suspected, to have it spoken out loud, to have it confirmed in such direct fashion, seems to be more than he had been prepared to handle. How can something be so thrilling, and yet cause so much confusion and misery?

“Even if you were to speak plainly,” XiChen says, struggling to keep his voice firm, “You would still be the General of the Emperor’s army, with duties to perform and a Sect to lead. And I-- I would still be the future leader of the Lan Sect. We should not speak of impossible things.”

“This is your only objection? Not my temper or disposition, but the circumstances of our individual positions?”

Mortified, XiChen imagines that his face must be as red as the lamps decorating the roof.

“You are being rather bold,” he says, “but I have found no other cause for disapproval.”

Nie MinJue falls silent. XiChen returns to watching the parade without truly seeing it, the trembling agitation in his chest refusing to settle.

Unexpectedly, he feels guilty, as if the circumstances which prevent him from speaking just as directly are somehow of his own making. The General of the Emperor’s army may bestow his admiration liberally, and he may do so as boldly as he pleases. Ultimately, Nie MingJue has nothing to lose. A small bit of lost pride in having to face rejection can be nothing to someone so highly esteemed. But XiChen, destined to lead a disgraced Sect, can never be so bold. The small bit of dignity he possesses might be pitiful and tattered, but he cannot put it aside, regardless of his heart’s desires.

A flash of white in the crowd is a welcome distraction, but even so, it takes him some time to recognize the Lan Sect robes, and even longer to realize why the sight of them is so jarring.

It is only one set of robes. One single disciple moving through the crowds, when uncle had been more than explicit in his instructions. They are always to travel in pairs, regardless of circumstances. There are a few places in the Empire where a lone Lan disciple may pass unscathed, but YiLing has never been one of them.

“XiChen?”

“I think something is wrong,” XiChen says, “that is Lan YunLi, and he should not be here. Not this late in the evening, and not alone.”

“Come,” Nie MingJue does not hesitate, “let us catch him before he disappears.”

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Three: Chapter Eleven

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The silence continued into the dawn. No one got much sleep after Littlepaw’s vision. They were all afraid that they would be next.

Laurelclaw tried his best to stay positive, he really did. He pulled up as many hopeful, happy thoughts as he could while standing guard outside of Littlepaw’s den, ready to jump in and shake her out of another nightmare at the drop of a feather. Flyfang had tried to tell him to rest, but there was a silent understanding between the two that neither of them was going to sleep again when Littlepaw was at risk of falling back into whatever horrible space she had been in. Flyfang had conceded and gone into the den to be closer to her half-apprentice. When Laurelclaw glanced in occasionally, she was curled around Littlepaw’s tightly balled-up body, watching her with exhausted fear. He couldn’t blame her.

It wasn’t just that which made him fail to keep a happy image in his head. All of his happy images were of his family, the Plage – his mother, father, goofy deputy and snarky former mentor, among all the others, walking together, sharing jokes, watching the waves of the ocean rear and collapse, stretching their foam as far as it could go up the beach. The sense of companionship and confidence. Security in their strength as they stood together.

All of it suddenly felt so pointless, in the grand scheme of things. So temporary.

Laurelclaw fought against the dread that came with every reminder that his family was not going to a happy afterlife. He failed to keep it down. It soaked into his chest and stomach, sticking against the walls of his insides, making him sick. He shivered with nausea many times throughout the night.

The sun barely made it through the thick canopy above the makeshift camp. Laurelclaw hardly noticed it was daylight until Flyfang emerged from the den and shook out her fur. She wordlessly went off into the woods, tail dragging on the ground after her.

Everyone was awake and outside, sitting uncomfortably in silence, before Flyfang returned, carrying prey. Beetlefoot went with her to retrieve everything else she had caught, but there were still no words exchanged. They all formed a ring again and picked listlessly at their meals, nibbling without tasting.

Laurelclaw was absorbed in his own thoughts, but the tension eventually became too much to ignore. He followed his urge to say something.

“You know…” he started, and winced when everyone looked at him like he had shouted. “Imagining everyone’s reaction to all of this, it’s… it can be a little funny, I think.”

Silence. Every face was baffled. Laurelclaw internally berated himself and tried again.  

“It’s just me thinking about my mom, really,” he said while fighting off shakiness in his voice. “She’d- she would want to go to sleep and find StarClan and fight it to the death herself. She’d leap at the opportunity. But my dad, he’d run. He’d take the entire family with him – the whole Clan, probably – and flee as far as he could go. He was always a little timid like that.”

The silence calmed a little. Laurelclaw could see the others considering their own families.

“I think…” Flyfang’s eyes lifted up towards the treetops, contemplating. “I think the Marish would panic. My sisters, maybe they wouldn’t get it. They’d think it’s some monster from a story, something easy to beat on your way to becoming a hero. It’d be exciting for them.” Her voice lowered a little, tightened. “I’d prefer for them to think of it that way.”

Surprisingly, Beetlefoot spoke next. “I know the Fleet would all follow Redheart’s idea to get the entire Clan out of the Territory, if they could. Though everyone where I was born is… rather traditional. They prefer the aspects. But they still cling to them going to StarClan for their ‘good behavior’ and ‘righteous worship’. If they knew that all their praying and piousness meant nothing, they might just fling themselves into the river. Leap into the mouth of the beast. Get it over with as soon as possible.”

Laurelclaw looked at Beetlefoot, a little startled. It was the most he had ever said about himself. That tiny, weak cynicism in him remarked wryly about how of course it was unhappy and dour, coming from Beetlefoot. He told that part to hush and be nice.

“My mom wouldn’t believe it,” Littlepaw said, a bit muted and flat. She wasn’t looking at anyone. “She’d find every excuse under the sun to reason it away as a mistake or a lie.”

“Hard thing to convince anyone about,” Mistface said.

Laurelclaw couldn’t help some desperation in his voice. “Isn’t there anything we can do? We could warn everyone, right? Spread the word?”

Redheart sighed, more in a world-weary way than in annoyance with him (thankfully). “I’ve wanted to run around the Territory and tell everyone the truth so many times, Laurelclaw. But the Runagate’s been doing that for generations now, and they’ve barely gotten anywhere. We’re not the first ones to know about StarClan. We probably won’t be the last.”

“I don’t know how much we could do, anyway,” Greyleaf said. His claws were deeply sunk into the soft ground. “Who would believe a deputy on the run, and who would believe a healer, of all cats?”

“But Littlepaw-“ started Laurelclaw, but Redheart shook her head.

“She’s not a seer anymore,” she said. “And so many of our actual seers are fooled, StarClan can easily lie to them and call us insane. Littlepaw got lucky with the Runagate visiting her and StarClan trying to talk to her again, it seems.”

“‘Lucky’ is a real subjective word,” Mistface remarked. “Ain’t sure how lucky it is to see what y’all see.”

“About as lucky as bearing witness to a murder when no one else was around, I suppose,” Beetlefoot said darkly.

“You aren’t wrong.” Greyleaf looked down at his paws and carefully retracted his claws, grimacing. “It’s a stroke of incredible fortune that any of you believed us to begin with. I mean…” He looked to his brother. “You didn’t at first, right? Even you?”

Mistface gave him a non-smile. “Thought you might’ve been crazy for a minute, yes.”

“And he’s my brother.” Greyleaf turned back to everyone else. “The thing is that, yeah, you all believed us, but you’re a smaller group with at least relatively open minds, and it still took a second to win you over. Telling a much larger crowd, or a couple of strangers you’ve never spoken to before, that’s going to be a lot harder to convince.”

“That’s the trouble with all of us,” Darkpelt said suddenly. “I’ve noticed it in my line of work. Cats like to follow along with the crowd because it makes us feel more secure, like somehow more cats means more logical thinking and correct choices. And we cling to any line of security we can get. If you were told a horrible truth, and someone in your group said ‘that’s nonsense!’, you’d be inclined to believe them. It’s safer for your sanity.”

“Then how did we all believe it?” Flyfang, despite her words, did not sound argumentative. She looked more puzzled than anything.

Darkpelt shifted to tuck her front paws underneath her chest and she shut her eyes. Her tone became contemplative. “For me, at least, it just makes sense. I’ve always believed that nothing is impossible, given how real StarClan seemed all my life. And the connections between Redheart and Greyleaf, especially the nightmares, made me far too curious to just pass them off as insane and leave it at that.” She opened her eyes and turned her head in Flyfang’s direction. “Like I said the other day, they have a completely bonkers story that no one would expect to be believed, except a nutter. But a nutter wouldn’t also have the story make sense if one stops to think about the logistics of it.”

“And you believed based on that?” Mistface asked, eyes half-closed as he regarded her doubtfully. 

“Better reason than just a blood connection,” Darkpelt said, with a jaunty nod at him. “You’d believe Greyleaf if he told you he was Derecho in physical form.”

Mistface, surprisingly, did not react with his usual flat irritation. Rather, he looked amused. “It’d make more sense for him to be Gelid, with everything about Gelid’s inevitability, relating to what we know now.”

“You’d make a better Gelid than me,” Greyleaf said.

“Or Brume,” Beetlefoot muttered. “Slow and fluffy as you are.”

Mistface gave a breathy laugh, and with that the air of the ring loosened and relaxed. Appetites returned, everyone now eating properly and with a little more enjoyment of their food. It was quiet again for a while, until Beetlefoot spoke up, almost quiet enough that Laurelclaw didn't hear him.

“You know, Brume and Gelid used to be the same aspect,” he murmured.

Littlepaw perked up immediately. “I thought I heard something like that when I was a kit. Who were they?”

Speaking a little louder and, rather nicely, almost friendlier, Beetlefoot looked at Littlepaw. “They were called Rime. He was the aspect of ice and fog, once. He split into two a long time ago. The Brae still pray to him, though, as if he hasn’t been halved.”

“That doesn’t make much sense,” Flyfang said. “How could he still exist and be two different aspects at the same time?”

“Nothing the Brae do makes sense.” Beetlefoot shook his head. “They’re reclusive idiots.”

“Sounds like the Marish,” Flyfang said, almost nostalgically. “I had to peal out of there when they had their backs turned. They don’t want anyone leaving or coming in.”

Mistface swallowed a mouse tail. “Y’all got more problems in your families than they’re worth, if you ask me.”

“Your brother is on the run because he’s immune to a monster's visions,” Flyfang said, giving him a sarcastic head tilt. “Don’t you talk on family.”

“He’s kind of right, though,” Laurelclaw offered. “I love the Plage, but they can be a lot to handle. They all keep pushing me to be a patroller in the Fleet.”

Littlepaw lifted a paw to hide a smile. “They’ve met you, right?”

“I say the same thing.” Laurelclaw sighed a bit dramatically, for humor’s sake. “I’m just good at taking hits, that’s all.”

“You would not be a good patroller,” said Beetlefoot. “They’re all eager for a fight.” He paused, considering. “Though you cut an intimidating enough figure. You do have a chip in your ear.”

Laurelclaw lowered his head, a little embarrassed. “That was just an accident in my assessment.”

Littlepaw could not hide her smile now. “Have you been in a single real fight at all?”

“…No.” Laurelclaw’s ears (including the chipped one) started to burn, but Littlepaw’s laugh - quiet and small, but genuine - cooled them down again. Flyfang shook her head in mock disappointment. Even Redheart smiled.

There was a lull in the conversation again, but it was nice now – Laurelclaw could see everyone’s relief at the lightening of the mood as they exchanged friendly glances or started grooming their fur. Mistface and Greyleaf were talking in low voices to each other, and Greyleaf seemed calm for once.

“AH!”

A collective jump and the crew all looked at Darkpelt. She had shot up into a sitting position, her eyes huge even compared to her normal wide-eyed blind stare. Her tail stood straight up, fur sticking out like a fox’s.

“Something wrong?” Flyfang ventured when nothing was said.

“StarClan’s visions.” Darkpelt’s head twisted this way and that, like she was seeing something they couldn’t. “Greyleaf has been immune to them his whole life, and Littlepaw can see through the veil. ‘Through the veil’.” Her head turned in Redheart’s direction. “That’s what the Runagate told you. That was the specific wording.”

Redheart haltingly answered, confused. “It was, yes.”

“Littlepaw, Greyleaf, neither of you believe anymore, if you ever did.” Darkpelt looked between them. “As soon as you knew the truth, StarClan couldn’t work its magic on you.”

Littlepaw’s face fell. She seemed to be recalling the memory of her nightmare. “Yes. The field I always see was dead, and then it fell apart.”

“Is there a point to this?” Beetlefoot's head was craned a bit forward and his eyes were narrowed like Darkpelt’s were whenever she was concentrating.

“I don’t know yet.” Darkpelt lowered herself down again. “But it’s important. I can feel that. We have the veil and the knowledge of immunity. That’s all based on belief.” She squinted hard. “Belief. That’s going to be a factor. Keep that in your heads, everyone. We’re going to need to think.”

Laurelclaw didn’t know what to say. Thinking was not his strong suite to begin with, but this incredibly vague command to 'keep belief in his head' was already beyond him.

“Um…” He tilted his head, forgetting for a moment that Darkpelt couldn’t see him. “What does that factor into?”

“Haven’t the faintest,” Darkpelt said. “We’ll just have to wrack our noggins and see. Think hard, everyone. Think harder than you’ve ever thought in your lives. Our home and Clan depend on it.”

Redheart regarded Darkpelt with some puzzlement, but eventually she gave a small sigh. “We can do that. I hope this is going somewhere.”

“It is.” For the first time since they’d left the Clast, Darkpelt smiled broadly. “I promise.”

[rosesgonerogue]

I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face Chapter Four

No matter how hard she tried, Marinette couldn’t deny the fact that she found Timothy Drake incredibly attractive. But she had to push it down for the sake of professionalism. In all actuality, all of the Wayne brothers were attractive, but she and Tim just… clicked. She wanted to stay here and talk to him, pick his mind about his likes and dislikes. It really did not help that Leo was insistent that Tim got Ladybug red lining. 

Because that was huge. Leo knew Ladybug’s identity, and he was staunchly protective of the heroine because of that. He knew something, or intuited something about Tim that Marinette hadn’t caught onto yet. Leo’s insistence was more than curious, and it consumed enough of Marinette’s thoughts that she managed to avoid pondering the fact that the majority of the family had at least some trace of the Lazarus Pits on them. 

The Lazarus Pits were something that Marinette had only learned about from the book, but the sensation was unmistakable. They were dark, twisted Miraculous magic, a result of a wish born from the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses. It was a magic that was able to heal someone at the expense of their sanity, or sometimes their humanity, at least so the kwamis had reported. But the magic was faded - it had been at least a few years since any of them had interacted with the pools. It had taken her some time to confirm the feeling, but now Marinette was sure of it. If the Wayne family was indeed the “Bat Family,” as Gotham had dubbed the vigilantes, then they were involved in some things beyond even the Justice League. 

If that was the case, then Tim should have been the last person she focused on. He was remarkably free of the vile magic. Even knowing that, as well as Marinette’s responsibilities as the Guardian of the Miraculous, she couldn’t help but gravitate towards Tim.

She really wanted nothing more than to talk to the man for hours, but Marinette couldn’t. It felt like she was with her friends and it was late enough that she knew logically that she needed to leave, but it also felt like she couldn’t help but leave a part of herself behind when she did. But Marinette was an adult, with a job and a child to take care of. Purposely tearing her eyes away from him , she looked at the clock. “Well, it’s getting late, Tim. I’m sure you have important business to attend to, and I have a number of suits to make. It was lovely meeting you, and thank you once again for being so attentive to Leo.” 

“It was my pleasure, Marinette.” 

Slipping away, Marinette couldn’t escape the thoughts and emotions pounding in her mind. The Wayne family was truly an eclectic group. 

Alfred waited for her at the doorway, his posture perfect. “On behalf of the Wayne family, I thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” 

Maybe it was just the residual emotions from the Waynes - because there were many - but now that she wasn’t distracted, something felt… different about the butler. Miraculous. 

“And thank you for all of your assistance, Monsieur. I’m afraid I missed your last name.” 

“Pennyworth, Madame. Sir Alfred Pennyworth.” 

“Well, Sir Pennyworth, I hope to see you again soon,” Marinette said warmly, squeezing Leo’s hand. “Have a wonderful day.” 

“You as well,” he said, inclining his head. 

A car was waiting outside for them, and as Marinette was buckling Leo in, he said, “Monsieur Pennyworth needs something blue like Duusu.”

His eyes were grave - Marinette often thought that she wasn’t capable of possibly fathoming half of the things that went through his mind. Apparently being born to the guardian and wielder of the Miraculous had some side-effects - like his scary accurate intuition. 

“Don’t worry,” she said, ruffling his hair. “I’ll make something special for Mr. Pennyworth. But if he’s blue like Duusu, why is Monsieur Drake Ladybug red?” 

“He matches you,” Leo said simply before becoming fixated on something outside of the car. 

Well. Marinette got to decipher what that was supposed to mean alone, it seemed. 

**********

As soon as the designer was gone, Damian huffed, crossing his arms. “She at least seems marginally capable.” 

“She’s more than marginally capable, Little D,” Dick said, shaking his youngest brother. “She’s MDC.” 

“Are we going to discuss the fact that she’s the tourist from patrol the other night?” Jason asked, lounging across an armchair.

“The one you had to get out of a tree? Why would she-”

“No, the one that took down Scarecrow single-handedly and then managed to kick the replacement in the face,” Jason said, snickering. 

“Are you kidding me?” Dick asked, eyes alight with excitement. “She’s that one?” 

“It was probably just adrenaline,” Damian muttered. “You said she had been looking for her child, didn’t you?” 

“Speaking of the kid, he sees way too much,” Jason butted in. “It’s like he can look into your soul. And you can’t adopt either of them, Bruce, no matter how much they look like Waynes.” 

“There are other options,” Bruce said dismissively. “But if we want to keep our identities a secret, we need to be especially cautious. Tim, I want you to do a background check now that we have a full name. Nothing too deep, she hasn’t given us any real reason to be suspicious yet.” 

“Nonsense,” Damian said with a curled lip. “We should have done a full investigation before she even set foot in Gotham.” 

“Damian, you will show her respect,” Bruce warned. 

“Hey B, do you know anything about a Parisian hero named Ladybug?” Tim asked. “Leo was talking about her like she was a pretty big deal.” 

“The name is familiar. She and a handful of other heroes popped up in Paris a little less than ten years ago. There isn’t much information on them, but they seem harmless enough, leading recycling efforts and such. They’re likely more public mascots than actual heroes.” 

“That would be kind of nice, wouldn’t it?” Dick wondered idly. “What would it be like, worrying about recycling and friendship more than actual crime?” 

“Either the Parisian cops are damn good at their job, or the city is a disaster,” Jason speculated. “The more I think about it, Paris sounds like a great vacation spot. You should take us there on our next family trip, Bruce.” 

“We don’t do family trips,” Damian sneered. 

“You should take us on family trips, Bruce.” 

“Think of all of the family bonding we could do!” Dick exclaimed with stars in his eyes. While they all argued about whether or not a family trip was feasible, or even worthwhile, Tim slipped away to his room. 

His mind was bogged down with visions of blue eyes and a musical laugh. The only word he could think of to describe how he felt was “bewitched,” but Tim felt like that was far from just to the source of the problem. 

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door and none other but Dick Grayson pushed his way into the room. “Everything okay, Tim?” he asked, eyes clearly concerned. 

“I’m fine, I just… This is completely embarrassing. I was just… distracted.” 

Dick scrutinized him for a moment before his face cleared. “Oh. Oh.” 

“Don’t make it sound like that,” Tim said, throwing a pillow. “I just… I don’t think I’ve spoken that easily to a woman ever. Marinette… She was amazing.” 

“I did notice that you two were getting along. It’s okay if you like her, Timmie. In case you haven’t gotten the memo, the whole vigilante life doesn’t immediately exclude you from having a love life.” 

“I know, I’ve seen it, but - Ugh, it’s all so confusing. I think I could really, really like her, but she’s too bright, too precious. Gotham would drain the life out of her, just like it does to everything else.” 

Dick thought for a moment before ruffling his brother’s hair. “First of all, I think you’re not giving Marinette enough credit. She’s already been through an attack, and it was with Scarecrow, no less. Somehow she managed to take him down, and she almost took you out too. Gotham’s got nothing on that girl.” 

“I know, it’s just hard to reconcile the Marinette I just met with the one that kicked me in the face,” Tim said, rubbing his temples. “What’s second?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You said ‘first of all.’ That means that you’ve got a second part.” 

Moving to Tim’s doorway, Dick looked back with half a smile. “Second of all, no one ever said you had to stay in Gotham.” 

Taglist: 

@ii-fox-demon @queen-in-a-flower-crown @novaloptr @saphiraazure2708 @iamabrownfox @smolplantmum @redhoodedtoad @loysydark @slytheringinger300 @finallyaniguana @brokenwordsarehard2 @abrx2002 @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @moonlightstar64  @marinettepotterandplagg @black-streak @purplesundaze @maribat-is-lifeblood @the-fusionist @river9noble @chocolatecatstheron @darkthunder1589 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @dast218 @k-poplunardreams @meanids @changelinggarden @ladybug-182 @pawsitivelymiraculous

Note: 

This chapter is short on Leo, which is as much as shame to me as it is to all of you, I’m sure. I fully intend on making up for that later. Let me know what you all think. I’m still fairly new to writing romance, so I could use all the input I can get! 

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Sounds of Someday - CH 2

Title: Sounds of Someday

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel 

Rating: E (eventually)

Tags: canon typical violence, character death, kind of cuz you know, nothing really dies in Supernatural, smut, fluff, bit of angst

Summary: Sam was dead, Cas was lost forever, and Dean's entire world had been turned upside down in less than an instant. He was alone, again, a typical Winchester ending, but god damn if that was how he was going to leave it. He was going to get Sam back, he was going to get Cas back, and he was going to fix everything that had fallen apart, and now he was going to do it all with twin babies and the king of hell back on his side. Season sixteen… here we go.

MASTERLIST

AO3

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter two

     Jody Mills tapped the wooden spoon in her hand on the side of the pot, splattering her famous spaghetti sauce all over the white of her stove top. The doorbell rang again, followed by a persistent knocking as she scowled into the pot of sauce, angrily dropping the spoon into the empty sauce can beside her. She swiped her half full wine glass off the counter as the knocking and ringing continued, and she stormed towards the door wondering who would have the gaul to be so arrogant on a Sunday afternoon. 

     "I'm coming, I'm coming, keep your pants on, yeesh!" She called out, grumbling to herself about the arrogance of some people as she finally made it to the door. She quickly swung it open, ready to give the person on the other side a huge piece of her mind, but instead she only managed a stunned, "Dean?!"

     "Jody," he breathed. 

     "Dean Winchester! Where the hell have you been?!" Though it wasn't exactly the warm welcome Dean had been hoping for, he was still happy to have this nonetheless. "I haven't heard from you in ages, and now you just randomly show up on my doorstep, unannounced, on a Sunday afternoon? And those…" She looked down to the two car seats, one in each of his hands and pointed to them, "Are… are those babies? You have babies?!"

     He just nodded and looked to her with his still red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. When she was finally able to take him fully in, getting past the initial shock of seeing him after so long with no word as to why, she realized there must be more to this then at first glance and quickly ushered him inside. "Let's get you all inside, I do believe I'm entitled to a very lengthy and detailed explanation of what the hell's going on here."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     "You were dead?" 

     Jody looked up at Dean from where she was sitting on the couch across from him, playing with the babies in the car seats where they sat on her coffee table. He just looked back at her with a solemn expression and nodded. 

     "Yeah, or at least I thought I was. Turns out I was just in some sort of Chuck induced fever dream for four years."

     "And Sam?"

     It wasn't missed on Jody the way Dean's entire being died with the question, the already dimming light completely fading from his eyes. She already had her answer. 

     "He's dead, he's back at Bobby’s right now," he confirmed with a nod, "and Cas is… he's gone too, the Empty took him."

     "When the hell did that happen?!"

     Dean just shook his head, thinking back. He wasn't sure if he should tell her, hell he wasn't even sure if he was ready to say it out loud himself. But he figured who better to bear it all to then Jody, a woman who had basically been his mom for years now. 

     So he nodded to himself, trying in a way to convince himself it was okay, then scrubbed a hand down his face as he looked up to her, "It, uh… it happened right after he allowed himself to be truly happy."

     She gave him a questioning look and asked, "And that was how?"

     "He…" He waited a beat, took a deep breath, then continued, "He told me he loved me."

     Jody's eyebrows shot nearly straight into her forehead, and her bottom lip shrugged out almost in that typical Winchester way. "Well, okay, yeah, that makes sense."

     "That… that makes sense?" He scrunched his face at her, "The hell is that supposed to mean?!"

     "Exactly what it sounds like," she chuckled lightly, "you two were always so oblivious. Everyone knew that you were both in deep for each other, the only two who didn't know it was you. At least one of you finally said something."

     "Yeah," he scrubbed his face again and sighed into his hands, "and as soon as he did, the Empty took him away. He never should have made that deal with the Empty. He let himself be happy, told me he loved me, and then to save me he let the Empty take him away from me for it. I didn't have a chance to say anything before he was gone. I just… I just stood there like an idiot."

     "But you're gunna save him right?" She asked, then turned a wide smile on one of the babies as they cooed at her. 

     "What?”

     “Oh don't you play me for a fool, Dean Winchester,” she eyed him from the side, “I know you, and I know that even if it takes everything you’ve got, you will find a way to bring back both your brother and Cas. You'll have your chance to talk to Cas about this, I'm sure of it.”

     “But that's just the thing Jody, I can't do that anymore,” he gestured to the two little ones in front of him, “I have these two now, kids, I can't go running around all reckless like I used to. I have to make sure I’m there for these two, I have to be a good dad.”

     “Seems you're off to a good start at least, thinking like that,” she smiled at him softly, “but I'm sure together we can find a way around this. We'll find a way to bring them back without having to go the familiar route of the typical Winchester sacrifice.”

     He just nodded, thankful but not really knowing exactly how to put in words just how much that all meant to him. 

     “And if you decided that you wanted to keep hunting after we got them both back, then we'll find a way around that too, I know it’s important to you.”

     She reached over and placed her hand on Dean's knee, giving it a little shake. He managed to give her the smallest hint of a smile, which she returned, then looked back to the two small bundles still cooing on her coffee table. 

     “I still can't believe that these two precious little munchkins are God and the Darkness. Two very horrible people we once tried to kill,” she looked up from the babies, “how… how do you feel about that, I mean, the last time I saw you, you were pissed at Chuck and now you're raising him.”

     “It's… an interesting development,” he stood from the chair across from Jody and moved to sit beside her, looking at both the babies. Chuck was still awake, wide eyed and looking at everything, and Amara was sound asleep in the car seat beside him. He smiled a little, lifting his hand to run his finger down Chuck's little cheek, “I know who they were, but they aren't that anymore, they're just babies now, human. No power, no memories, just little Chuck and Amara Winchester. A once God turned human and his now equally human twin sister.”

     “Wait, Winchester? I was wondering what you would be doing for last names.”

     “I don't really have much of a choice.” He reached into the side pocket of Chuck's seat, pulling out the envelope he had found earlier and handed it to Jody. 

     She gave him a curious look then turned to open it, dumping the contents into her lap. She rifled through, looking at every piece, eyes widening as she went deeper. 

     “Did Chuck do this?!”

     Dean nodded, “Just before he blew us back to reality.”

     “Birth certificates,” she lifted each piece as she said it, “he made both of them Winchesters, officially. Guess he thought of everything.”

     “Not everything,” Dean grumbled, “he zapped the three of us back here with no supplies for the babies, no formula, no diapers, no cribs, no place to live, and it's going to be hard to find a place by myself that's going to take an ex-hunter single dad with two kids and a dog.”

     “You're not going back to the Bunker?”

     “No,” he answered a bit too fast, then sighed, “no, not right now at least. I… I just can't right now after losing Sam and Cas.”

     She nodded, understanding how he felt. “Well you know, i've got some extra rooms in the house since the girls left. Claire’s never here aside from a quick visit to check in for the sake of my sanity between hunts, Patience is off to college so she'll be back in the summer but that's it, and Alex is still working at the hospital in town but she's now all moved in with her boyfriend. That gives you a room for yourself, a room for the twins, and then we still have a spare room for when the girls come to visit.”

     “Are you… you want me to move in here?”

     “Why not?” She shrugged.

     “Jody, I can't just move in with no notice like this, I don't wanna impose on you.”

     “Dean, honey, you are not imposing,” she placed a hand on his knee and gave it a light squeeze, “I am happy to help. So you, the babies, and your dog are all going to be living here starting now until further notice. And as for the rest, the supplies for the babies, I can also help you with that. I don't have anything left over from when my son was little, but it's nothing a quick trip to the store can't fix.”

     “Jody I can't, “ he shook his head, “I can't ask that much of you, and I've still got so much to deal with, and Sam… I’ve still got to bury Sam,” he whispered the last part, voice cracking, choking back a sob as he tried to hide it behind his hand.

     “Dean, please,” she leaned forward on the couch and looked into his eyes, “I want you here, and this isn't something you should have to go through alone. 

     “I… I don't know what to say.”

     “Don't say anything,” she smiled at him, “once we take care of Sam we’ll head to the store, grab what we need for the babies, then you can grab what you need from the Bunker and get settled in here.”

     He just nodded, staring at the floor unable to actually look at jody right now, “Thanks, Jody, this really means a lot.”

     “We’ll get through this, Dean, okay, one step at a time.” He just nodded again as Jody gave him one last squeeze then stood and said, “Let's get to the store so these babies have food, then we'll head over to Bobby’s… and take care of Sam.” 

     She left him to sit on the couch for a few minutes, to think over everything and have a little time to process, time she was sure he hadn't allowed himself to have yet, and started gathering her things to wait for him outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     Dean pulled up to the all too familiar junk yard that was home for him once upon a time. Home for him and his little brother all those years ago when John was too busy hunting to be a father, too riled up in his revenge and anger to be a dad, too misguided and self centered to be a parent. But all for the better, Dean thought as he drove through the maze of piled up cars, because they found something better. 

     In those old worn down walls they found a man more worthy of being their father then John ever was. A man who actually cared for them not just as children, but even later in life when they showed up lost and alone on his doorstep. Even on his dying breath he loved them like the sons he considered them to be. In those old worn down walls they felt true love.

     He pulled the impala to a stop outside the burned down and broken remains of Bobby's old place. He remembered how he felt the day he drove in to find the place up in flames, after the Leviathans had destroyed it, killed Bobby, ruined their lives. Dean thought they had taken everything away from them. But he realized soon after, when they buried Bobby there, that as soon as he stepped foot on the soil outside that burnt up mess, it was still home. 

     There may not have been much of a house left, and Bobby was gone for good, but the feeling that Dean always felt when he was there never left. It was something the Leviathans or anything else could ever take away from him. The memories, the love, that feeling of home. And in the end, Dean couldn't think of a better place to bury his brother. Sammy would want to be home. 

     He got out of the car, breathing in the sweet Sioux Falls air he loved so much, and walked to the back doors to start getting the babies car seats out of the back as Jody drove up and parked beside him. He got both seats out of the impala and placed them on the ground, watching as Jody pulled the new double stroller they just bought out of the back of her van, and pushed it over to Dean. 

     He lifted Chuck first, holding his seat over the front of the stroller, testing and turning it a few times before he asked, "How…?"

     Jody just laughed and reached for the car seat, "Here, it goes facing you, and just clips in like this "

     At the simple little snap Dean eyed the stroller warily and reached out to give the car seat handle a little test jiggle, "Is this safe? It doesn't seem safe at all, I mean that was too easy!"

     "It's perfectly safe, Dean, you insisted we got the most top of the line everything for the babies, and according to the clerk at the store, and the seven articles you read on the way there, that's exactly what we got. And the articles said it was tested and proven the best stroller in America right?" She laughed as he just nodded sheepishly. "Don't worry so much, Dean, you're gunna be a fine daddy. Now you try clipping Amara into the bottom part of the stroller."

     It took him a few tries, but eventually he had both babies clipped in and he was pushing the stroller towards the back of the house. The pire he had already set up before going to Jody was still there, Sam wrapped in a white sheet in the center. He stopped for a moment, not really able to move or breathe as he just stared at Sam. This wasn't what he wanted, this was never what he wanted, he had what he wanted and it turned out to be a stupid fake reality. Everything was falling apart at the seams. 

     Jody lifted her hand and squeezed his shoulder, urging him forwards. He nodded and walked closer to Sam with Jody by his side, and after making sure the babies were at a very safe distance from the pire, he pulled his lighter out of his pocket. He shifted it from hand to hand for a moment, staring at the dirt, trying to find the right words to say.

     "Well, Sammy," he choked out, trying to hold back tears, "I'm sorry. I tried, I really tried, but I couldn't help you. But mark my words, I will find a way to bring you back. I promise you."

     He waited another moment before he nodded to himself, then tossed the lighter and took a step back to stand with Jody. They watched as the pire lite up, standing side by side, and there was no stopping the tears now while he watched his brother burn. 

     "This isn't permanent, you know," she said from beside Dean, "it's only temporary. We will find a way to make this right again. We always have."

     He took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks. Jody shifted over and wrapped an arm around him, "When you're ready, we’ll head to the bunker and get what you need. Then we'll get back home, get the cribs set up in their room, and get you and the babies settled."

     "Yeah," he cleared his throat and turned to look at Jody, "let's get the babies home."

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     Dean stood in the entryway to the Bunker, his legs unable to move. This was the last place they were all together. The last place that he, Cas, and Sam were all together. It was also the place where he lost Cas. Where he confessed his love to Dean, where he stood stock still and did nothing, said nothing as Cas was taken from his life again. It's where he spiralled after that, falling to his rage and anger, feeling the loss of Cas again though this time it weighed differently. He knew Cas loved him, had loved him all those years together when he'd been too afraid to say anything. Losing Cas always ripped his heart out, but knowing how Cas felt, that his hidden feelings for the angel were reciprocated, knowing that they had lost so many years when they could have been together, it made the pain infinitely worse. And he felt that pain renewed as he stood just before the threshold to the place that held his worst nightmares inside. And what was worse was that now he stood here alone. No brother… no Cas, just himself and the bad memories.

     "You ready?"

     He turned to Jody who was now standing beside him, holding both car seats. He jolted out of his flashing memories of losing Cas just beyond this door, took one of the seats from her, sighed and said, "As ready as I can be. Let's just get this over with."

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Dean wanted to spend as little time in the Bunker as possible. The bad memories as of late outweighed the good and all he wanted was to get in and get out. So after putting the sleeping babies in the lounge, he rattled off a list of things for Jody to find, and the two split up to cover more ground faster. And with the promise from Jody that if ever they needed something else from the Bunker, she would come get it so that Dean never had to come back after this. She could tell it was really hurting him to even be in here for this short of a time. 

     After about an hour the two met back up in the map room, shoving their findings into the few duffels Dean grabbed from his old room, when a pounding at the door had them both frozen and silent. Eyes wide, Dean looked to Jody for an answer who just shook her head, as lost as he was. 

     The pounding came again and this time Dean's heart felt a little jolt of hope and he perked up slightly. Afterall, it had happened before so why not now? "Cas?!"

     "Oi! Someone open up will ya!"

     He sighed, but why would he be so lucky. 

     He and Jody both exchanged unimpressed glances as Dean headed up the stairs to open the door, though just enough to stick his head out. 

     "What do you want, Crowley?! I am not in the mood!"

     "Easy, Squirrel, easy," he held both hands up, "not here to bother you, just came to find out why in the bloody hell the world suddenly jolted back to life after four years. Figured if anyone had anything to do with it, it would be one of you lot. Gunna let me in?"

     Dean just rolled his eyes and backed away to let him in. "You could have just snapped your way in like you usually do."

     "Didn't want to be rude now, Squirrel.". He strolled in, hands in his pockets and looked around. He eyed Jody at the bottom of the stairs and raised a brow. "Where’s Moose?"

     "Dead."

     "Ah," he nodded, seemingly unfazed, "and your devilishly handsome boyfriend?"

     Dean shook a little at the mention of Cas, but answered through gritted teeth, "He's in the Empty, for good this time."

     It didn't pass Crowley that he never even bothered to deny the boyfriend comment but he went on anyway as they headed down the stairs together. "You seem fairly untroubled by the fact that I am indeed alive. Last we saw each other I "killed myself"," he turned to use air quotes at Dean who rolled his eyes again, "back when we were fighting my old compadre in the Endverse world."

     "Yeah well, after the last four or so years that I've had, nothing really phases me anymore."

     "Assuming this has something to do with the world being frozen. Glad you're back by the way. The world was boring while Chucky had it frozen. No deals to be made, no fun to be had."

     "Where were you all that time, huh?" He turned Crowley back to look at him, "How did you not die, what did you do?"

     "Ah well, that. I had a contingency plan in place in case one of you clots should be my end."

     "Of course you did, what was this brilliant plan?"

     "Pulled myself a Voldemort." He smiled smugly at Dean who just furrowed his brows. 

     "You… what?!"

     "I put a small piece of myself in some sorry sap down in New Mexico before Lucifer pulled his second tantrum of the decade, and after I killed myself I was able to use that piece of myself to be resurrected. As for where I've been, it takes time to recover from such a trauma you know, so surf, sun, and sandals." 

     "I, you… did you just make a Harry Potter reference?" He was still stuck on the first part of the conversation. 

     And though Dean was confused, Crowley looked almost impressed, "Didn't take you for a Potterhead, Squirrel."

     "Of course I've watched Harry Potter," he scoffed, "Hermione kicks ass! She'll be a good role model for the kids when they watch it with me when they're older.” 

     "Kids..? Yours? You have kids," he turned, looking around the room for little rugrats tearing the place apart, then back to Dean, " Did I miss something?!"

     "You have no idea-" Crying came from the room behind them and Dean just closed his eyes and let out a full body sigh, "Damn it, I was hoping they'd stay asleep till we got home."

     He left for a moment then came back in the room bouncing a tiny baby in one arm, and carrying another car seat in his other hand. 

      When Dean walked up to Crowley he had to laugh a bit despite everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. He was sure he had never seen such a look of genuine confusion on his face as he darted his eyes back and forth between the babies. "Is that…?"

     Dean just nodded, "Chuck and Amara."

     Crowley walked over to Dean, still a little shook that he was looking at two creatures he used to fear once upon a time. When he was close enough he bent down slightly, looking into Chuck’s car seat, "Capitol G, look at you now," then up to Amara in his arms, "and the Darkness. And now you're their… father?"

     "Apparently," he placed Chuck’s seat down by his feet and took the outstretched bottle from Jody as she came back from the kitchen, "they didn't give me much choice. Just fixed reality, put me back on Earth, sent Sam to Heaven, and just poofed themselves into human babies with paperwork saying they’re Winchesters."

     "And how do we feel about that?" Crowley asked, "You're now father to the creature who made your life a living hell for years, who tried more than once to kill you, and attempted to destroy the Earth. Doesn't it bother you to now be caring for the little hellraiser?"

     Dean shrugged. Sure, he'd thought about all that, thought about how angry Chuck had made him, the things he did near the end, and Amara was no saint in her own way. But when Dean looked down at Amara in his arms, and Chuck still sleeping soundly in the car seat at his feet, he found himself smiling as he answered Crowley's question, "It doesn't bother me. It may have bothered me for a split second when everything was being thrown in my face all at once with Sam's death, my reality, the babies. But then I realized that even though this is Chuck and Amara, God and the Darkness, in a way it's not. They have no memories of what they did before they started their lives over as humans, they're just babies, humans now. And I'm going to make sure they're loved and cared for, always, as every baby should be."

     "My," Crowley raised a brow as he stared at Dean, a little mixed between impressed and speechless, "that's very noble of you. I myself don't think I’d be able to do the same."

     "You couldn't even raise your own son, Crowley. What was his name… Gavin? That kid was a mess because of you," Dean rolled his eyes, "I wouldn't expect you to suddenly grow a heart."

     "Glad we're on the same page then," he smirked, then walked a little closer to Dean, looking him up and down once. Dean eyed him cautiously, watching his movements, then he looked back at Dean after one last look over, "although, Dean Winchester with babies, very… dilf of you, Dean."

     Dean scoffed, "In your dreams, Crowley."

     He just smirked over at Dean, and said in a smooth, deep voice, just barely above a whisper, "Every night," with a wink.

     Dean gaped at him, mouth opening and closing a few times, but no words came out. 

     Crowley then knelt down, same devilish smirk on his face as before, and looked into Chuck's car seat. "Well, now little ones, how about Uncle Crowley helps Daddy get back your other Daddy and Uncle Moose?"

     "Okay, first of all, Uncle Crowley?" He just shrugged up at Dean as he continued, "And second, why do you wanna help all of a sudden? What's the catch?"

     "No catch, no tricks, no deals. I just want to help that's all." Dean didn't even say anything, just stared him down until he rolled his eyes and tossed his head back, "Alright, fine. I'll admit, you're not my favourite people on Earth, but it's painfully boring up here without the Winchesters around to stir up trouble. And I figure I scratch your back…"

     "Cut the crap, Crowley, what do you want?"

     "I'm not asking for much here, but when I… died," he drawled, "of course all of hell assumed my throne was up for grabs and gave it to my mother of all people, and when the time comes, you could help me get it back. Besides, I think you could benefit from having friends in low places, don't you?"

     Dean sighed and shook his head. He knew himself that Crowley had gotten them out of a jam more than once, and it was always helpful to have the King of Hell on their side in tough times. But he’d be the last person to ever admit that out loud. Especially in front of Crowley. 

     "If you can get Cas back, and Sam, I'll help you get whatever you want."

     "Jolly good show. So we've got a deal then?" He stuck his hand out to Dean waiting for him to take it, but Dean just glared at him, so he pulled it back and laughed, "Joking, of course."

     "Right," Dean huffed, then turned to sit in a chair while he continued feeding Amara, "where do we start?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So there’s chapter two of my fix it fic, let me know what you guys think! And if anyone wants to be tagged for future posts or destiel fics, let me know <3

Tags: @thebridgekid @frostingsfics @frostedej @clairewinchester14 @kitsunecastiel 

[takingcourage]

The Best of the Best

Pairing: M!Cassian x MC 

Word Count: 2,950

Summary: Kellen decides it’s high time to treat Cassian to some of the finer things in life. 

Note: This is one of those fics that’s no longer relevant to the plot, but has been taking up space in my drafts for ages and needs to be booted out for the sake of my sanity. I guess it’s set somewhere before chapter 12? Regardless, it features some backstory and a more gradual recognition of feelings than the one we got in canon.  

Craning his neck, Cassian tried to catch a glimpse his of collar in the bathroom mirror. Still brushing his teeth with his right hand, he snaked his left behind him to smooth the wrinkle that bent the structured band. His hair would likely disguise any such imperfections, but that didn’t matter. It was the principle of the thing. 

This was the first evening he and Kellen had gone out since their arrival in Nantucket, and he wasn’t going to do it halfway.

He completed a final lap across his teeth and spit into the sink. Once finished, he rinsed off the brush and laid it in his toiletry bag. Drawing back his hand, his eyes rolled toward the ceiling. The footsteps coming from the bedroom had become sharper -- more pronounced. 

Kellen had put on her shoes. 

It won’t be long now, he reasoned, taking one last look at his appearance in the bathroom mirror. His hair still looked a little windblown from the hours he’d spent working on the outside of the cottage, but the helmet would soon negate any efforts he made to improve it. He made a note to double-check his teeth, then realized his mouth was already open from smiling. 

It wasn’t the first time something similar had happened over the last few weeks. Living with Kellen had been more enjoyable than even his wildest expectations might have predicted. 

Cassian heard the click of heels on the stairs seconds before she appeared in the open doorway. 

“Please ignore the fact that you’ve already seen me in this dress. If we were back in Boston, I’d have a whole closet of them to pick from, but, you know...” 

He couldn’t help laughing at her nonchalant shrug. “This one suits you. You could wear it every day and you’d never hear me complain. You look gorgeous.” 

It had been over a month since they’d locked eyes on that rooftop in Boston, but he still had to do a double take every once in a while. Tonight, with her dark berry lipstick and her hair styled into a low bun, Kellen was positively enchanting. 

She dressed up for me. 

He knew it wasn’t quite true, but that didn’t stop the pleasure from swelling his chest at the notion. For the thousandth time in the last five weeks, he tried to censure himself -- an increasingly difficult task where she was concerned. 

“You're making me feel underdressed, if I’m honest,” he continued, hoping his mind would accompany the words instead of remaining stuck on her appearance. “What is this about, anyway?”

“You look perfect.” She pinched the point of his collar between her fingers and gave him an appreciative once over. “And I’m taking you out to dinner: that’s all you need to know,” she challenged, sapphire eyes blazing.

Cassian’s mouth went dry as she released her hold. “Have you forgotten that I’ll be the one driving us to this surprise? I’ll need to know eventually.” 

“I’ll give you directions as we go. It’ll be more fun.” 

Forehead against the doorjamb, he let out a groan of apprehension. “I thought we decided you weren’t going to do that again.” Her methods of giving directions from the back of a Vespa were very...creative.  

“I’ll keep my hands to myself this time.” 

A quiet cough was enough to call her bluff. 

“Mostly.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

She answered the accusation with a cheeky smile before her eyes fell on the stovetop clock. “Our reservation is for 6:30. We’d better get moving.” 

Slipping the keys from his pocket, he motioned toward the door. “I’ll follow you,” he promised, resigning himself to a very long ride into town. 

_____

“What is this really about?” He asked a second time, some half-hour later. Leaning back in his chair, he tried to perform a scan of the restaurant’s other occupants, but his eyes kept landing back on Kellen. 

Candlelight danced on her skin as she pondered his question. If he hadn’t been so intent on hearing her response, he could have easily become lost in the sight of her. The beauty mark on her collarbone, the way the light caught on the dainty line of her chin, the flush of pink still on her cheeks from the ride over... He watched the shadow cross her perfect lips as they parted to answer.

“Breaking up the monotony. Testing some of Nantucket’s best food. Showing you the finer things in life.” 

“Ah.” He wasn��t sure the answer had told him any more than he’d already known. 

Whatever her intentions, this definitely wasn’t a date -- even if instinct kept trying to tell him otherwise. The lines between his conduct were so blurred that even he couldn’t guess his true motivations. Holding open doors, pulling out chairs -- they were things he’d done for the sake of courtesy since he was a child. But here with Kellen, he knew that more than politeness was driving his actions.

But Cassian wasn’t going to bring that up in conversation. Instead, he inclined a brow. “No fish ’n’ chips, then?” 

“Have you looked at the menu?”

He had, but he made a show of perusing it a second time. There were dishes he’d only vaguely heard of, most of them paired with prices that seemed anything but reasonable. 

“It’s restaurant week,” she reminded. “That means the food is affordable and there are a lot of people for us to blend in with,” she told him in undertones, as though sensing his worry. 

“You could never blend in, Kellen.”

The woman demurred, taking a sip of her wine to hide her smile. When she replaced the glass, she crooked a finger to draw him close. “The low light helps. It’s one of the reasons I picked this restaurant,” she confided in a half-whisper. 

Cassian pulled away with a proud grin. Kellen was getting savvier all the time. It should have come as little surprise, given how she’d excelled at anything else she put her mind to. But for whatever reason, it had taken far longer for caution to become second nature.  

She caught his eye and flashed a subtle wink.”Told you I’d thought this through.” 

“I’m sure not going to complain. You know how I feel about candles.” 

Her gaze narrowed before darting back down to the menu. Clearing his throat, Cassian let his own eyes pause on her for a moment longer. From the gentle motion of her jaw, he could tell that she was rolling her tongue between her teeth -- something she only did on the rare occasions when she held back her words. 

Did I say something wrong? he wondered, reaching for a sip from his water glass. After weeks of living together, they were well accustomed to each other’s teasing. She knew his tendency to turn things more serious, and he knew her default to deflect. He usually tried to tread lightly, but she was smart enough to tell that there was more to his comment than flirtation. 

As she batted her lashes and met his eyes again, the telltale spark had returned. “Anything look good?” she inquired, tracing the edge of her booklet. From the coquettish incline of her brow, it was clear she was referring to more than just the food. 

“All of it,” he answered truthfully, biting back an oath when the words came out sounding more sincere than playful. 

Tonight isn’t a date. And whatever this is with Kellen isn’t serious. She’s not interested.  

Although she said nothing in return, the sensation of her dainty foot coming to rest at his ankle was almost enough to make Cassian lose his composure. Her touch, that act of reaching toward him without flirtation, called his certainty into question. 

Maybe she was more interested than he’d given her credit for. 

“Kellen,” he whispered, one hand slipping under the table in a vain attempt to find her skin. If he touched her back, perhaps the moment would become real. 

“Can I answer any questions about the menu?” 

The waiter reappeared just as Cassian’s finger brushed the inside of her thigh. Swallowing back his disappointment, he pasted a grin and relaxed against the splat of the chair. 

Kellen straightened in her seat and began listing her order. From all Cassian could tell, she was unfazed -- as comfortable and self-assured as he’d ever seen her. 

Surely he’d been imagining things after all.  

_____

The sun had just started to set by the time they finished dining, and the balmy breeze from the water was all the encouragement Kellen needed to suggest a post-dinner stroll.

“So, what’d you think?” 

Cassian cut his steps short to match her stride. He was so used to her power walking that this leisurely pace took a bit of adjustment. “It was all very tasty.” 

“Good. It was so nice to be able to go out. I’ve missed it, you know?” 

“Thanks again for bringing me along.” 

“We go everywhere together, remember? Besides, who else would I bring all the way out here?” 

She was still a couple of steps behind him, but his ears picked up on the catch in the laughter that followed her words. For someone who usually exuded confidence, the slip was noticeable. Is she nervous? He mulled over the question for a moment before dismissing it as nostalgia for her old way of life. 

Coming to the edge of the railing, Kellen cocked her head toward him before casting her eyes on the water below. There was an almost imperceptible pause between the release of her breath and the moment she started speaking. “So...I might have lied earlier.” 

“About the risotto being better than the gnocchi?” He caught up to her, propping his forearms on top of the well-worn wood. 

She nudged him with an elbow. “No, I don’t lie about food--especially when mushrooms are involved. That risotto was amazing. But I wasn’t completely honest about why I brought you out here.” 

Eyes locked on the rolling tide, she explained further. “I know I haven’t been the easiest person to live with over the last several weeks. There have been a lot of times that I’ve made your life harder than it needs to be, and I’m sorry for that.” 

Cassian opened his mouth to insist that the confession was unnecessary, but her fingers curled around his wrist. “Don’t argue. I know I have. And I don’t apologize very often, so you’d better not mess this up for me.” 

Realizing the sincerity of her threat, his breath stumbled out over a half-serious laugh. He gently pulled his arm from her grasp and turned his hand to clutch her fingers. “I won’t.” 

“Thanks.” Though she inched nearer, her eyes stared far ahead. “Clearly, you deserve a lot more than one fancy dinner as an apology, but I’m working with limited resources right now and it’s the best I can do. Will you forgive me?”

His forehead lifted slightly with his initial surprise, though further consideration left him feeling foolish. It was true that the woman he’d met on the rooftop a month before would never have apologized for anything, but this woman? She’d changed significantly over the past few weeks. 

This Kellen was willing to admit when she was wrong. 

This Kellen was choosing to make herself vulnerable. With him.

As his pulse beat a deafening tattoo, he wondered how she’d respond if he hoisted her onto the railing and kissed her senseless. Whether she knew it or not, it would hardly be the first time he’d kissed her with more affection than lust. Still, taking that kind of action meant he risked disrupting this moment. 

Feeling the gentle course her thumb was charting over the back of his hand, he realized he’d been too distracted to answer her question. “All’s forgiven,” he assured quickly. “Besides, I’ve had a better time with you this last month than I’ve had with anyone in ages.” 

“Of course you have. I’m excellent company.” 

Her confidence was coming back, and it spurred his own bravery: potent and perhaps a little foolhardy. “While we’re on the subject...” he began, forging ahead before he could think better of it. “Would you let me take you out once we’re back in Boston? There’s a pub in Allston that I used to go to at least once a week. I know it’s not exactly what you’re used to, but everyone says their fried mushrooms are to die for.” 

“I’d love that.” 

Cassian hoped she couldn’t feel the goosebumps that sprouted across his skin at her immediate response. 

She didn’t even have to hesitate. 

“I’m not making any assumptions,” he continued, trying not to get ahead of himself. Just because she was willing to let him return the favor of buying her dinner didn’t mean that they’d remain a regular part of each other’s lives. “I understand if I’m not what you’re looking for in...”

He didn’t have to finish the thought. Kellen met his eyes briefly, but soon glanced away. “I haven’t been looking for anything,” she admitted. “Not really, anyway. Just some fun.”

”You’re a whole lot of things beside fun, Kellen.” Pulling her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Cassian was almost certain he imagined the quiet hum as she sighed out her next breath. 

“I know. But most men aren’t like you.” The statement was matter of fact, and the low timbre of her voice was enough to tell him that experience had been her teacher. 

His dark brows plummeted. “How do you mean?”

“Responsible. Genuine. Interested in taking care of others.” 

“You’ve been hurt in the past.” His skin heated at the thought, erasing the chill bumps on his arms. Thinking of anyone taking advantage of Kellen was enough to boil his blood. 

“Who hasn’t?”

“But hurt enough that it’s put you off love completely.”

“Between that and the crazy work hours, yeah. Relationships haven’t been a priority.” She picked at a splinter in the wood grain before rubbing it smooth with the pad of her thumb. “Guess that’s what happens when you waste two years of your life being used by someone who doesn’t even love you back.” 

He didn’t want to pry, but he was happy to listen for as long as she wanted to talk. Avoiding any additional leading statements, he ultimately settled on a neutral apology. “That’s awful, Kellen. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” 

“It’s not like it’s your fault.” She took her hand from his loosened grip, but she didn’t move away. Still close beside him, the fine hairs of her arm tickled his skin. “Blame my boyfriend from undergrad. He was more interested in getting a position in my dad’s company than he was in being with me. Once he had the job he wanted, he didn’t need me anymore.”

“And your dad?”

Kellen tensed. “He told me it was “just business” and that I needed to stop taking it personally. I haven’t wanted anything to do with either of them since.” 

“It’s their loss -- truly.” Though he sought her eyes, they were obstinately trained on the pattern of wood beneath her fingertips. Cassian linked a pinky with hers instead, hoping that she’d take the motion as proof of his convictions. “You’re one of the most amazing--” 

"Sorry!” She gasped out in apology, pulling her hand away and cutting him short. “Tonight was supposed to be about treating you to something nice -- not using you for therapy. It’s just really easy to talk to you, and tonight has got me thinking about a lot of things.”

Kellen wove her hand through the crook of his elbow, pulling close enough to rest her cheek on his shoulder. “And I’m glad you said what you did about the pub. After everything we’ve been through, I can’t imagine not seeing you once we’re back in Boston. You’re the best of the best, Cassian.” 

Her words were quiet, spoken more to the bay than to him, but they were still enough to make his heart sputter. Whether or not Kellen remembered, she’d used a similar phrase on the night they’d met. Did the compliment mean what he hoped? 

He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to ask. “I’d miss ya far too much,” he told her truthfully, quashing down the disappointment he felt at his own cowardice. 

“We can’t have that, can we?”

“No, we can’t.” 

Her scent wove together with the salt of the sea and the earthy must coming from the wood beneath them. The soothing combination was a perfect blend of all the things he’d soon exchange for the teeming streets of Boston. 

But certain as Cassian was that he could live without the endless whisper of the waves or the tang that lingered on his tongue with every breath, he was beginning to doubt that he could go on without her. Taking full advantage of Kellen’s nearness, he brushed his lips over the shell of her ear. 

“Once we’re back in Boston, you can see me as often as you want.” 

At his arm, her cheek tightened with the curve of her smile. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

_____

Later, as he drove them home with the stars overhead and Kellen’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, he took stock of the night’s events.  

Tonight hadn’t been a date. 

It hadn’t answered all of the questions he had about their future. 

The evening certainly hadn’t ended with a confession of feelings, but the confirmation that she wanted him in her life once they’d left Nantucket behind? That was enough for now.

[minorin-fanfictions]

Falling For You - Jimin Oneshot

Pairing: Jimin × reader (bestfriendtolovers!au)

Warning: mentions of cheating

Angst , Fluff

Word count: 2677

Here you were yet again. All smiles and cheerful. Totally not like the man who had bawled his eyes out over an ex, on my living room. You really couldn't see that she wasn't the one ever meant for an angel like you. But then again, love is blind. But you are an idiot for not noticing her cheating even after all the signs.

Jimin: "Do you think Kara and I would have lasted longer if I had been enough for her?" Of course.... her again. It makes me feel sick to the stomach listening to you still talk about your ex.

"Jimin, your enough for anyone out there. Even if you still love her, please move on." And the worst part is that i have to act like it's not killing me inside when you talk about her.

Jimin: "Y/n i know you will whack me with a magazine if i express my gratitude but thanks for being the bestest friend. I mma sure I'd still be mopping around my house about my love life if not for you."I refuse to accept that my heart clenced when you called me your bestfriend. It's funny how i started resenting that title in high school and look at nothing changing in College either.

"You still owe me a lot of grocery because s0mEoNE can't cook food for themselves so they think eating up others' is alright." His giggle made my playful frown turn into a soft smile. I guess that's Jimin Effect at this point.

~

The first week of Jimin's break up had been a disaster. I had found him crying on his bedroom floor, tears falling with an intensity capable of filling an entire bathtub with salt. He was reluctant to talk in detail about his cheating ex initially but soon spilled everything once he was ready, which was on the 6th day of his break up. The first five days had been spent with him crying his eyes out, while I rubbed his back and helped him breathe through his panic attacks.

The 2nd week, Jimin protected his fragile state in the depth of his silence. We would be in his living room like always yet the difference would be that he refused to speak. He just sat on his sofa with his head on my shoulder while I talked about anything and everything, pausing only to hear him hum in response.

So when I said that hearing him coo over Kara for the past years was painful and i wanted it to desperately stop. It definitely didn't mean that i wanted Jimin to loose sight of himself once he finally had to stop.

During the 3rd week, Jimin became more talkative. He laughed a little at my jokes, smiled at the compliments and cracked a few jests himself which I was obliged to laugh to. We would be in the kitchen while his mom cooked his favourite and i whispered things like, "Psst, I once planned to come to school mad but ended up laughing during the first period because I found you making faces at me from the front." Jimin had laughed so hard once he remembered the incident that he fell off his chair. "As far as i recall, you and chairs have a deep 'seated' hatred towards each other." I noticed his mother smile from the side upon seeing her son doubling over in laughter while Jimin found my pun unnecessarily funny. Not that I minded of course.

I could speak nonsense and Jimin would still appreciate it. We could call at 4 in the morning just to ask things like, 'what if birds aren't singing but screaming because they are afraid of heights' and then we would question our sanity.

I turned to look at him half lying on the couch with his gaze fixed on his phone while his feet laid on top- "PARK JIMIN GET YOUR FEET OFF MY TABLE I CLEANED THE ENTIRE HOUSE YESTERDAY " and cue me chasing Jimin around the house just for the sake of tackling him to the ground. In that moment I realized that Jimin had given me a lot of happiness by just being my bestfriend, the damage I inflicted upon myself after catching feelings was my fault.

~

It's been about a month since Jimin's break up and although he mentions how he had plans for their perfect future, from time to time, he has become more confident himself. Not that it makes me feel less annoyed at him being smitten over a cheater. So i really hope he grows out of what he has gone through before I snap some nec- Jimin: "You know Kara once said-" was all he was able to say on our peaceful walk out of the campus before i cut him off. "How about I don't want to know what Kara once said?" I replied sharply. "Do you hear yourself right now? Kara is gone and it is for the better."

Jimin simply nodded mumbling an apology and i felt bad for the way i said it. We continued walking but he still didn't bring his head up. Cautiously intertwining our hands together I gave his hand a light squeeze to which he responded with squeezing mine back. Not feeling satisfied i started swinging our arms back and forth, constantly bumping my shoulder with his to which he laughed. Jimin shook his head and smiled saying, "You have a unique way of showing that you feel bad but since I adore you, I accept your apology."

"I wasn't apologising for anything," i felt my ears burned as a result of his previous words.

"Mhm ofcourse" Jimin sarcastically said.

"Yes of course"

"I believe you"

"Like you should!"

We bickered. Like always. Having been friends for almost a decade, a silent apology for arguments or just going back to being crack heads was normal. And I could never be more glad for that. Everything seemed normal again.

"Umm.. Hey Jimin." a voice stuttered. We looked back in unision only to find Jimin's ex. Perhaps things only 'seemed' normal.

"Jimin, can I talk to you," Kara eyed me continuing, "alone?" I tugged at Jimin's sleeves and that is enough for him to know that he shouldn't cave in, so he hesitantly replied, "You can say it here."

"But it is supposed to be between us for privacy reasons," Kara inhaled sharply. Hearing her speak nonsense I voiced my thoughts, " I don't think you are well aware of the definition of either 'us' or 'privacy' between two people" Jimin holds Yukari in place when he notices her being two steps away from pouncing at Kara.

Jimin: "You can talk here, afterall, there is no 'us' any longer"

Kara: "Babe, give me a chance."

I interrupted, "Call him a pet name again. I dare you"

Kara visibly shuddered maybe because she knew that I was willing to throw hands at anyone hurting my friends.

Kara: "J-jimin, I am sorry for what i did. I know what I lost is irreplaceable. You are irrepla-"

"So it took you an entire month to know his worth or did you just run back to him because you got dumped," I hissed

Jimin reached forward to grab hold of my arm but I shrugged it off as soon as he made contact with me.

"You think ruining someone's perspective on love is alright? You did not cheat once. Nor was it an accident. Which cheap person would cheat for 8 consecutive months until they get caught? Apparently , you would." With each word I moved closer to Kara while Jimin did his best to hold my hand. But in an instant I yanked his hand away and was about to go into a full blown rage not really afraid of throwing hands. And that is when Jimin snapped, "You better stop Y/n!"

Time stilled. I gave Jimin a sceptical look waiting for him to continue.

He inhaled deeply, calming his nerves before addressing me, "Let me speak."

"What will you say? You will forgive her? Take her back? Wait for her to cheat agai-"

"Y/n," Jimin's stern voice cut me off.

His gaze fixated on me, not acknowledging Kara, "You know that she meant the entire world to me for 2 years, right? I will forgive her b-"

I stared incredulously at Jimin before blurting, "You should mean nothing to me." I speedily walked past them immediately, trying to calm my nerves so that the stinging in my eyes would ease.

Author P.O.V

On the other hand, Jimin realised the wrong meaning of his words and accelerated towards his best friend only to be stopped by his ex, "Jimin, please hear me out"

Jimin glared at her saying, "When I said I forgive you it didn't mean that I want you back."

Kara pleaded, "Don't leave me"

"She needs me and I need to fix it," was all Jimin said before he dashed after Y/n, stumbling down the hallway to reach his best friend.

"This is why we never worked out! It's her! It has always been her! You always left me when she needed you. You prioritised her even when I was you girlfriend! For once stay-"

Kara's voice became distant as he was further away from her but her first few words surely did not fall upon deaf ears.

He heard it. He heard her telling him how Y/n was the reason of their downfall. He heard her telling him how Y/n was the reason of her insecurities. He heard her telling him how his care and worry for Y/n outweighed what he felt for Kara. But he already knew that. Jimin was well aware that it was his mistake for giving himself to Kara just to overcome the attraction he had built for a certain bestfriend of his. Over the years, your heart often chooses the one who gets you most. The one that calls you stupid for crying while embracing you or maybe the one that cries with you over a movie. And he knew. He knew now , 'the one' for him.

~

"Y/n! Listen!" Jimin screamed as soon as he saw her just a few steps in front of him, standing under the bus stop shade. Thankfully, no one was around to witness Y/n's panicked state and Jimin's rushed words. Seeing that she completely ignored his call, he paced towards her and whirled her around to face him. "Please listen and don't say I mean nothing to you. It hurts."

"4 years. I waited for 4 years hopelessly. You think you are hurt? Well then i guess I am miserable," Y/n's voice wavered. Although confused by Yukari's words he still tried to get her to understand his prior actions, "No no no... J-just listen."

"No. You listen, Park Jimin! Please. Listen." Y/n snapped and Jimin immediately shut himself willing to hear her let it out. "It was difficult..." she cleared her throat to not let the lump grow further, "when I had to get through the moments where you cooed over your girlfriend and I silently contemplated on how to get over you. It was difficult to see you cry over her. It was obvious that you loved her a lot and maybe I was jealous that it would never be me whom you'd love in that manner." The all to familiar stinging was back in her eyes, "Each year that went by where we remained friends, I loved you even more! Honestly, having a guy bestfriend is truly amazing. Until you fall in love with him." She tilted her head to the side, "Jimin... I don't think my heart can take watching you love someone else again.... Not when everything in me is drawn to you!"

Once she ended her rant, realisation hit Jimin like a truck. He could have ended their sufferings if he hadn't been so afraid of ruining what they shared.

"Y/n.. I didn't know you felt that way"

As soon as, Y/n registered the words she had spoken during her rant, she wished the ground beneath would just swallow her. Completely mortified by her actions she looked for an escape.

"Let’sJustPretendThisNeverHappened."

Jimin frowned upon hearing her, "I’m not okay with just pretending."

Regaining her composure she phrased her next words, "I am so sorry Jimin. This was never part of my plan. We were supposed to be best friends but i ruined it."

"We might as well have been dating this entire time," Jimin sighed

" I know I- Excuse me, wait what? You don't mean..." Y/n wondered if she heard correctly.

He cheekily smiled in return, "Are you going to panic again if I confess?"

"Why didn’t you say something sooner, you jerk!? I- Oh gosh, I could have saved myself from all the embarrassing moments and you are telling me this now? Like, really? Am I a joke-"

"Would you like me to say it now?" Jimin interrupted her mini rant

"Hey! No! Listen! Don't cut me off-"

"I love you," Jimin tenderly reached for her hand and for once she didn't move away

Silence. Like he expected.

"I love you," Jimin repeated.

She stared at him and he knew she was trying. Trying to find the right words.

"I love you more than just as my best friend"

"Why so suddenly?" The question lingering in her thoughts was finally spoken.

“I- Well- You know I’m not good with these confessions," Jimin sighed, "But the thing is- I couldn't- just ruin our friendship with my mistakes. You are my.. umm… priority... You’ve always been important. To me.”

"Why me?" Y/n squeezed Jimin's hand and he tried to be smooth with his confession.

"Well, I love your face. And the stuff on it like your eyes and that small mole beside your ear, which apparently are very red right now." He chuckled to which Y/n playfully glared at him, "Also the things around your face such as your hair. Y'know.. The thing is, it’s you, okay?.. it's just you. Only you, in general.”

Very smooth indeed.

On the other hand, the corner of Y/n's lips tugged upwards upon see their stuttering roles reversed. She ruffled his soft locks and smiled. But before she could reply, a bus stopped in front of them and soon became vacant as people began exiting it.

"Let's go home, dum dum," Y/n entered it.

Meanwhile, Jimin followed her, constantly nudging and whispering, "Hey, gimme an answer" "I literally just confessed thrice" "C'mon just once" "pLEaSe" All to which, Y/n either rolled her eyes or teased Jimin by ignoring him.

~

Jimin walked Y/n home but refused to move away from her doorstep, only staring off in space. It was silent until he broke it,

“If I even slightly pecked your lips, would you smack me? Because I want to kiss you, but not if you’re going to jab me in the ribs.”

"I will, in fact, jab you in the ribs if you do that without even taking me on a date"

Jimin immediately became giddy at the thought of a date with his best friend and quickly rummaged for his phone, typing a message. All while, Y/n stared at his antics, bewildered once she saw him look up at her eagerly. Her phone soon rang notifying a message and upon reading it she let out a laugh.

Jm🐥: I'll pick you up at 8, tomorrow morning. So dress up in any comfortable clothes since I will only take you back home at night.

She typed 'sure✨, dum dum' and entered her house, but not before giving Jimin a quick hug to which he responded by a tight squeeze.

Y/n leaned against the door frame after closing it and tried to control the erratic beating of her heart while the tender confession he whispered during their hug echoed in her ears like lullaby, throughout the night.

[post-itpenny]

The Challenge

So this is completely ridiculous but I’ve had the idea for a while and just really wanted to try writing some Dead By Daylight.

Yeah this is definitely ridiculous.

There were few things they could take comfort in while trapped in this never ending nightmare that the survivors called “The Game.”

The first being that despite how twisted and horrifying the game was, it did still have some semblance of a set of rules that both survivors and killers alike had to follow.

The second being that for some reason, despite coming from different countries and languages, they could all understand each other. They heard each other in their own languages except or obvious accents. It was strange and unnerving, something that became more disturbing as more and more survivors came claiming to be from different decades.

Jane speculated it was because they were dead, explaining to the others the last thing she remembered was flying off the road thanks to some black ice. Adam added that he had been in a train crash which he was certain he should not have survived. It was Kate that pointed out she had been literally yanked out of reality by The Entity and dropped by the campfire. Several others could attest getting lost or just walking into the fog by complete accident.

Perhaps it was another rule they didn’t fully understand. But then again, communication was vital during a trial. Regardless of the reasoning of The Entity the survivors all agreed it was a small comfort being able to speak with each other.

Which led to how everything started.

Dwight, Claudette, Nea, and Jeff had been pulled into a trial. The anxiety that came with waiting for those in a trial to return never lessoned. There had been a handful of survivors that only lasted a few rounds before completely breaking, dying in a trial and not returning to the campfire. No one wanted to think about what may have happened to those few but the fear someone else would break was always present.

Fifteen minutes in and Dwight had appeared, his clothes muddy and torn. The look on his face said it all- a mori.

��Ghost Face,” he groaned, “‘Dette was hooked and I ran to help her. Should have known it was too easy since he had already gotten me once.” Dwight sighed as he shrugged off his shirt and took the offered needle and thread from Quinten. The Entity could repair broken bones and gored flesh; heck, it even fixed Dwight’s glasses more than once. But it was apparently not a tailor.

From across the campfire Bill shook his head as he took a drag of his cigarette, “how the hell did he get you so fast boy?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Dwight snapped back with a slight whine in his voice, “I spawned in right next to the guy. I didn’t have a chance.”

Half an hour later the other three came back, Claudette seemed…. dumbfounded.

Nea was laughing hysterically.

“I would have paid anything the see his fuckin’ face!” She cackled. “You guys, guys! You won’t believe it!”

Apparently Nea had also tried to come to Claudette’s aid, hanging back in the tall grass as she saw Ghost Face pounce on Dwight. But then-

“So he’s fishing his camera out of a pocket and to take a picture and- an-“ Nea couldn’t continue, breaking into another fit of laughter. Claudette, who had seen everything, continued.

“Ghost Face took a selfie with Dwight’s body and Nea photobombed it.”

“He sat there for two minutes just staring at the stupid screen!”  Nea screamed between fits of laughter, Dwight gave  a huff of annoyance and half-heartedly shoved Nea off the log she sat on and flat on her back in the dirt, tears in her eyes with laughter.

Bill took another drag of his nearly dissolved cigarette and scowled. “That was bold but stupid, what if he turned around and stabbed you?”

“Oh come off it old man,” Nea scoffed, “pass me a cig from wherever the hell you get them from.”

“Nope, you’ll ruin your lungs.”

“Bill you-“

“So what's a photobomb?”

It had been Nancy that had asked, which considering it had been the 80’s last time she and Steve had checked no one could blame her. Confusion about slang did not change even if they could understand each other, the time gaps not helping. So it was explained what it meant to photobomb someone and as the realization of what Nea had done really started to sink in, most of the group could agree, it was hilarious.

But then two days later Ace decided it would be funny to sing “I Only Have Eyes For You” to the Nurse, leaving the apparition coming to a halt in her chase with Meg. He made it through the first verse before she seemed to pull herself together and swing at him with her bone saw. Ace died pretty quickly that round but that night at the campfire they were all in better spirits than they had been in a long time as they listened to Ace and Meg recount the story.

And so, the challenge was born.

There were several like Bill, Tapp, and Jane who saw it as reckless but even Claudette who was arguably one of the most level headed of them all pointed out that it wasn’t like anyone would die permanently. Plus, if it raised everyone’s spirits then wasn’t the risk worth it?

Even the survivors got bored with the monotony of one trial after another, so anything that could spice things up was welcomed by most.

It took some time to explain what a “meme” was, several failing since the best they could do was give examples that not everyone understood. But the idea got across soon enough and quickly led to Steve screaming “is that a cat?!” As the Demigorgon charged his way which led to Feng Min screaming “yeet!” As the Huntress threw a hatchet in Bill’s direction.

The Huntress didn’t seem to appreciate the humor as much as Feng Min did.

Perhaps the boldest came from Laurie who had at first been very much against the idea of taunting the killers in such a way. But she had been inspired, and there were very few things that could bring her as much joy as giving her brother any form of grief.

Kate and Quinten has been trapped in a corner of the ironworks, Michael staring them down as he prepared to strike-

But they were far more interested in Laurie who was standing an arm’s length behind him.

Michael lunged and they split in separate directions; Kate apparently being the unfortunate chosen as Michael chased her out of the ironworks and Quinten watched as Laurie followed right behind, just as stealthy and quiet as her brother could ever be. She followed him like this for nearly the entire match and when Michael did finally turn around to spot Laurie he skipped the usual protocol and went straight to a mori.

It was amazing and Quinten was well convinced Laurie could be just as dangerous as her brother given the right circumstances.

Many of them took turns playing like this, even at the risk of an early death the survivors found it worth it for just two minutes of a good laugh. They now had stories to share around the campfire aside from the mournful accounts of what they missed from their old lives. Even Jane eventually joined in, propping her arms up on a window ledge and holding a thirty second mock interview with an extremely confused Wraith with an imaginary microphone held out for his response.

They started repeating the antics of each other which infuriated some of the killers to no end. The Huntress especially really did not seem to like it when someone screamed “yeet.” But a challenge was still a challenge and the ultimate goal was to outdo each other.

Dwight often did not feel like a proper leader even though he somehow had found his way into the role. He didn’t like the idea of the others willingly throwing themselves in harm's way for the sake of a laugh. It already worried him to no end when Meg or someone else would lead a killer on the chase so the others could work on a generator. The theory that they would always come back as long as they had hope felt shaky to him at best. If The Entity could bring them back on a whim then surely it could just get rid of them if they proved too troublesome. It did make the rules of the game after all.

And yet…

Dwight was running as fast as he could, the leader of The Legion right behind him. He turned a corner and dashed for a pallet, hoping the killer had not reached a frenzied state yet. Dwight lept to the other side of the pallet and slammed it down in the killer’s face. He stood there for a moment as some speck of sanity seemed to snap and his brain went to autopilot.

Dwight dabbed and took off running again.

From behind him came a roar of laughter, spotting Nea he gave a grin as he dashed off into the cornfields of Coldwind Farms.

Later on he somehow made it out of the trial alive, giggling like mad as he sat down next to Nea.

“Did you see? That was amazing!”

“Y-yeah I saw you,” she stammered.

Dwight frowned, “look I know it’s not the most impressive but you still laughed-“

“That wasn’t me.”

“... what?”

“Dwight, that wasn’t me laughing. I was hiding in a corner, I wasn’t laughing.”

It was then Dwight realized the laughter he had heard was distinctly male.

Dwight slipped off the log in a dead faint.

[miserelysia]

“I Watched the Artemis Fowl Movie and It Made Me Very Upset” Liveblog!

So I decided I had to subject myself to this movie despite being Extremely Aware that it’s a massive pile of firey garbage. It was about as painful as expected, so I liveblogged to keep my sanity. Here’s basically what happened in my head while I was watching:

Josh Diggums: I feel so bad for Josh Gad's voice because it's painfully obvious they just didn't want Olaf showing up so they forced him into some terrible Bale-Batman voice that keeps cracking

why is this movie taking itself so seriously

Book Artemis: eternally unathletic dweeb

Movie Artemis: SURFING MASTER

the fuck, Branagh

THIS VOICE IS SO DAMN BAD, JOSH PLEASE STOP TALKING

okay Artemis is appropriately a little shit for EXACTLY ONE SCENE

FUCK OFF WITH FRIDGING THE MOM, BRANAGH

"ur mom's dead and ur dad's gone so ur a little shit" WHAT A GREAT COUNSELOR

fuck's sake

Book Artemis: immediately falls off whatever this hover thing is

COLIN FARRELL. SEXY MAN.

I ALMOST FORGIVE THEM FOR BRINGING HIM BACK EARLY

AND..... KNOWING ABOUT MAGIC

SDJFKSDF

WHATEVER

I WAS PREPARED FOR THIS

this voice is still terrible, Josh. I'm sorry

this kid is a pretty good actor

"all i really want is to believe in you" that was actually well-delivered

"Arty"

<sobbing>

OKAY IT'S NOT ACCORDING TO THE BOOK BUT FUCK ME THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS WELL DONE

i desperately need Butler to show up soon tho

I SPOKE TOO SOON

"DOMOVOI" ??!!?? YOU FUCKS

why

are his eyes

fucking ELECTRIC BLUE

HIS LITERAL FUKDFSUCING NAME IN THE BOOKS IS 'BUTLER' IT'S PART OF BEING AN INSANELY GOOD SECRET AGENT GUARDIAN HE'S NOT AN ACTUFL FUCKING BUTLER AND LITERALLY NO ONE EVER CALLS HIM "THE BUTLER" BUT HIS NAME IS BUTLER BECAUSE HIS REAL NAME IS SECRET HE'S FUCKING SECURITY FUCKING DID YOU READ THIS FUCKING BOOK SERIES AT ALL BRANAGH OR DID YOU JUSTDSJFKLDSHFSD:LFSEFAGH

i'm sorry

Butler is my absolute favorite character of the entire damn series and they fucking

can't even get OOOONNNNNEEEEEEEEE CHARACTER CORRECT

SCREAMS

did they think calling him "Butler" would be weird because they cast a black guy?????

AGAIN WHY WITH THE FUCKING ELECTRIC BLUE CONTACTS THEY'RE SO OBVIOUSLY FAKE IT LOOKS SO BAD. IF YOU MAKE THE DECISION TO CAST AN AFRICAN AMERICAN MAN JUST FUCKING OWN THAT HE HAS DARK EYES DON'T DO THIS

THE "OWL STAR"???? REALLY???? WHY NOT FOWL STAR

WHY

NOT

IT'S JUST SUCH AN ARBITRARY DUMBASS CHANGE IT MAKES NO SENSE

PLEASE DID I JUST MISUNDERSTAND THE REPORTER MAN

DID THE CAPTIONS JUST MISUNDERSTAND HIM?????

NOPE IT'S LITERALLY THE  O W L  S T A R

fuck off

i'm sorry

stuff like that just bothers me a lot

it makes ABSOLUTELY no sense to change it

Fowl Star made sense bECAUSE IT'S OWNED BY ARTEMIS FOWL

artemis has a lot more emotions than i remember him having

i will not forgive them for destroying the Butler/Artemis relationship in favor of a Dad they fucking fridge in the first half hour of the movie

oh boy nursery rhymes as codes

GROUNDBREAKING

i think the fairies would have something to say about you hiding their own shit from them, MISTER SENIOR

it's still a bad voice, Josh, I'm so sorry

okay Haven is pretty nice

"Haven" not "Haven City"

pretty sure

holly being a 13 year old girl is disconcerting

that was mentioned in a review

they're supposed to be Child-Sized not ACTUAL CHILDREN

also "small person = higher pitched voice" is such a stupid trope please stop

i like the Being diversity around the city

like lots of different types of humanoids

josh desperately wants to do the Olaf voice

i'm so sorry Josh

okay aside from the shit voice Diggums is pretty good

lol Cudgeon's already in jail

i

okay then

i know this is Opal Koboi

meh

i hate her in the books so they can fuck her up all they want

judi dench is batman too i guess

how many cigs you smoke judi root

OH BOY HOLLY HAS MISSING DADDY ISSUES TOO

fucking shit

"you're 84" and you look like a fUCKING THIRTEEN YEAR OLD

such bad choices

every time they say "Domovoi" i--

HISDFHSDHFH

JULIET

SHE'S

HIS

FUCKING

NIECE?????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????????

SDFJLS:DKF FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK YYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

FUCK YOU

FUCK

FUCK

FUCK YOU KENNETH BRANAGH

NO

NO

NO

NO

SHE'S

HIS

FUCKING

SISTER

HIS BABY SISTER HE LOVES AND CARES FOR EVEN MORE THAN ARTEMIS AND THAT'S A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT RELATIONSHIP THAN UNCLE AND NIECE

HOW COULD YOU LITERALLY DESTROY EVERYTHING ABOUT BUTLER AND STILL SLEEP AT NIGHT

<vomits into the sun>

eoin colfer i hope you made so much money off of this SHITSTACK

(genuinely tho that's literally the only consolation; now he can write more Good Books)

Juliet is cute but i know about all she does is make sandwiches

so fuck this

judi dench is Good

foaly is Okay

why's he wearing clothes tho

the chutes are a lot more... open than expected

BEECHWOOD SHORT THE TRAITOR

FUCK OFF

WHY IS HOLLY’S CHARACTER DEFINED BY HER FUCKING FATHER

THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE AN OUTCOME THAN I EVEN EXPECTED GIVEN THEY EVISCERATED HER CHARACTER'S DRIVE BY MAKING THE L.E.P. ALREADY HAVE FEMALE OFFICERS AND COMMANDERS

"get out cudgeon before i throw you out" okay they got Root completely right at least

aside from making him a her

but that's okay

because it's Judi Dench

awwwww happy flying scene bUT HOLLY YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE SHIELDED GOt DAMN

“any update?” "yes. i'm freezing" amazing, Butler

i mean dOmOvOi

HOLLY YOU'RE STILL NOT SHIELDED

CGI isn't too bad in this but honestly that's not impressive anymore

awwwww cute wedding scene

troll is about as ugly as possible

LOL JUST FUCKING THROW TIME FREEZE UP LIKE IT'S NOTHING

OKAY

LOL HOLLY GO DEAL WITH THE TROLL DON'T FOCUS ON ONE SMALL CHILD

THAT'S NOT HOW A TIME FREEZE WORKS

I

i mean it's COOL

i love the little Men in Green zipping around

but it doesn't make ANY sense

LOL SO WHY DO THE PEOPLE THINK THE PLACE IS TRASHED

lol gently floating troll

Hollyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Judi Root continues to be amazing

ok tbf Opal Koboi would be after the Aculos if it existed

OP MacGuffin plots are so tired tho like really Branagh

i love the wings on her suit

ARTEMIS WHEN DID YOU GET TO THE TREE

holly ur a bad 84-year-old officer

LOL CUDGEON IS RIGHT ON

AND JUDI ROOT CONTINUES TO BE

"Not Happy!" lol wat

who wrote that bit of dialogue and said "yes this a perfectly good thing to have her say when she wakes up in a cage"

"mesmerism"

boy i love these exposition dump convos between Mr. Sr. and Arty

LOL "most human beings are afraid of gluten, how do you think they'd handle goblins" is a great line

out of touch, but still funny

...why does the time freeze take forever to generate now when you did it in TWO SECONDS BEFORE

calm down holly damn

foaly's very pretty

sO DID THEY FREEZE THE *ENTIRE WORLD*????????

I THOUGHT THE POINT WAS TO FREEZE THINGS INSIDE SO YOU HAVE MOONLIGHT LONGER

AND

AND

whatever

i love this fucking ARMY coming out of literally everywhere

"TOP OF THE MORNIN'" OH MY FUCKING GOODNESS

whole movie is worth it

for that line

i love that they're entirely in green

and no one ever Shields

ever

they mentioned Shields once but NO ONE IS SHIELDED

BUTLER WOULD NEVER LET ARTEMIS INTO A FIGHT

SCREAMS

"TAKE THE SHOT"

WHY IS THE TIME FREEZE SO EASILY DESTABILIZED

FOALY

ARE YOU TELLING ME NO ONE HAS EVER SHOT YOUR FUCKING ENORMOUS DEVICE

omg no U GAVE OPAL KOBOI LEGITIMATE REASONS FOR DOING WHAT SHE'S DOING

YOU GAVE HER A SAD FRUSTRATING BACKSTORY

SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE AN ARROGANT SELF-SERVING BITCH AND NOTHING ELSE

TWENTY SEVEN MINUTES??????

hOW DID ARTEMIS KNOW ABOUT MULCH DIGGUMS SPECIFICALLY

lol that is 100% a completely inhumane prison what the fuck, fairies

why does Holly have human music

well i'm glad we didn't have to watch mulch almost eat a dude's head

"My father was kidnapped."

"My father is dead."

"Can I trust you?"

"You'll have to."

BUT WHY

WHAT IS THIS DIALOGUE

WHAT IS THIS CHARACTER PROGRESSION

THERE's NO REASON TO TRUST HER

OR TO NEED TO TRUST HER

THIS IS COMPLETELY UNEARNED AND STUPID

glad holly's entire character REVOLVES AROUND A MAN NOW, BRANAGH

LOL THEY JUST DIDN'T GIVE ROOT A FIRST NAME???

JUDI ROOT CONFIRMED

"listen to us, grunting at each other like a pair of hippos with a throat infection" LMAO

i hope that was Josh Gad improv

LOL HE JUST FUCKING DESTROYS EVERYTHING IN HIS WAY WHILE TUNNELING

YOU DIDN'T EVEN REALLY TUNNEL IN, MULCH

HOW DID YOU COME OUT OF A PAINTING

DO THEY HAVE PAINTINGS IN A BASEMENT???

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SHEETROCK OR WHATEVER

IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO EASY TO JUST

UGH

FOLLOW THE BOOK

COME ON

MULCH YOU ARE THE WORST BURGLAR

"what would your parents be" THEY'D BE CENTAURS MULCH

is... is Mulch on the second floor

HE TUNNELED THROUGH THE WALL ONTO THE SECOND FLOOR

artemis... just.. lets holly out

ok cool

LOL HIS NOSE HAIRS GROW AND MOVE LIKE TENTACLES

stupid and... funny? i guess

at least Cudgeon is the piece of shit he is in the book lol

oh boy troll time

BUTER WOULD NEVER LET MULCH DIGGUMS PICKPOCKET HIM

"jam all magic" OMFG THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE

BUTLER WOULD NEVER LET ARTEMIS FACE DOWN A FUCKING TROLL

LOL THEY JUST FIRE THE TROLL LIKE A BULLET

A TROLL-ET

DOMOVOI YOU ARE COMPLETELY USELESS WHAT THE FUCK

i wonder if kids even like this movie

omg butler couldn't even jump

i

i don't understand

he literally DOESN'T HELP AT ALL

IT'S HIS WHOLE THING

IS BEING ABLE TO KICK ASS

FUCKING COME ON BRANAGH

yeah fuck you branagh

are... are the fairies just DYING TO THE TIME FREEZE COLLAPSE???

"goodbye my friend. i'm sorry i was FUCKING USELESS"

branagh you're trying to activate my feelings with this Sad Death Scene(TM) but i am IMPERVIOUS because artemis has had NO RELATIONSHIP WHATSOEVER WITH THIS """DOMOVOI"""

COOL HE'S BACK NOW I’M SO GLAD ACTUAL FULL ON DEATH HAS ZERO CONSEQUENCES NOW THANKS TO OP FAIRY MAGIC

WHAT GREAT WRITING THIS IS

"i didn't cry did i" FUCK OFF

WHY IS IT SO DANGEROUS WHEN THE TIME FREEZE ENDS

WHY IS YOUR TECH SO SHITTY, FOALY

TIME FREEZES AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE DANGEROUS TO THE OCCUPANTS

THAT GOES AGAINST ALL OF FAIRY RULES

...okay and then it just ends..........?

Domovoi: "you have to try!"

Artemis: "i can't, tho"

Domovoi: "it's too dangerous!"

WHAT IS THIS DIALOGUE

WHO WROTE THIS ABSOLUTE DRIVEL

"the aculos for my father"

THE L.E.P. DOESN'T EVEN HAVE YOUR FATHER YOU ABSOLUTE DOOF

holly how do u know how to do this

the... the aculos is just the fucking Book?

i feel slapped in the face

she just recites the words and. and.

whatever

whatever

i'm done

GO FIND YOUR DAD WHO'S MAGICALLY BACK

WHY WOULD HE BE IN THE BED ARTEMIS

YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE A GENIUS

this girl who plays Holly cannot act

i'm sorry girl

MAGICALLY BACK DAD

HOORAY HOLLY'S CHARACTER CONTINUES TO BE DEFINED BY HER FATHER

FUCK

YOU

WRITERS

AND BRANAGH

BUTLER WOULD NEVER CRY, DOMOVOI

i like the cool earpiece they gave Judi Root to maybe? disguise her hearing aid?

Haven does look pretty cool

too much water above tho it’s not Atlantis guys come on

"i'm a criminal mastermind" LITERALLY WHEN DID YOU SHOW ANY SORT OF MASTERMIND BEHAVIOR OR CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR

BESIDES BRIEFLY KIDNAPPING HOLLY AND THEN IMMEDIATELY LETTING HER OUT

LMAO THAT LAST SHOT OF JULIET JUST LOOKING EXCITEDLY OUT OF THE WINDOW AT THE HELICOPTER WHILE EVERYONE LEAVES HER BEHIND

WHAT'S THE POINT OF THAT EVEN

THIS POOR GIRL YOU’RE JUST LEAVING HER ALONE

WOW THIS PRISON/INTERROGATION PLACE HAS LIKE

NO SECURITY

HI HOLLY WHY ARE YOU HERE??????

THIS WHOLE ENDING IS JUST THE STUPID CAP ON TOP OF A STUPID SUNDAE

i need to go listen to the books again now

[currantlee]

German Postillon articles about the US Election translated

@theeeveetamer sent me this post in which someone translated German Postillon headlines about the US Election. Der Postillon is a German satire website disguised as a newspaper, kind of the German equivalent to The Onion.

So, I translated one of the articles for her and it was really, really fun. So I thought I might do more and share it on my blog so hopefully more people can have a laugh!

But first of all...

Gotta keep the American Spirit on this blog everyone!

Before I continue though: Please keep in mind that the Postillon is a satire website! None of the news in this post are actually true, it’s just meant to have a good laugh. I am repeating this again: none of these are actually real! I also want to make clear that none of those were written by me, I merely translated them! Credit to all the original texts and pictures goes to the Postillon. Except for the American flag. Credit to flickr for that one.

Anyways, let’s go and hopefully have some laughs.

Experts are certain that Donald Trump is going to win the Election because 2020 has been a shitty year so far anyways

Washington D.C. – Joe Biden hopes to put an end to Trump’s presidency after four years: he is clearly ahead in the polls on this Election Day. Despite that, most experts are sure that Trump will win – because so far, 2020 has been a shitty year anyways!

“If you look at the average of the national polls, Joe Biden is currently more than 8% ahead of Trump,” politic scientist Marianne Waters from the renowned Princeton University explains. “This means that his lead is way greater than Hillary Clinton’s in 2016. Under normal circumstances, you’d say that he’s already won the Election.”

She pauses for a second. “But now, please think about what a fucked up mess of a year 2020 has been so far! And then, think again about whether or not the American people are that fucked up in their brains to elect this human catastrophic failure for four more years! We’re talking about a year in which a global pandemic is going rampant across the planet anyways, we’re seeing islamistic and nazi terror attacks at the daily and entire havens are exploding ‘completely by accident’! Is there anybody who seriously believes in a sensible result of this election?!”

At least, scientists aren’t fully ruling out the possibility of Biden winning the Election. However, because this is 2020, the chance of an asteroid hitting the earth five minutes after this has happened is nothing but small.

– Der Postillon, 3rd of November 2020 (Original title: Experten sicher, dass Trump gewinnen wird, weil 2020 eh schon ein Scheißjahr ist). Translated by Seaberry Siren

“Oh Shit!”  – Putin completely forgot to manipulate the US Election

Moskow – How can one be so scatterbrained! Wladimir Putin just realized to his very own horror that he completely forgot to manipulate the US Election. Now, his candidate Donald Trump is in trouble.

“Bljad! {T/N: Russian for “crap”} I knew I forgot something really important!”, Putin says. “But due to all the inner politics, the corona virus and all the other countries our hackers need to manipulate elections in, I totally forgot about the United States! This is just great!”

He turns to his assistant. “Dima! USA! Can we turn something around there? ... No? ... Really?! And if we deliver arms to the... How are those guys called again... Proud Boys? WHAT?! They already have enough of those?!? Oh well.”

However, in the end, Putin puts up with the situation after all: “Ah, we’ll see. Maybe everything will turn out fine one way or another.” He turns to his assistant again: “Dima, make an appointment with Donald Trump jr. as soon as possible! I heard he is is just as dumb as his father and has political ambitions as well. We’ll survive Biden until 2024.”

– Der Postillon, 4th of November 2020 (Original title: “Ach Kacke!” – Putin hat völlig vergessen, US-Wahlen zu manipulieren). Translated by Seaberry Siren with help from Theeeveetamer

Employees of the Oval Office try to stop Trump from tweeting “CIVIL WAR!!!! Kill all Democrats!”

Washington D.C. – While votes are still being counted all over the USA, dramatic scenes start to unfold in the White House. Currently multiple employees are trying to prevent President Donald Trump from grabbing his smartphone in order to tweet the words “CIVIL WAR!!!! Kill all Democrats!”.

“No Mr. President!”, an assistant shouts as she holds Trump’s arm. “Don’t do this! I have a family! I don’t want a civil war! Jack, restrain him, damnit! Anna, don’t stand there and stare so stupidly, help us! Ian, put his smartphone as far away as you can!”

In the meantime, countless citizens of the USA are wondering why Trump didn’t tweet anything for more than seven hours.

“Leave me alone!”, Trump cries as he desperately tries to reach his smartphone. “They want to steal my election by letting every vote count! Even those of the Democrats! I WANT TO SEE BLOOD!!!”

Meanwhile, outside of the White House, more and more people are speculating that Trump could accept a possible loss due to his silence on Twitter.

– Der Postillon, 4th of November 2020 (Original title: Mitarbeiter versuchen Trump davon abzuhalten, "CIVIL WAR!!!! Kill all Democrats!" zu twittern). Translated by Seaberry Siren

Not that as well! Half-Blind 100-year-old man who counts all the votes by his own dies of old age

Harrisburg – Oh no! Everything is going to take even longer now! James Reed, the 100-year-old man tasked with counting all the votes of the US Election surprisingly just died.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to task one man of his age with the counting of millions of votes,” the chief of the Electoral Office stated. “Unfortunately, he was the only one with a license for this important job.”

After the closing of the polling stations, Reed, who was responsible for counting the votes since the 1970s, traveled from state to state in order to count all the votes.

“He took his job very seriously. He’d often take 20 minutes in order to count a single vote,” an election assistant recalls as tears of gried run over her cheeks. “But just after he counted 92% of the votes at Michigan, he suddenly fell from his chair.”

The doctor who was called immediately could only confirm the death of the 100-year-old man.

The worst part is that Reed didn’t get to name a successor before his passing. This is why the authorities are desperately searching for a new person able to lift sheets of paper, read printed letters, ánd count one by one at the same time. Due to the American education system, this is going to be a challenge {T/N: Germans throwing a bit of shade here when their own education system isn’t something to be proud on either}.

– Der Postillon, 4th of November 2020 (Original title: Auch das noch! Halbblinder 100-Jähriger, der allein alle US-Stimmen auszählt, an Altersschwäche gestorben). Translated by Seaberry Siren

US Election: Trump lies way out in front

Washington D.C. – A good chunk of the votes of the US Election have been counted by now and there seems to be a trend: Donald Trump clearly lies way out in front! As expected, the President of the United States is taking the lead in the traditionally Republican states. But even in the Swing States, he already sees himself as the winner, even if it’s only with very little sanity.

“Trump clearly lies way out in front,” the politics expert Dean Jefferson affirms. “As in: he stands in front of an audience and lies their heads off!”

Many didn’t expect that Trump could lie way out in front this comfortably at this point of the cote count. Other less optimistic individuals had predicted a neck-and-airhead race {T/N: in German that’s Kopf-an-Hohlkopf-Rennen, literally head-on-airhead race} from the beginning.

– Der Postillon, 5th of November 2020 (Original title: US-Wahl: Trump lügt vorne). Translated by Seaberry Siren

Damned mess of a US Election STILL isn’t over!

Washington D.C. – FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!!! At some point, enough is enough, isn’t it? The damned mess of a US Election STILL isn’t over after three days of counting the votes because the people in some Federal States apparently can’t manage to count the ballots!

Seriously: can they even count at all? Didn’t they know that the voters like to turn their ballots in with a vote on them and that you have to count these votes in order to determine a winner?!?

An average election of the Federal Congress {T/N: they mean the German Federal Congress, also known as the Bundestag} is finished, predicted and decided one second after closing the polling stations {T/N: Yes, German elections are that boring}. An official end result is provided in the next morning at the latest! How in the world can the Americans be trundle as fuck like this?!?

Suggestion: we ignore the entire shitshow over there for the next few weeks until those idiots have punched their faces in and once the victor is clear, there is one short headline: “Winner of the US Election: [insert winner’s name here]”. Then this whole crap would... WHAT?? Biden takes the lead at Georgia by 900 votes? Wowowowow! Just a moment please, I’ll have a look at the livetracker. Did CNN already comment on this? Nate Silver already tweeted as well... This has to be it for Biden! Now it can’t take much longer!

OH MY GOD, HOW EXITING!!!

– Der Postillon, 6th of November 2020 (Original title: Verdammte Drecks-US-Wahl immer noch nicht zu Ende!). Translated by Seaberry Siren

“If I can’t have it, then nobody will!” – Trump sets the White House on fire

Washington D.C. – A victory of Joe Biden in the US election is becoming more and more likely. But the answer to the question whether the Democrat is really going to move into the White House could be decided by a completely different factor than the votes – because apparently, Donald Trump is trying to burn the White House down now.

“If I can't have it, then nobody will!”, the US President says as he spreads gasoline at strategic points while he starts laughing manically: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Shortly after, the Oval Office is up in flames. “Let’s see how Sleepy Joe will rule from a burned-down ruin!”, Trump exclaims with a shrill voice as he adds more fuel to the fire. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Burn, my little fire, burn!”

Directly before publishing this article, Trump realized that this wasn’t the best idea as he cut off his own escape route with the last bits of the fuel. “Oh! So this wasn’t very clever... IVANKAAAAAAA!! The Democrats set me on fire! Rescue the best president of all time!!!”

– Der Postillon, 6th of November 2020 (Original title: “Wenn ich es nicht haben kann, soll es keiner haben! – Trump setzt Weißes Haus in Brand). Translated by Seaberry Siren

"Enough!” – The Queen reclaims the United States for the British Empire

London – She’s got enough of this nonsense! Queen Elizabeth II. announced the return of the United States to the British Empire. A new, freshly assigned gouverneur will arrive in Washington shortly and take over the government business.

“We have been watching this unworthy ham without doing anything for far too long,” the Queen declared in a fiery speech. “It is time to return the colony where it belongs: into the lap of the United Kingdom. The experiment is hereby ended.”

Shortly after, the British Navy occupied important havens at the East Coast. On friday afternoon, Baltimore, Boston, Philadelphia and Miami had already been seized.

Apparently months of the global pandemic, national economic instability and a tiring election campaign did the trick: a wide range of the US population greeted the British soldiers euphorically and vowed to be loyal to the British Crown. “Long live the Queen!”-chants echoed through the streets.

Washington D.C. is still in the hands of the rebels lead by Donald Trump. However, observers believe that the British troops will seize the capital next week. According to the Queen’s orders, Trump will be put into chains and brought to Great Britain by ship in order to spend the rest of his days in the Tower of London by water and bread.

– Der Postillon, 6th of November 2020 (Original title: “Jetzt reicht’s!” – Queen unterstellt USA wieder der Britischen Krone). Translated by Seaberry Siren