#So maybe they brought that in by recycling it

[torturedtypewritersdept]

the sun + the sand - pt. one - origins

↳PAIRING: bff!rafe cameron x fem!reader

↳SUMMARY:you have a stalker, but your best friend rafe won't let anything happen to you, even if he has to come clean about how he really feels.

↳WARNINGS: mentions of stalking, blackmail, inappropriate behavior (not from rafe), protective!rafe, etc.

↳A/N: this is a repost from my old blog @illicitfixations + @lovelornanonymity. all of my works are being reposted to this one + the previous blog has been deactivated.

Rafe sat in the cab of his midnight blue ford, he felt the engine rumble through the leather of the seat he sat in. His fingers tapped in annoyance against the steering wheel as he waited for you. Your phone call was nothing short of the usual as you begged him sweetly to come scoop you up from your latest sexual escapade – John B Routledge. The first time, he had thought it was a fling, with you, it always was. He knew deep down, once you had your fair share of what a pogue could offer you; nothing, you’d settle down with Topper and spend your days the way you were meant to. He held out hope that this was a phase and nothing more. But, the more times you had asked him to pick you from the cut in the middle of the night, the more worried he got. The more times he did this with you, the more worried he was that you were falling in love. The thought destroyed him; he couldn’t blame John B, really; you were the most beautiful thing the island had ever seen with a personality to match. You spent your time chasing baby turtles through the sand for crying out loud and as much as he loved you, he knew that if he didn’t deserve the goodness of your heart, neither did John B. Rafe was brought out of his thoughts as his passenger door swung open and your ruby red lips were the first thing he took in as they wrapped themselves around a solo cup. 

“You cause enough trouble, today?” 

He said, giggling as he took you in, the glimmer of your eyes sending shivers down his spine, as it always had. You climbed into the truck with a giggle as you placed your back against the warmth of the heated leather. He knew you’d be cold as the October wind brushed against your tan legs. 

“Enough for the both of us.” 

You replied, giving him the bright smile he was so desperate to see all day. He grabbed your hand, pulling the cup from your hands, sniffing it and grimacing. 

“What the fuck are you drinking?” 

He asked incredulously. 

“I don’t know, one of John’s friend’s made it for me. It tastes like jungle juice.” 

You replied, giggling. 

“What did I tell you about taking drinks from strangers, huh?” 

 He growled. 

“Okay, grump pants. I thought I was fine. John was there. I was handling it.” 

You replied, shrugging your shoulders. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that John B doesn’t have your best interest at heart, sweetheart? You don’t know him well enough to be drinking around him. Not every guy will be as good to you as me, Topper, and Kelce.”

You rolled your eyes as Rafe finished his sentence and he threw the drink out the window, watching as the recycled plastic rolled against the grass. 

“Rafe! I’m thirsty, dammit!” 

He threw the truck in reverse, one hand on the back of your seat. You admired him, as you always did; the yellow t-shirt that hugged his muscles and the backwards cap that sat against his perfectly sculpted face. Rafe was something out of a magazine and you were no stranger to that, but he was also your best friend and it would have to stay that way. 

“I know you are.” 

He replied simply. You continued to watch him as he drove, the muscles of his forearm contracting every time he moved his arms. By the time he pulled into the gas station, you realized you were in a trance, a common occurrence when you were in his presence. There was a reason you called him instead of your other two stooges late at night. Maybe he knew or maybe he didn’t. Rafe stepped down from the truck, moving toward the gas pump and inserting his debit card before inserting the pump into his truck and waiting until it stopped. He made his way around the car only moments later and opened your door. 

“What are you doing?” 

You questioned him with furrowed eyebrows as he grabbed your hand and eased you down from the height of his truck. 

“I’m buying my favorite girl a slushie, what are you doing?” 

He replied, playfully and you smiled as you walked beside him. Once you finished the journey across the parking lot, Rafe stepped ahead of you and you wanted to punch him for it at first. That is, until he held the door open and you walked through the door of the gas station. He was kind with you and you never tell anyone the version of him that you go to see. You’d never tell anyone that the big, bad, Rafe Cameron had a heart of gold. You’d never tell anyone he was a big ol’ teddy bear deep down. You followed him to the slushie machine, where he lifted the knob, pouring the red liquid into your cup and the blue into his. You thought the color variations were interesting and a tell of how different the two of you really were – fire and ice, warmth and hostility, all wrapped in one blanket to mend together two people who couldn’t live without the other. 

The two of you exited the store together, retreating back to his truck before you spoke again. He handed you his iced beverage, the polar bear on the outside of it reminding of your childhood. Rafe knew this and he knew that’s why you loved slushies, yet it perplexed him why you only shared them with him. He placed the keys in the ignition, turning them over as the engine roared to life. You compared a lot of things to Rafe, almost every boy, every scenario, every situation. Yet, none of those things made you feel as alive as five minutes alone with him. You wondered if he knew. You wondered if he was capable of understanding that he held the key to the diary of you. You handed him his slushie and he gave you a smile as he watched you put your seatbelt on, knowing he had no intentions of going anywhere any time soon. 

“What are you smiling at?” 

You questioned him, returning the sentiment. 

“Just how crazy you are.” 

He replied, chuckling and watched as your eyes lit up as you sucked the cold bits of your beverage through the straw. 

“You always rescue me from my crazy antics, though, so I'd say it's worth it.” 

You said, struggling your shoulders and continuing to slurp down the cold goodness. 

“Who was there tonight?” 

He questioned, his tone turning serious, though doing his best to keep it light enough to avoid your suspicious gaze. 

“Me and John b and some of the other pogues.” 

You replied. 

“What other pogues?” 

He asked with more edge in his voice. 

“Uh, I don't know. That JJ kid I think and pope.”

You answered him, wondering why he had that scared look in his eye. 

“Who made you the drink?” 

He questioned. 

“Why, Rafe? Why does it matter?” 

He rolled his eyes at your question. You couldn’t be this naive, he thought. You couldn’t be this careless. 

“Because it just does! How the hell am I supposed to protect you if I don’t know who you’re hanging around when you call me at three in the morning?” 

He grunted out, throwing his head back in exasperation. 

“Oh, uhm. JJ. He made the drink. Listen —, I’m uh, I’m sorry for calling a lot. I won’t call anymore, I didn’t mean to make you upset.” 

You swallowed thickly after the words spilled out of your mouth in a sense of urgency. You only called because you wanted to see him and you knew he’d come. But, you didn’t think about how selfish that was until right now. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. 

“Sweetheart, no. I always want you to call. I just — I need to know you’re safe and JJ Maybank is not safe, okay?” 

You nodded in response. 

“What do you mean he isn’t safe, Rafe?” 

You never questioned Rafe; not when it came to things of importance. But, you felt the need to now and you weren’t sure why. 

“He has a reputation with girls, okay? All you need to know is that he’s not safe and I’m not gonna tell you not to spend time with John B, I know you wouldn’t listen. So, from now on, I don’t care what’s going on, if you’re uncomfortable, you fucking call me, yeah?” 

His tone was laced with venom. 

“Yeah” 

You responded, swallowing thickly before laying your head on his shoulder. You knew no matter what that Rafe would always take care of you and you’d do the same for him. 

as always, please let me know if you'd like to be added to my taglist :)

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

[beeseverywhen]

Been reading about underground bins in Liverpool and also how now they don't need the alleys for bins in some places they've cleaned them up and put like plants and seating in them so they can sit with their neighbours and wow I'm having intense feelings of envy. I don't know what I want more, underground bins or a clean alley lol

[fingertipsmp3]

It does haunt me when people remember things about me that I don’t remember. I’m ngl

[seat-safety-switch]

There's a really non-obvious consequence to all those "smart" appliances out there. Your average corporation lasts less than ten years before it's acquired, goes bankrupt, or is no longer doing the thing it first started out doing. However, all those internet-of-things gadgets still need someone to be paying the server bill, otherwise half of the features go "poof."

This is great for me: I get cheap appliances, tools, construction robots, and pseudo-sentient war machines because most of their functionality required a now-nonexistent web service to be working. For instance, this oven I pulled out of a ditch works perfectly fine to cook food, but the "Turkey Mode" that makes an obnoxious gobbling sound on Thanksgiving Day no longer activates on its own.

Not everything is as lucky. Lots of gadgets are just totally useless, so they get turned into other things. A lobotomized robot lawnmower quickly became a regular ol' human-operated lawnmower with the attachment of a Princess Auto two-stroke engine and a very, very long wood pole. And then there's the stuff that just gets plain weird.

A few weeks ago, I got a new microwave from the "gettin' spot." It was due to be recycled, to be turned into some other microwave. I figured it would still work perfectly fine, so I brought it home, plugged it in, and got ready to heat up some Pizza Pockets. Nothing doing: the screen had only one functional "app" remaining.

On its flickering high-dollar OLED screen, I saw the words "death prediction date." And, clicking on it, the microwave began to read out an entirely plausible date and cause for my personal demise. For a couple days after, guests to my house were also amazed by the microwave's chillingly reasonable projection of their inevitable fatal accident or terminal illness.

I'll never know why the Guangzhou Champion Home Appliance Company imbued the microwave with such an eerie memento mori, but I am grateful for it. The whole experience taught me that life is short, far too short to listen to some snarky-ass microwave that won't even cook a Pizza Pocket. If it's so smart, maybe it should have guessed that I was going to drag it behind my truck on the highway until the transformer – with its delicious, copper-rich windings – fell out.

[angelfic]

— I MISS YOU, I’M SORRY.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: you haven’t seen theo since he supposedly left you to join the other side. now that he’s back and has revealed his true intentions to you, you’re finding it hard to be forgiving.

warnings: swearing, kissing, tiniest bit of angst, very unedited. not much else other than a whole load of waffle… my bad

author’s note: this is a sort of fix-it fic… kinda. yes I am very much stealing the essence (you could say) from marauders fics because I prefer writing those and yes it’s basically this drabble recycled and yes grimmauld place is still the order headquarters well into the war just don’t question my timeline and you’ll be fine ok ty enjoy xoxo

12 Grimmauld place feels unsettling at the best of times, what with the portrait of Walburga Black hurling insults at you every time her curtain slips open and the row of shrunken house-elf heads mounted on the wall. The Order of the Phoenix holding hushed up meetings in the dining room while you and your friends are forced to stay upstairs isn’t anything new or surprising, but the last few days feel different.

Instead of Mrs Weasley telling members of the Order to whisper when you, her kids and Harry and Hermione are in the room, she flaps about ordering them to stop talking altogether. At first you think you’re imagining it when her eyes flick over to you every time, until you bring it up to Ginny and Hermione.

“You’re not imagining it,” Hermione mutters as she shuts the door of the bedroom and casts a quick Muffliato charm before settling cross legged on the bed opposite you and Ginny. “I overheard Mrs Weasley and Tonks in the kitchen this morning, talking about how the Order is arranging transport for some Death Eater spies to come back here.”

You gasp, pretending to be scandalised. “You mean you were evesdropping. That’s not very prefect-y of you.” Ginny snorts at Hermione’s indignant glare and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way her cheeks have slightly reddened. “Sorry, sorry, you know I’m kidding. But what’s that got to do with her looking at me like I’ve gone through a personal tragedy?”

“Your ex-boyfriend did leave you to go join the Death Eaters,” Ginny points out. Hermione gapes at her, but Ginny merely throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, he did! No point beating around the bush!”

A lump rises in your throat at the mention of Theodore. Truth be told, you’ve tried not to think about what happened since the last time you spoke about him. ‘Spoke’ being a strong word since it was mostly crying and sniffling and blowing your nose into tissue after tissue in Ginny’s room at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had made your favourite dinner that night and brought you up a hot chocolate to make you feel better. And it really had- so much so that you refused to speak about him since.

You’re more angry than you are sad now, which makes you nod at Ginny’s words. “You’re right. He’s an arsehole, there’s no point in tip-toeing around it for my sake.” Hermione frowns a little, worry clear as day on her face, but you don’t stop talking. “Besides, we’re on opposite sides and this is a war happening. Not some silly, childish break-up. He chose to be a Death Eater and if we have to fight him, so be it.”

Hermione and Ginny stay quiet for a few seconds and watch you breathe heavily. Thankfully, before either of them can speak, Harry and Ron come bursting into the room.

“They’ve only gone and brought Death Eaters into the bloody building!” Ron shakes his head.

Harry snorts at Ron’s dramatics. “Ex-Death Eaters. Apparently. Still a bit dodgy, in fairness.”

“I thought they were spies,” you say, unable to help your curiosity as you stand up. Ginny and Hermione follow you out of the room as you all peak over the bannister to try and get a glimpse of the action downstairs. Annoyingly, there only seem to be a couple of dishevelled looking Order members milling around.

“Maybe Mrs Weasley and Tonks got it mixed up, or maybe they aren’t privy to what’s going on…” Hermione frowns, deep in thought. “I don’t think anyone but Dumbledore knows what’s actually going on.”

Harry makes an irritated sound. “What’s new?”

“Oh, by the way, Mum sent us up to get you lot for dinner,” Ron says absentmindedly as he tries to get a good look over your shoulder at whatever is happening in the hall downstairs. “Mind you, that was before all the Death Eater business so she’ll probably send us right back up.”

The five of you quickly shuffle downstairs to get to the dining room and while your stomach is growling loud enough to forget any thoughts of Order business, Ron and Harry linger in the hall a little in an attempt to get some answers. You don’t doubt Harry will get some, being the Chosen One and all.

You nudge and elbow your way into the dining room where you’re happily surprised to see a messy-haired Tonks yawning over a bowl of soup. She smiles sleepily when she spots the three of you.

“Hi, girls,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Merlin, I’m exhausted. I keep falling asleep in my soup. Good thing it’s mushroom.” She points to her newly platinum blonde hair that matches the contents of her bowl.

“Why’re you so tired?” Hermione asks as she ladles some soup into bowls for you, Ginny and herself. Her voice is quiet as not to attract attention from Mrs Weasley with her questioning. “Is it to do with tonight’s, uh, Order business?”

“Yep.”

Tonks looks as though she’s about to drift off and Ginny seems to jump at the opportunity to gather information.

“So, what are their names?” She gets straight to the point, glaring at you when you choke on your soup a little, not expecting her to be so blunt.

You and Hermione stop eating and wait with bated breath for Tonks to refuse to answer. She merely yawns again, before talking. “You’ll meet them soon enough.”

“Meet them?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Aren’t they… uh, you know… dangerous?”

“Dumbledore doesn’t seem to think so,” Tonks says, shrugging. You grow a little frustrated at this, since Dumbledore isn’t exactly known for having straightforward plans. While you know his intentions are good, someone he thinks is safe could very well be the opposite. While you ponder this, Tonks’ next words quickly turn your irritation into shock. “The others were understandably quite wary, what with one of them being You-Know-Who’s son and everything, but…”

You feel a ringing in your ear and every word coming from Tonks may as well be directed to her mushroom soup because you aren’t listening anymore. You-Know-Who’s son. You haven’t seen Mattheo since term ended, and even then it was only from a distance. You hadn’t spoken to him since Theo revealed his Dark Mark to you and you’d since avoided his entire friend group like the plague. If Mattheo is in the building, you can only hope and pray that Theodore isn’t with him.

Vaguely aware of someone shaking you by the shoulder, you snap out of your thoughts. “Who else is with Mattheo?” you ask Tonks, your voice sounding rough to your own ears. She blinks through her sleepiness, slightly startled awake by your unwavering eye contact. “Voldemort’s son. Who’s with him? What do they look like?”

You’re so focused on getting an answer from Tonks, and Hermione and Ginny are clearly on the same page as you now since they’re both silent and waiting for a response, that none of you notice Mrs Weasley entering the dining room.

“Tonks, is he blonde or-?”

“Enough!” Mrs Weasley interrupts you hastily, making everyone jump. She sounds panicked, but the look she throws Tonks is stern, like a warning to keep silent. When she turns back to you however, her eyes soften and her voice is gentle, albeit with a hint of annoyance. “I asked Dumbledore not to bring them here while everyone was awake. I didn’t want you all upset again, dear. Look, you can have your dinner upstairs, I’ll bring it up to you!”

You’re grateful for her concern, but it’s a little hard to feel anything other than the pit in your stomach since she’s just confirmed what you were dreading.

Ginny speaks up first, angry on your behalf. “Mum, she deserves to know if that awful git is in the same house as her! I say she ought to go and deck him in the face.”

“Ginny!” Hermione looks at her in exasperation as Mrs Weasley gasps, horrified. “That sort of attitude isn’t going to help anyone.”

“You’re right,” you mumble, getting up from your seat.

Hermione lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“I should go and deck him in the face.”

Hermione’s sputtering falls to deaf ears as you abruptly leave your seat to go out into the hall, the scraping of chairs behind you indicating that everyone is following closely.

Realistically, you have no plans to actually hit Theodore. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever successfully landed a punch before in your life. This doesn’t stop you charging into the hallway and elbowing your way through the huddle of Order members to get to the door they seem to be crowded around.

Kingsley Shacklebolt is the last of them to stumble out of your way, clearly too surprised by your sudden presence to continue guarding the door. You raise a shaky hand to the doorknob and hesitate for a second, suddenly nervous. Kingsley takes this moment to snap out of his surprise and redirects his attentions to what you’re about to do next.

“My dear, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to-”

“Kingsley, do you have any idea why I’m standing here?” you say curtly, cutting him off.

He throws a quick glance at Mrs Weasley, almost as if it’s by reflex. Clearly she’s told more people than Dumbledore to keep word of Theodore far from you. “I, uhm, I may have heard a thing or two…”

“Right, so are you going to stop me entering this room, then?” you ask boldly. Your voice catches slightly on the end of your sentence and Kingsley falters a little.

“Well, really I should-“ he begins, eyes darting to your own slightly teary ones. He sighs. “No, I’m not. Just try not to hex the boy.”

He steps out of your way and you finally barge into room, the door swinging open as you stay lingering near the entrance. The room is just as dingy as the rest of the house, lit up by some candles dotted around the room

You first see Professor McGonagall getting up abruptly from her chair where she was previously sat next to a standing Dumbledore. He merely peers at you over his half moon spectacles and raises his eyebrows.

You suddenly feel a little silly, and rude for barging in like that. “Sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I-“

You stop talking when see movement on the other side of the room from the corner of your eye. Just as Tonks had said, Mattheo Riddle, son of Lord Voldemort is standing right there, flanked by Lorenzo Berkshire… and Theodore. Your mouth goes dry.

As soon as you catch his eye, he smiles broadly at you. You don’t return the gesture, taking his appearance in instead. He’s thinner than the last time you saw him. No visible injuries, but he’s definitely seen better days. His dirty blonde hair is overgrown and unruly as it falls into his eyes which, despite brightening up at your presence, are tired.

You keep your expression as impassive as you can, slightly angry with yourself at the twinge of concern you feel. It was all well and good interrupting whatever meeting was happening in here before you came in, but now that you’re here… you have no idea what to do or say.

Theo’s smile falters when you continue to stand there with clenched fists and a stony face and you’re tempted to just run out of the room when Dumbledore clears his throat.

“Well,” your Headmaster says pleasantly, as though you were all engaged in polite conversation rather than a strained silence. “This reunion was certainly a little earlier than anticipated, but I suppose that can’t be helped. I think we ought to give Mr Nott and Miss Y/L/N a moment alone.”

“Uh, can’t we stay in here too?” Lorenzo asks with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting to the watchful crowd standing right outside the door. You can’t blame him for wary, being an ex-Death Eater in a house full of Order members.

Mattheo nods, throwing an arm around Theodore’s shoulder, ignoring the glare he receives. “Yeah. These two won’t mind a bit of company. Right?” he asks you cheerfully. You blink at him.

“Relax, Berkshire,” Professor McGonagall says, rolling her eyes at the way Lorenzo has inched further into the room. She snaps her fingers to get them moving out the door. “Nobody is going to hex you, you silly boy.”

“Can’t say the same for Theo,” Mattheo mutters as he walks past you and follows everyone out, shutting the door.

You don’t really have any choice but to look at Theo now. He tries a smile again, despite the fact you’re not returning it and he takes a step towards you.

You immediately step back.

Theo flinches ever so slightly, his eyes unable to hide that he’s hurt.

Good, you think viciously.

Sighing, he looks at you imploringly like he wants to say something, but can’t find the words. “You’re angry with me,” he settles on muttering, his voice quiet in the dark room.

You let out a derisive laugh. “Angry? You worked that out, huh? Death-Eater’s didn’t completely addle your brain then, did they?”

“Darling, please let me explain,” Theo pleads, taking another few steps towards you.

Rather than stepping back, you whip out your wand and point it right at him. He doesn’t back away, merely raising his hands in surrender and arching an eyebrow as if to ask you if you’re serious. This angers you further.

“Do not call me darling,” you hiss, raising your wand further. Theo doesn’t react, as though he knows you’d never actually use magic to hurt him. Your hand trembles with the weight of the realisation that no, you wouldn’t hurt him. That you’ve actually been more worried that becoming a Death Eater would get him hurt than him betraying you. He left you with nothing but a cold goodbye and you still can’t help caring.

Feeling stupid, and a little bit pathetic, you drop your hand to your side and allow him to continue standing before you as he lowers his hands. You grit your teeth and cross your arms. “Explain.”

Theo lets out a relieved breath. “I never wanted to leave you,” he says, and you immediately roll your eyes. “I- no, look at me. I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t explain the fact that you did,” you deadpan, turning away to leave. Theo quickly reaches out to grasp both of your arms and gently turns you towards him.

You stiffen at the first physical contact you’ve had with him in months, your body betraying you and erupting goosebumps all over your arms in spite of your anger.

“I lied about it to protect you,” he whispers, peering at you through the strands of hair that are stubbornly falling into his eyes from weeks of neglect. Theo looks slightly pained and you recognise his expression to mean that he’s desperately trying to phrase his next words correctly. His eyes flick over to your right arm. No. To his left wrist, where you know his Dark Mark to be. “You can ask Dumbledore if you don’t believe me… Me and the others only ever took the Mark so we’d be able to spy on The D- on him.”

The relief hits you like a freight train and lightens your heavy chest all in one go. You hadn’t just felt betrayed by your boyfriend leaving you all those months ago. You had felt dread at the possibility of him joining a Pureblood supremacist’s cult. Dread at the idea that the views he’d shared with you were all lies and that he was a completely difference person to the one you loved.

Despite the relief, the sting of the breakup still lingers with you.

“That meant you had to be a prick when you left me?” you ask, voice shaking against your will. His eyes soften.

“Yes,” he says weakly. “How else could I have left you without worrying that… that he could use you against me if he found me out? I never wanted to take the Mark and it killed me when I saw the look on your face.”

Your scowl, trying your best to distract Theodore from the fact that your vision has gone blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes. By the look on his face, you doubt you’re doing a very good job. “Do you really think I would have cared about a fucking tattoo, if you had just told me the truth?”

“No, I know,” Theo sighs, absentmindedly drawing closer to you. “I’ll explain anything you want, but the work we did was too close to The Dark Lord to risk telling anyone about at the time. Dumbledore made me, Mattheo and Enzo swear not to say anything. It was safer that way.”

“Did you make an Unbreakable Vow?” you whisper, stiller than ever.

Theo furrows his brows. “No, but-”

You pull away from him abruptly and back away to the door, ignoring the way his hands reach out in an attempt to hold your arms again. “Then I hope the information you got for Dumbledore was worth it.”

You don’t look back at him, nor do you check to see if anyone is in the hallway as you run upstairs and into your room, slamming the door shut as you lean against it, breathing heavily. You stay there for a while, reeling from your anger and irritation at the fact you still have to stay in this bloody house while Theodore’s in it.

The next few days are confusing to say the least. Theo doesn’t seem to have any plans to avoid you, but he respects your space.

Sort of.

He isn��t badgering you every second of the day, but somehow whichever room you’re in, he finds himself in as well. Whenever you try and reach for something, even if it’s not on a particularly high shelf, or particularly far away, Theo beats you to it, ever the gentleman.

It’s starting to unnerve you a little.

One particular afternoon, you walk into the kitchen hoping to make a cup of tea in peace. At the table sits Theo, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. When he spots you, he sits up straighter and you dawdle stupidly at the entrance.

Before you can snap out of it and remember what you came in here for, Theo gets up and walks over to the mugs. “Tea?” he asks politely, and, you think, a little hopefully.

“Will you make it and let me drink it alone?” you ask bluntly.

“I’ll make it and sit with you in silence,” he offers, undeterred despite your coldness.

Narrowing your eyes, you glance at the clock and sigh. It’s too early in the morning to put off having your tea, so you allow it. “Fine. Milk and-”

“Two sugars,” he cuts you off with an annoyingly smug smile. “I remember.”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, but stay silent as he turns his attentions to the kettle. Theo’s face quickly falls when he realises he has no idea how to use it. Your impassive expression almost cracks and you have to bite back a laugh as he examines the thing. Walking over to the counter, you drag the kettle so that it’s closer to you. And so you don’t have to be as close to Theo, but that’s besides the point.

“It’s already filled with water, you just need to flip the switch so it starts boiling,” you explain, pointing to the little part. Theo places his cigarette in between his lips as he furrows his brows, clearly skeptical of the muggle contraption. You suppose you can’t blame him since you, Hermione and Harry have had to explain the kettle to countless members of the Order since it was introduced to the house a few months ago.

You still don’t know where the plug socket is and considering the fact that Grimmauld Place has never inhabited muggles, you aren’t going to bother asking.

When Theo flicks the switch and sees the light turn red, a satisfied smile graces his lips where the cigarette still hangs. You look away from his mouth very quickly and go to sit down. Unable to leave without making things awkward, you decide the only thing to do is watch Theo make two cups of tea. He doesn’t need instruction since he knows exactly how you like it, but something catches in your throat when he uses a green mug. Your favourite colour.

The only sound in the kitchen is the clink of the spoon swirling in the cups and Theo soon brings both cups over with an incredibly concentrated frown to make sure there’s no spillages as he sets one down on the table. The other he hands to you himself and you have to clench your jaw when you grab it, your own hands brushing against his, which he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to move away.

“Thanks,” you mutter, trying to use the burning heat of the mug against your skin to distract from the fact that you have tingles.

“S’alright,” he replies, a barely restrained grin on his face. You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of the mug as you sip your tea.

Damn, you think to yourself. Why is it always so good when he makes it?

The two of you settle into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you drink your tea and he smokes. The puffs are very carefully directed away from you, but you can’t help wrinkling your nose out of habit. Back when you were still together, you were always firm about him cutting down and now you have to restrain yourself from reaching over and plucking the cigarette out of his lips to throw it away like you used to do with ease. He never objected.

Theo notices your looks all the same, and it’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts. He raises a brow, almost daring you to remove the cigarette yourself. “You want me to stop?”

“I don’t care,” you say in an attempt to sound nonchalant. Shrugging, you try your hardest not to react to his obvious bait, but it’s like a bloody reflex. “It’s your lungs on the line, not mine. If you want to lose five years off your life, then by all means, go ahead. I really couldn’t care-”

“As you wish,” he interrupts you, grinning like an idiot again. The next thing you know, he’s putting out the cigarette, and sipping his tea instead. He doesn’t even like tea.

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” you grumble, slightly pleased nonetheless.

He merely hums, taking a gulp of his tea. You accidentally let out a snort of laughter when he grimaces at the taste. Theo’s lips quirk up in amusement when you laugh, unrestrained and it’s only when you catch him staring at you that you quickly stop.

The smug expression on his face quickly returns as though he knows you’re finding it hard to be fully angry at him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snap, drawing your knees up on your chair towards your chin. “You look stupid. And your hair is too long.”

Theo huffs out a surprised laugh. “My hair is too long?” he asks incredulously, reaching up to tug a piece down so it reaches the bottom of his nose. “Hm, you’re right. You cut it pretty good that one time. Would you do it again for me?”

“Mrs Weasley is better at it,” you say, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’m sure she’d be delighted if you just ask.”

“The way she looks at me, I’d be lucky to get away with my head still attached to my body,” he drawls, wholly unimpressed by your suggestion. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m not done being angry with you yet,” you reply simply, draining the contents of your mug. “Trust me when I say you don’t want me anywhere near your head with a pair of scissors either.”

Theo nods slowly, a smile gracing his lips— strange, since you just threatened physical violence. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re not going to be angry with me forever.”

“I- Well, I didn’t mean-” you stutter pointlessly, cutting yourself off with a sigh. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early for this, leave me alone.”

“That was the first cigarette I’ve had since before I left,” Theo says quietly, searching your face for a reaction, almost nervously.

You aren’t quite sure how to respond to this random piece of information and you find yourself floundering. “Uhm. Okay, good. That’s… Yeah, that’s great for you and your lungs, well done. Saves money too. They were actually, uh, saying on the news the other day that the average amount people spend on-”

“Darling, as much as I appreciate it, that’s not what I’m getting at,” he interrupts, the ghost of a smirk at his lips. You scowl at him for letting you go on for so long and motion for him to get to the bloody point. “Every time I brought a cigarette to my lips, I remembered you weren’t going to be there to nag me about it. It just feels pointless now.”

You stare at him. “Nice to know that my nagging was what you remembered me by.”

“That’s not-” Theo cuts himself off with a laugh that sounds halfway to a groan. “Merlin, you’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can get a word out, Harry walks in which you find odd considering it’s so early in the morning and him and Ron are usually only out of bed when Mrs Weasley yells them down for breakfast.

“Morning,” he says through a yawn. The greeting is directed at you, but he sends an expectant look at Theo right after. “Time to leave, Nott.

“Leave for where?” you ask before you can help yourself. You realise with a start that Harry and Theo are dressed and ready while you’re still in your pyjamas. “Where do you have to go?”

“Horcrux hunting,” Harry says flippantly, as though he’s just announced he’s going fishing. Hermione had filled you in on the information Theo and the others had ascertained from their time with Voldemort, but you didn’t even consider them or Harry would actually be going with the Order to find them. “Nott and the others know more than we do, so they’re coming with.”

You level a look at Theo, who seems to be pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. “Thanks for sharing that tiny tidbit of information, by the way,” you mutter sourly.

He winces, getting up slowly from his chair. “It, uh, didn’t seem that important. It’s only a quick little task anyway. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m not stupid,” you scoff, standing up so you can attempt to look a little more dignified as you confront Theo. Harry, on the other hand, looks as though he regrets his decision to enter the kitchen in the first place. Despite this, you hadn’t missed the way he furrowed his brows when Theo spoke. “Even if Harry wasn’t looking at you like you were speaking gibberish, I would know that you’re lying. It’s a Horcrux you’re leaving to get. Not the weekly food shop.”

Harry snickers at this, though quickly turns it into a cough when Theo sends him a withering glare. Sighing, you decide to ignore him for the moment and turn to Harry instead

“Be safe,” you say, gentler than before. “And don’t be a hero, just try and get out of there safely.”

“Pfft,” Harry waves you off, a sarcastic tone entering his voice. “When have you known me to do that?”

You roll your eyes, cracking a smile as he walks away, supposedly to find the rest of the group.

“Don’t I get a ‘be safe’ as well?” Theo tries for a casual, joking voice. A hint of irritation seeps through it though. You shift on your feet a little awkwardly, slightly flustered at his obvious jealousy.

“Uhm, okay. Bye,” you say stiffly, fiddling with the loose string of your cardigan sleeve so you have something to do with your hands other than ball them up at your sides. Theo seems to be satisfied with the curt response, or more likely your lack of insults, and he nods, turning away to leave. As you watch him walk away, a familiar sense of anxiety bubbles up in your stomach and you blurt out the only thing you can think of. “Don’t die!”

He slowly turns around, very clearly holding back a grin. You think you might thump the boy. “Will you forgive me if I come back alive?”

“Well,” you huff, crossing your arms. As petty as it may be, you’ve always found it hard to loosen a grudge. You settle for a shrug instead. “Come back alive first and then I’ll see.”

Theo takes two steps forward and closes the short distance that was previously allowing you to keep a cool- well, cool-ish, head. He keeps both arms behind his back, however, as he dips his head down slightly.

“My sweet, stubborn girl,” Theo says in a low voice. His proximity flounders you for a moment and you don’t even protest that no, you’re not his anything. The way your breathing turns shallow would be contradicting that greatly though. “I’ll try my best. And if I don’t come back alive, I promise you can yell at my ghost.”

You scowl, and this time you actually do thump him on the arm. “You’re not funny, you idiot. Now, go. I can already hear Mattheo irritating the patience out of Harry.”

Theo gives you a little two-fingered salute and a wink before he walks away again, leaving you alone with a funny feeling in settling in your stomach.

You aren’t the only one who sits anxiously in the living room waiting for the group to return with the infamous Horcrux. Ron has eaten his way through three bowls of cereal and rapidly makes a start on his fourth while Hermione tries to distract herself with reading a book that she hasn’t noticed is upside down.

After another hour goes by, Ginny, who was previously pacing up and down the stairs, sighs and turns Hermione’s book the right way up which startles her, causing her to give up altogether.

You sit cross-legged and completely still, other than switching your legs every time one of them goes numb. Eventually, you get so sick of watching Mrs Weasley mop over the same spot on the floor for the fifth time that you jump up from your seat, causing her to start and knock over the bucket of dirty mop water all over the floor.

“Oh, dear,” she mutters, waving her wand and siphoning all the water up in a second.

“Sorry, Mrs Weasley,” you say, wincing. “I’m just a little stressed since it’s been ages already-”

You get cut off by Hermione gasping at the sound of the front door opening along with voices. She grips your arm tightly. “They’re back!”

Barely registering the pain of her nails digging into the skin of your arm, you waste no time in running into the hall with the others to greet everyone at the door. You can’t help the relieved smile on your face when you do a quick head count and find everyone present.

As you get closer, you see how exhausted they look. Not to mention the fact they’re dripping water all over the rug. Harry stands at the front of the group looking like he might collapse if he stands any longer and Hermione and Ron pick up on this as they rush over to help him inside.

As they stumble him across the hall, you stop craning your neck as Theo comes into view. The relief you previously felt leaves you faster than your body knows how to deal with and you have to force yourself to breathe when you take in the state of him.

At first glance he doesn’t look particularly worse than the rest. They all have a vaguely haunted look in their eyes along with a sickly pallor like they haven’t seen the sun in days.

But the way Mattheo and Lorenzo are holding him up brings attention to the fact that all of his weight is being put on one leg. The other, to your horror, has a deep, bloody gash trailing down his thigh and onto his calf. The sight of blood steadily dripping onto the floor below has you frozen, almost mesmerised in a terrible way, and it’s not until Dumbledore speaks that you snap out of it and to attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, if you could please fetch Madam Pomfrey for me,” Dumbledore asks, his voice a lot calmer than you feel. You nod, turning away quickly before Theo can see the panic which is probably clear as day on your face.

It takes a scary second to find Madam Pomfrey, but as soon as you do, she gets down to business preparing her supplies in the living room which is as far as Theo seems to be able to make it.

He lays on the sofa, breathing shallowly as Madam Pomfrey crouches down beside him to begin assessing the wound. Peering at it closely, she looks up at Dumbledore sharply. “Inferi?”

“I’m afraid so,” he replies solemnly and you let out a choked sort of whimper.

“Merlin,” Ron whispers, looking like he might be sick. Whether that’s because Madam Pomfrey is cleaning Theo’s leg, or because of the mention of Inferi, you aren’t sure. “What the hell were you guys doing?”

“All will be explained, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore reassures him, looking over his spectacles. “However, I must insist that for now we allow dear Madam Pomfrey to tend to Mr Nott’s injuries.”

“Will you be able to heal him?” Mattheo asks, swallowing hard. The concern in his voice for his best friend has your heart clenching and you look to Madam Pomfrey just as earnestly for an answer.

“Yes, I dare say I can,” Madam Pomfrey says grimly, but she pulls out a couple little bottle of potions from her bag with a frown. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be extremely painful, unfortunately.”

“Can’t imagine what pain feels like,” Theo mumbles, shifting his position on the sofa slightly and wincing. His face goes whiter than before and he shuts his eyes tightly from the pain, but he still manages to talk, however hard it may be. “Not like I’ve just had Inferi mistaking my leg for their lunch.”

“No talking and no moving,” Madam Pomfrey instructs Theo, sending him a stern glare.

“Sorry-”

“Shhh!” you hiss, giving him a glare of your own. Theo’s eyes flutter open slightly and his lips quirk up when he sees you leaning over him as close as you can get without Madam Pomfrey shooing you away.

His smile quickly drops when Madam Pomfrey pours some purple liquid into the open wound, causing it to hiss and smoke. The groan that leaves Theo has you holding your breath and you fight the urge to shut your eyes and turn away.

“Merlin, I can’t watch,” Lorenzo gags, his skin turning even sicklier than before. Turning away, he holds onto Mattheo’s shoulder to steady himself, the latter looking more interested than anything as he peers at Theo’s sizzling cut. Lorenzo shakes his head and holds a hand over his mouth every time he can hear Madam Pomfrey pouring more of the potion. “Oh, God, that’s disgusting.”

“Mr Berkshire, if you are unable to watch, then don’t,” Madam Pomfrey snaps, screwing the bottle shut and grabbing another one. She waves her hand in an impatient shooing motion. “In fact, everyone out. Now! This isn’t a Quidditch match, for heaven’s sake!”

Dumbledore starts filing everyone out and you consider staying for a minute but Madam Pomfrey’s raised eyebrows have you hurtling out of the room with everyone else. Theo starts to say something, but a drop of something else makes him grit his teeth and the green smoke produced by the potion follows you out the door.

The next hour or so is filled with Harry, Mattheo and Lorenzo being fussed over by Mrs Weasley, who insists on them going up to bed once they’ve cleaned up and changed into dry clothing. Unfortunately for the rest of you, this means you won’t be getting an update any time soon. Dumbledore is, as always these days, nowhere to be seen.

“I wonder if they found the Horcrux,” you say under your breath to Hermione as she anxiously taps her foot against the kitchen floor.

“They did,” she says grimly, glancing impatiently at the clock. She has her thinking face on, brows furrowed and gaze distant. “It was in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Harry quickly told me before Mrs Weasley sent them off. I wonder when they’ll wake up though… They didn’t look too happy, and I have a feeling it wasn’t all to do with Nott.”

You nod slowly, a weight lifting off your chest despite the last part. If, after all this, they hadn’t retrieved the Horcrux, you think you’d probably have gone to the bloody cave yourself.

“Theodore’s resting now, anyway,” Hermione adds, giving you a quick glance as though she’s waiting for a reaction. You keep your face as impassive as you can, attempting a casual nod. “Madam Pomfrey says he’s healing nicely and his leg will be fine. It’ll just be a bit sore for a few days. I’m sure he’s awake if you want to go see him.”

“I might,” you mumble, shrugging. You try to sound flippant, but the urge to clamber out of your seat probably shows because Hermione rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh, why don’t you just put him out of his misery?” she asks, her words coming out at the speed of light, like she’s been wanting to say it for a while. You blink at her in shock. Sighing, she leans over the table and her tone becomes gentle. “I know he lied to you, and you should be angry with him for that! But… well, it’s been a really awkward few days with him asking us where you are every second of the day. And, technically, he was never really a Death Eater, he was helping our side!”

Hermione takes a deep breath and exhales, slumping back in her seat as she waits for your reaction. You try not to laugh. “How long have you been holding that one in?”

“Since the second he turned up here,” she says, sagely. “Now, don’t change the subject! Go and see him. Go on, off you go!”

You stand up, swiftly dodging Hermione’s flapping hands to try and rush you out the door. “Okay, I’m going. It’s probably about time anyway,” you grumble, a fond smile creeping up on you nonetheless.

Looking satisfied, Hermione stops trying to usher you out and you make your way over to the living room again. The door is open and you sigh with relief when you notice the room is empty, bar Theo who’s in the same position as he was the last time you saw him. His eyes are shut and you wonder if he’s sleeping until you step on a creaky floorboard and he cracks one eye open.

“Hey,” you say quietly, tip-toeing into the room to perch on the coffee table adjacent to the sofa. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Theo replies, moving to sit up as much as he can. You suspect he’d have the same answer even if he was asleep. He looks a lot more awake than he did before and you feel your chest squeeze tightly when you realise how glad you are. Theo seems to notice this and he reaches over to hold one of your hands, detaching it from the way you grasp them both together. “I promised you I’d come back alive, didn’t I?”

You snort, shaking your head at his ability to be so chipper. “Alive and dripping blood all over the carpet. You know if Kreacher finds out it was you, he’ll murder you in your sleep, right?”

“It doesn’t count if I die now,” Theo protests, frowning as if you’re talking about a serious possibility and not joking. “Deal was you’d forgive me if I came back alive after finding the Horcrux, remember?”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think deeply about it as he rubs circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. It causes you to momentarily lose your focus. “What I remember saying is that I would think about it.”

Theo shakes his head, a look of mock concern overtaking his features. “I think the stress of my injury has gotten to your memory… What I remember is you vowing to forgive me the moment I stepped foot in this place.”

“I think Madam Pomfrey’s painkillers are getting to you,” you say drily, moving to kneel on the floor next to him.

“She didn’t use any,” Theo grumbles, looking mournfully at the bandages on his leg. “She’s really sadistic, I’m telling you.”

You laugh, ducking your head so you aren’t flustered by the way Theo’s eyes focus on your smile with a grin of his own.

“You know what she told me would help with the pain?” Theo asks quietly, his enviously long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones as he looks down at you, almost nervously.

“Let me guess,” you say, sitting up so the distance between your faces is much shorter now. “A kiss to make it all better?”

“Healer’s orders,” he says, shrugging. His breathing quickens when you don’t move away and he swallows hard, eyes dropping lower to your mouth when you bite your lip to stop from cracking a smile. “I’m not saying you have to, but if you’re okay with going directly against her orders, then-”

You cut him off by pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and he inhales sharply, unmoving for a split second before parting his lips and deepening the kiss. Theo’s hands move to your waist where he uses his remaining strength to hoist you up onto the sofa next him, one of your legs thrown over his waist as you half-straddle him.

You gasp into his mouth when he nips at your bottom lip and the sound he makes in the back of his throat has your cheeks warming up and you kiss him harder. The fact it’s been so long since you’ve even been near him has you both kissing for what feels like hours and you only pull away when you need to breathe and you’re worried you’re leaning on Theo’s leg.

Pulling away, you scan Theo’s face and pause for a second to take in his beautiful features. His eyes are blown wide like he can’t believe he’s here with you, kissing you. A warm feeling starting in your stomach spreads all the way down to the tips of your fingers as he looks at you.

“Any other very important requests from the Healer?” you ask breathlessly, feeling a shiver run down your spine where Theo lightly skims his fingers. A dangerous smile overtakes his face and his lips, pink and swollen from kissing you, curve up, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“I think she mentioned something about a sponge bath?”

You whack his arm and he yelps, grabbing your wrist to stop you assaulting him further. “Hey, I’m an injured patient!”

“Your leg is injured, not your arm.”

“It is now,” he says, pouting as he rubs dramatically at his bicep where you lightly thumped him. He grumbles when you roll your eyes and press another kiss to his lips to get him to stop pouting. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Hm,” you hum, settling your face in his chest and sighing at the warmth of his arms, feeling him smile against your forehead where he kisses you.

© angelfic 2023.

[morose-melodies]

perfect failure | yandere! dottore x experiment! reader

summary: you were a failed experiment... so why didn't dottore just kill you and move on?

content warning: mentions of blood.

part 1 part 2

you were a failure.

you were a failed experiment of dottore's - you were too quiet, too weak. what use did he have for something like you?

dottore had yet to 'recycle' you and start on his new experiment. as much as he spoke about ending you, he hadn't done it yet.

he wouldn't let you stray very far away from him, not that you ever tried to. it was like you were a statue that only moved when asked to.

sometimes, you'd even forget to breathe without dottore reminding you to do so.

being alive was dull - everything was blurry and all the colors were dull. you had heard people in passing talking about 'beautiful snow', what was that?

you wanted to see the beautiful snow.

but you had yet to even leave dottore's manor. this was your home and soon enough, your resting place.

he had attempted to kill you last night but hesitated - he sat the knife down and shook his head. he realized he was acting irrationally.

"(y/n), look at the page in my hand. can you not read the first row of letters?" dottore snapped a finger, tugging your attention away from a vial you had zoned in on, "read it out for me."

dottore was persistent about finding out all of your flaws; thus far, you had bad eyesight, you couldn't properly walk and you couldn't withstand the cold for very long.

you were deeply flawed.

"(y/n)," that was the name he had given you, though, it hadn't clicked for you - he would call your name multiple times and you wouldn't reply, because you didn't understand, "(y/n)," the sound of a snapping finger always caught your attention though, "read the first letter then. would that be simpler for you? read anything you can see on the paper, just do it."

you stared at the paper, quiet. your hands were cold and tucked in your lap, you were wearing a thin hospital sort of gown - you were very cold. your lips parted and dottore's eyebrow twitched but, you said nothing.

sighing, dottore sat the paper down and went to his notes, where he would write that your eyesight was a lost cause.

he needed to find the root of the problem so he wouldn't repeat it once more.

he could not have another failure like you.

...

inside of a dark room, dottore had told you to sit down. he walked away from you and towards the door and said, "After I shut this door, come and knock on it."

so, he shut the door and waited.

he heard you tumbling around, or, perhaps you were crawling around. dottore wrote in his notes that you couldn't navigate in the dark.

"doctor," you called out in that weak voice of yours - it seemed you were in a bit of a dilemma. so, he opened the door to see you mere inches away from the door, facing the opposite direction.

dottore blinked, before holding out his hand to help you up. you placed your warm hand into his and he helped you up.

the fact that he had created you brought much shame to him.

...

"doctor?"

dottore had gotten sick of hearing you call for him; perhaps that was one of the only words you were sure of, or maybe you simply liked saying it.

he wasn't sure.

he wasn't sure of much at this point.

why hadn't he gotten rid of you yet? you were a waste of space and good resources. "what is it?" nonetheless, dottore replied to your call, each and every time.

"what is this?" in reference to what you were asking about, you tugged at the cord on your chest, and dottore hissed, "do not tug at it. put your hand to your side, now."

you obeyed.

unlike his experiment before you - one thing you were good at was listening. "it's a heart monitor," he replied after a moment, looking at the patient monitor - your heart rate had elevated moments before after he had told you not to tug at the heart monitor.

could you feel emotions? or was it simply because he had raised his voice?

...

it was a passing thought and probably pointless but dottore had gotten you glasses.

perhaps it was a waste of time and money, but he was now intrigued by the potential of you feeling human emotions.

"(y/n), can you see the letters now?" holding up the sheet of paper once more, dottore looked at you, awaiting a reply.

dottore snapped his finger when you didn't look.

"yes," you replied, swallowing as you looked at the letters on the sheet of paper - you knew they were letters because dottore said so but you could not read them.

"alright - good job," dottore nodded, setting the paper down and casting a glance at the patient monitor once more.

nothing- it seemed positive words did little for you.

perhaps acts of affection would gain more of a reaction than him raising his voice at you.

...

dottore was sitting by your side at the dinner table - could you taste food, he was unsure. "go ahead, (y/n), eat it."

it was a slice of cake.

though he assumed you would like it, you did not pick up the fork and you did not attempt to eat it.

dottore couldn't get angry, so, he sighed slowly, calming himself. he took a piece of the cake with the fork and held it in front of your mouth, "will this make it easier for you, (y/n). open your mouth," he asked and fed you the cake.

you chewed the cake and then dottore asked, "how does it taste? salty, tangy, is it sweet, (y/n)?"

"i... like it," you replied, watching as he scooped another piece of cake up for you and fed it to you - it was good, very good. you liked it.

dottore watched you - he was observing you, the little smile on your face, the way your eyes squinted as you ate the cake.

and, dottore smiled. you were more human than anything.

you weren't an intelligent being - not by any means. dottore reached out to wipe smeared icing off of your cheek.

and your heart rate elevated.

...

you were sat on the exam table, your kegs hanging over the edge, kicking back and forth slowly.

dottore glanced at the patient monitor before looking at you. he couldn't explain this lack of disgust he felt when looking at you - you were no use to him, you weren't the intelligent being he strived to create.

dottore feelings were conflicted.

turning away from you, he grabbed a scalpel and waved it in front of you, "do you see this, (y/n)? I'm going to make a small incision on your thigh. I'd like to see if you can quickly recover from bodily injuries."

he had warned you - he gave you time to think about what he said as he placed his notepad on the table behind him.

he lifted your hospital gown, exposing your upper thigh, and made the incision, he watched as blood beaded at the cut before running down your thigh.

you were bleeding... and the cut wasn't healing itself.

he turned and wrote in his notes - (y/n) is an enigma.

...

you were completely different from the other experiments of his.

dottore placed a coat over your shoulders and slid your arms through the holes, he then slid gloves onto your hands, "there you go."

you had asked dottore to see the 'beautiful snow'. he only assumed you were asking to go outside.

this would be your first time leaving the comfort of dottore's manor. he held your hand as he opened the front door, and walked your outside.

you had dreamt of this - at least you thought you had. in your head, you imagined the beautiful snow and smiled to yourself.

this was your life goal, to see the beautiful snow.

and when you made it outside, it was actively snowing.

you tugged at his hand, trying to free yourself but he wouldn't let you go, not so easily - he couldn't have you running off and getting mauled by a hilichurl, that was a joke dottore had made. he walked you outside and let you kneel and touch the snow.

but... you looked disappointed.

this wasn't exciting at all. you thought snow would be different. this was a letdown.

you formed a ball of snow in your hands, and looked down at it before bringing it to your mouth and taking a bite of it.

also, very disappointing.

"doctor, i want to go back in."

so, dottore took you back inside and sat you in front of the fireplace. he removed your gloves and coat and sat a blanket over your shoulders.

he sat behind you, on the couch and watched you.

he was growing fond of you. having you near was akin to having a human companion near. dottore wasn't so disappointed in you anymore, he felt different.

dottore did not hate you, it was different now.

...

you had gotten sick from eating the snow.

dottore was having a field day with you - you were sickly and pale. he ran tests and whatnot, taking blood and giving you medication.

he couldn't let you die now, he had come so far with you.

dottore placed a warm towel on your forehead, and said, "I brought you soup. would you sit up so I could feed you?"

but, you didn't sit up. dottore reasoned that you were too tired to do so.

so, he left and came back later.

you had perked up since earlier and dottore had reheated the soup for you. he spoon fed it to you and you ate it, almost desperately.

some of the soup dripped down your chin. dottore sat the bowl down, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped it from your chin, "there you go."

he picked up the bowl once more and continued to feed you.

he wouldn't be able to imagine himself in such a situation a few months back, before you.

it seemed you had changed something in him - was he kinder now? more patient, perhaps? you had changed.

after you had finished, dottore had you lay back down in the bed and placed a cover over you.

but, you never went to sleep.

...

you watched dottore mix colorful liquids a lot.

you didn't understand why, or what the point was. but, you were content with watching his back.

you shifted in the seat you sat on, holding your hands together.

as dottore was mixing two liquids, he made an abrupt movement upon hearing you shift and the liquid splashed onto his mask.

the liquid dripped from his mask and onto his shirt- it wouldn't kill him, at least. dottore grumbled something about not startling him before removing his mask.

this was the first time you had seen his face - the first time you'd seen your creator's face and your heart rate elevated beyond what it had before.

and you stared with wide eyes at him; at his red eyes, and felt amazed - you loved your creator far more than you could verbalize.

and to see his face solidified that love you felt.

dottore took note of this and wrote down in his note - (y/n) feels love towards their creator. what makes (y/n) not a human?

he would need to figure that out next.

...

you could feel emotions, happiness, and sadness, and even love. that's what dottore found out in the past week.

physically, you were very weak and could not even carry a ten-pound weight without struggling.

your eyesight was getting better, oddly enough.

you did not need sleep. he had made you lay in bed with your eyes closed for more than thirty minutes and you never fell asleep.

he had attempted it six times now.

but, you did fall asleep in his bed today.

it was odd.

dottore stood at your side, watching as you slept in his bed, watching as you slept exactly where he did.

you were sleeping.

though, he had proven that you could not. he seemed to learn something new about you each and every day.

why did you take his heart by surprise, (y/n)?

dottore sat down by your side and watched you as you slept. he did this for two hours.

when you woke up, dottore stood and helped you out of bed. you were completely unpredictable, you were different- perhaps the most intriguing experiment of his thus far.

and he was grateful that he hadn't killed you.

so, for that, dottore hugged you.

he held you in his arms for an extended amount of time, nearly smothering you in his chest. "you are absolutely perfect, (y/n). remain the same for me, will you?"

and he was so very grateful that he did not kill you that day.

[multifandomgirl08]

Time to Move? [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fiancée!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: When Max had brought up moving, it was because the lease on his apartment was going to be up at the end of the year. Maybe it was time to find a new place for all of you.

Warning(s): Implied Sexual Content in the first half

Words: 2.6k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Nico was already in bed for the night after refusing to go to sleep without Max reading him a story. He had protested until you offered to read Nico two stories if he let Papa finish his race. Nico perked up and then dragged his feet to bed. He made it through the first story, and by the time you were getting through the second one, he was falling asleep.

You joined Max in the living room after Nico had fallen asleep, where he was sitting on his racing sim talking to someone before he logged off for the night. Max and the guys from Team Redline had been streaming tonight.

“Yeah, I’ll be back on tomorrow.” He said before clicking something on the steering wheel.

“Sure, bye guys.” Max turned the sim off before pulling off his headphones and stepped out of his seat.

Your laptop was open looking at houses. You and Max had been talking about moving from his apartment to a house. You had been looking at houses online for the last few days and you couldn’t find anything in Monaco that looked like it was a good house for Nico to grow up in. You wanted things like a few bedrooms for you and Max to have your own spaces in the house, a pool, and a yard for Nico.

“How’s looking at houses?” He asked taking the empty can of Red Bull before throwing it in the recycling bin in the kitchen.

“It’s like there is nothing for sale. Maybe we should hire someone to find something for us.” You shut your laptop and put it on the coffee table.

“We don’t have to stay in Monaco, we can move further out.”

“We could, maybe moving out a little further would help.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something, there’s no rush.”

He was right there wasn’t, there was just so much going on for all of you right now. You were sitting down with the wedding planner while working, and you had recently just started to figure out how Nico’s karting schedule would end up working with Max’s schedule for the rest of the season. You didn’t even want to think about what was going on at work right now.

“I know.”

When Max had brought up moving, it was because the lease on his apartment was going to be up at the end of the year, so you suggested looking at buying a house instead of renting. You would be able to have your own office, instead of just having your desk set up in the living room, Max could have his racing sim in one of the guest rooms, and Nico would have more room for his toys since he was slowly growing out of his bedroom. Max’s two-bedroom apartment made sense when you had moved in but now there wasn’t as much room for the three of you to grow into. It just made sense for you to find somewhere with more space.

Max had pulled you from the couch guiding you towards the master bedroom to take your mind off of the events of the day. Max leaned down, your lips meeting, feeling his eyelashes flutter closed against your cheekbones.

Your hands went to his back, letting your fingernails slightly dig into the fabric of his shirt. You slid your hands under the hem feeling his warm soft skin under your fingers. He pulled back only to start to pull at the tight fabric of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor hitting your bare feet.

It had taken another month looking at houses before you and Max even bothered talking to a real estate agent. Eventually, on a Sunday, both you and Max woke up early, dropping Nico off at Daniel’s for the day before going to meet the realtor. The Aussie had taken Nico from your arms, almost shooing both you and Max out of his apartment, wanting to spend every moment that he could with his godson.

“Uncle Daniel has it all handled,” He said, taking the bag out of Max’s hands. Nico was already situated on the couch asking Daniel if he had any fun games that they could play.

After that you and Max walked down to the garage to get into his car. He pulled open your door for you before you slid into the seat.

Max had gotten in and then started the car, you were making a small list of all of the things the house would need, “Pool, gym, 4 or 5 bedrooms.”

“And a big garage, I’m going to need a workspace to keep working on Nico’s kart.” Max’s focus was on the road but it seemed like the list for what you wanted was never ending.

You were meeting the realtor just outside of Monaco in a gated community. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about privacy. Max had pulled the car up to the house, and it could only be described as a big, modern, white box.

“I bet the moment we step into the house, we’ll be able to smell that the paint isn’t all the way dry.” You gave a small nod agreeing with Max. The house was new, too new for your liking.

You met the agent inside, he spoke with a thick French accent and told you the basic information of the house. It was on almost a full acre of land, had a pool, 4 bedrooms, a kitchen, a 2-car garage, and it was under 14 million euros. However, as you looked around the house there was no grass for Nico to run around on, and the closets in the house were small with the master bedroom sharing a single small closet.

This wasn’t the house for you and Max.

The next house you and Max drove to wasn’t on the market yet, it would be going up in about a week, and it didn’t even have an estimated price from the seller. It was close to Monaco, but a little higher up in the hills. You were concerned that since it was just outside of the city, it may not be considered as a part of Monaco, but rather in the next part over.

As Max pulled up to the gate, the guard had let you through. It looked like a cream one-story house, and you could see that there was a small water feature that led to the front door. The agent had walked in front of you with the key that had been in the lockbox before opening the door leading to a long entryway. It looked like going left would lead to the living room, and going right would lead to the dining room and the kitchen. But your eyes went front and center, looking out on the big backyard and pool, you felt like asking if all of the outdoor furniture came with the house.

You could feel Max’s hand on your hip, leading you down the hall to the kitchen. You could tell from the kitchen that it was a little dated but not too bad. It had a free-standing coffee maker instead of one that was built in, and an induction top stove, instead of a gas top like at the apartment. If you and Max got the house it was something that would need to be re-done before you moved in.

You and Max walked around the house for a while longer, the house turned out to be two stories, not one. It had two bedrooms upstairs both with en-suite bathrooms. When you had taken the stairs from the kitchen, it led down a long hallway that was photoless aside from the doorways that led to other rooms.

Max had stopped in front of a set of double doors, before pushing one open to reveal what could only be the master bedroom. There were doors that seemed to lead outside, the bed was up against the wall on the opposite side of the room, and it seemed like two doorways were hugging each side behind the bed. You and Max walked through one each, you ended up in a closet with white built-in shelves and a center island before seeing what was another doorway. You walked through it, and ended up meeting Max in the middle of the bathroom, which was settled between the two large closets; his and hers.

You gave the bathroom a quick look over, a big walk in shower with a bench, freestanding tub, makeup counter, and two sinks. From there you walked the rest of the second floor, there were another three bedrooms, a gym, and a wine cellar tucked away in the corner. The house had more than enough room for you, Max, Nico, and the cats.

From there you made your way back upstairs, finally walking outside to see the pool. The upstairs terrace had stairs leading down to the pool.

Max took your hand and led you down the stairs before you both stopped in front of the pool to see the birdseye view of Monaco and the Mediterranean sea from the backyard, even this far up in the mountains the sea still gave off a bright blue shine almost as if it was mirroring the sky.

You could hear Max’s shoes against the grass as he moved to lie down in one of the lounge chairs, his head already laid back closing his eyes. You pulled your heels off, moving to sit next to him on the lounge before he pulled you flush against his chest to lay down next to him.

“You like it?” He muttered into your hair.

“Yes.” You answered simply.

“I’ll ask him when it’s going to be put on the market.” Max didn’t even move from his spot, he just wrapped his arm around your waist, forcing your legs apart so that you were straddling one of his thighs.

“We don’t even know how much it is,” You started. “And the kitchen needs to be re-done.”

Max ran his hands over your arms, silently telling you to calm down, “We’ll figure it out. Besides, the last house is all the way on the other side of Monaco.”

You laid your head against Max’s chest, nuzzling your nose into his white t-shirt.

“Now you're just being lazy.” Max let out a loud laugh at your words.

“You wore me out with your late night activities.” His hand moved down to grip the inside of your thigh.

“You weren’t complaining then.” You gave him a small pout. Max gave you a crooked smile and then reached for your hand, kissing the band of your engagement ring.

You and Max laid there for a few more moments before making your way back up the stairs and into the living room to see the agent on the phone.

He looked up at the sound of your heels clicking on the white stone outside of the pocket doors.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

“It’s nice,” Max started.

“That’s good. A little more what you were expecting… And it’s still within the Monaco postal code, so you don’t have to worry about not being considered a resident while you’re living here, even though you're technically in Saint-Jean Cap Ferret.” As the agent talked, you knew that it meant that the price would go down a bit since you weren’t actually in Monaco still.

“What’s the price?” The agent widened his eyes. He wasn’t expecting Max to just outright ask about the price.

“Well… Umm… I think the owner was looking at 17.5 million euros.”

“17.5,” You stated, the agent nodded. “What about 16.5? Given that I want to re-due the kitchen, and I would want to negotiate for the furniture to come with the house.”

“The kitchen is brand new,” The agent stated, but you knew he was lying. “And all of the furniture is from a staging company.”

“No, the kitchen isn’t, it has a free standing coffee maker, and the fronts of the cabinets need to be replaced. I’m sure the seller can pay out the staging company. Let’s also talk about the fact that it also isn’t on the market yet. I bet that the seller will want to list it at 17.5 and it’ll sit because the price is too high.”

You didn’t work in real estate but after all of your years in banking, private asset management was something you were knowledgeable in. Homes like this one were important assets in a portfolio. Since the house wasn’t new construction, and the seller wasn’t the original builder, they couldn’t price it at 17.5 million given the other homes in the area.

“He won’t go for that.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” You weren’t really suggesting it. But the agent was making it hard for you, you had clients at work who were more decisive in their choices then this guy.

It took a few seconds, but it was almost like the agent had scurried off to the other side of the house with his hand tightly gripping his phone.

“So this is what I’m missing while you’re working all day.” Max said softly, as he laid one of his hands on your hip.

“Max,” You said. He had pulled you into his chest and quickly dropped a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“I’m sitting in on one of your meetings next time.” You couldn’t tell if Max was joking or not. You knew that he was only trying to make you relax a bit.

“And what are you going to do while I’m busy?”

“I’ll find something to entertain myself with.” You saw Max’s eyes drop to your neck, before they quicked moved up again to meet your eyes.

“Want to play my assistant for the day?” You asked him. You could see the excitement fill Max’s eyes, and knew that if Max was going to watch you “work” you weren’t going to get anything done that day. He gave you a wordless nod before you heard footsteps again.

“16.5 million, all cash, outdoor furniture included.” The Agent was quick to say with his phone pressed into his white shirt.

Max just looked at you, and you read it as he was letting you take care of this. You gave the agent a half nod, “With a 14 day inspection contingency.”

The agent just stared at you, and you could hear sound coming from his phone. He gave you a curt nod, and placed his phone back up to his ear reiterating your additional stipulation.

It took a few moments before the agent got off the phone. “The seller is willing to take the additional stipulation.”

“Great.” You said.

“I’ll start the paperwork and we should have everything ready in the next few days.” The agent placed his hand out towards you. You shook his hand, and then he shook Max’s. “Congratulations on your new home.”

The agent left both of you in the house, instructing you to place the key back in the lock box. Technically you weren’t allowed to have the keys until the paperwork went through and everything was signed and notarized.

“Welcome home.” Max said with his hand on your hip.

“Tell me that again when we get the keys and the kitchen is re-done.”

Max laughed, “I’ll make sure, mijn leeuwin.”

You leaned into Max and up to kiss him. It would take a little bit but you couldn’t wait to make this house into yours and Max’s home.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca

[moonstruckme]

Hey! I know you wanted more requests for people besides the marauders so you can do this for anyone you like but maybe reader who is just soooo in love with them that anytime they do something nice for her she starts crying? Like happy tears because she's just so in love and she doesn't know how to express that. If you don't want to that's fine!

Hi, thank you! I decided to go with Sirius anyway because I felt like he'd be the most fun. (This is gonna be me btw, the first time I experience romantic love there's no way I'm gonna be able to handle it)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to show off my tattoos on the first day?”

“Mm, maybe,” you muse, looking longingly at the way Sirius’ inked-up forearms pair with his black dress shirt. “I feel like after the interview it won’t matter, but today you probably want to present your straightest-laced self.” 

“Gross,” he grunts, but starts rolling down his sleeves. 

It’s a rare sight, Sirius up before noon, but his job interview is scheduled for ten and he doesn’t feel in a position to negotiate. The frail morning light bounces off the full length mirror he’s standing in front of and illuminates the room as he purses his lips and starts unbuttoning his shirt. You’re lying on the bed watching him get ready, trying your very best not to look enthralled and wanton (it is a constant effort). 

“My most gorgeous, radiant angel, could I ask you for a favor?” 

You grin, warmth flooding your chest. “You don’t have to butter me up. What is it?” 

“Grab the bigger version of this shirt? I think I may want a baggier tuck.” 

You hum and get up, padding into the closet. Sirius’ clothes are all strewn over the floor and dresser, but miraculously the shirt you’re looking for is on a hanger. As you reach for it, you nearly trip over a small box on the floor. It looks like the shell of something Sirius was sent in the mail, plain cardboard with the shipping label torn off. You bring it back out with you. 

“Thanks, lovely,” Sirius says as he takes the hanger from you. 

“No problem,” you reply. “Want me to recycle this for you?” 

He turns to look, blinks, then looks harder. “No. Where’d you find that?” 

“On the floor.” 

“Must have fallen off its shelf.” He discards the smaller shirt on the bed and starts doing up the buttons of this new one, smirking when your eyes track the deft movements of his fingers. “Don’t throw it out, it’s got important stuff in it.” 

You weigh the box in your hand. “It feels empty.” 

“It’s got important, lightweight stuff in it.” 

You eye the barely-open flap of the box, intrigued. “Can I look inside?” 

You think you catch a flicker of hesitation across Sirius’ features, but it’s quickly schooled into insouciance. A vine of nervousness winds around your gut. “Sure,” he says, “go ahead.” 

You look at him a bit longer before slowly peeling back the cardboard flap. Inside is a mishmash of things. Paper, mostly, but you recognize one item immediately. It’s a flimsy, neon orange paper wristband, a venue’s name stamped haphazardly onto one side. At the first concert you’d gone to together, Sirius had griped endlessly about how the orange contrasted with his outfit horribly and brought out all the ugliest hues of his skin (there aren’t any, but you were too timid to tell him that at the time). He’d seemed desperate to be rid of it. But here it is, carefully clipped off instead of torn and preserved like something special. Something warm and weighty blooms in your chest. 

You take out one of the pieces of paper, unfolding it. It’s your handwriting, thoughtless scribbling you’d left for him to find on the fridge one day after you’d left for work. Have a great day, love you. 

Another is a bar napkin, containing a whole back-and-forth exchange between you and Sirius from the first time you’d met his friends. You’d kept passing it to him under the table, asking Do they like me? Are they just being nice? Is Remus always so frowny? and he’d passed it back saying Yes. Yes, they love you. James is this nice to everyone, but I can tell he likes you. Remus is being a sourpuss because he hasn’t eaten yet. You’re perfect. 

By the time you come upon a polaroid you’d forgotten he’d taken of you in his kitchen, you’re pressing your lips together to keep them from wobbling and your entire being feels warmed by incandescent, aching fondness. Your heart feels so big you can’t breathe around it. You’re not sure you have room for this much love, but you’ll happily carry it around like a weight in your chest for the rest of your life. 

You’re all too aware that Sirius is watching you now, so you try to keep it together for his sake, but when you blink a tear slides down the side of your nose. 

“Hey,” he chides lightly, amusement inlaid with a bit of panic. “Don’t.” 

You sniffle, then laugh wetly. “Can I hug you?” 

Normally he might make a joke (Not if you’re going to get snot all over my interview shirt) but something in your expression must sway him, because Sirius’ eyes go soft. “Yeah, baby. Of course.” 

He doesn’t make you get up, crossing the distance to the bed and wrapping you up in his arms. You let out a little sob at the contact. 

“I’m gonna clean off your shirt once we’re done,” you promise, gripping his shoulders. 

“Okay.” He sounds amused. 

“I just—I didn’t know you kept this stuff.” 

“It’s cheesy.” 

“It’s not,” you insist, hugging him tighter. It makes you happy beyond words, to know you’re bringing this out in him. To see, with your own eyes, how much he loves you back. You can check in with yourself at any time and know you’re happy in your relationship with Sirius, but you never could have imagined how spectacular it would feel to know that you make him this happy in return. “It’s special, Sirius. You’re special.” 

“James’ mum used to tell me the same thing.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You smack his arm, pulling back with a huff. You’re smiling, though, and he sees, taking your wet, blotchy face between his palms and grinning at you. Honestly, if he weren’t Sirius Black, he’d be such a dork. 

“I love you,” he says, a significance in his tone that contradicts the playfulness in his expression. “Do I let you forget it?” 

“No,” you tell him. “You don’t, it’s just…I just really love you too, you know?” 

His smile spreads, flashing canines the second before he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s firm and spirited, and Sirius holds you there until you’re laughing into his mouth. 

“I know,” he says, pecking you once more on the lips before letting you go with a swipe of his thumbs across your cheeks. “Alright, gorgeous, clean me up, would you? I’ve got other people to go impress.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Taste of Temptation || DR3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader Summary: Tensions arise when there is chemistry with a man far older than you but will age be enough to deny what is definitely there? Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, age gap (13 years) reader is 20, dirty talk, pet names, assplay WC: 5.6k F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five Snapshots One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Pre-Season Testing - Bahrain  You prayed the white polo shirt went unnoticed by everyone as you wandered aimlessly around the paddock on your first day. The ‘induction’ into your role was nothing more than a three minute video about paddock etiquette and you still weren’t quite sure what it was you were meant to be doing. You were also too embarrassed to admit you had no clue what you were doing so you didn’t dare ask for help either.

Daniel watched you from the outdoor seating in Red Bull’s hospitality and he smirked to himself as you turned around twice before deciding on a direction that put you right into his path. The moment he saw you meandering around like a lost kitten he had felt a protective instinct snap into place and when you passed by his table he couldn’t help but steal your attention. 

You frowned as a sharp whistle sounded beside you and you turned around until you spotted a man grinning back at you. It was impossible not to recognise him with his signature cheeky grin inviting you closer and you pointed to yourself as you looked around to see if he was smiling at someone else. 

“Yeah, you,” he laughed, rising from his seat and grabbing the opened can of Red Bull from the table. “Where are you heading?”

“Um, I don’t know,” you said as you nervously played with your lanyard.

“I can help you find your way. Do you have a name, kitten?”

“Kitten?”

“Hmm, that was a good guess.”

“What? No, my name’s not kitten. And I’m not exactly lost. I just don’t know where I’m meant to be.” Your shoulders slumped as you pulled out the piece of paper in your pocket and tried once again to make sense of it but it was plucked from your fingers. 

“Pretty sure that’s the definition of lost. Okay so, 10am in the pit, looks like you’re with me, kitten,” he said as he balled up the paper and lobbed it into the recycling bin. 

“But I needed th-”

“Nonsense, you’ve got yourself the best travel guide now. I’ll protect you from the dangerous animals that roam wild in this place.”

You couldn’t remember hearing about any dangerous animals when you arrived in the humid country but the thought brought a rising panic that had you take a step closer to the Red Bull driver. He grinned as he threw an arm over your shoulder and tucked you into his side.

“There’s one right there,” he whispered in your ear as he pointed to Carlos who was leaving the Ferrari motorhome. “Careful, he definitely bites. And if left hungry, then no one is safe.”

A laugh bubbled up before you covered your mouth to silence the sound but it had already drawn the other driver’s attention, or maybe it was Daniel’s much louder laugh that he barked. The Spanish driver sauntered over and shook hands with his competitor before eyeing you up with a grin.

“Who's your friend?” 

“This is-”

“Not kitten,” you interrupted as you held your hand out. “It’s Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Carlos,” he said as he shook your hand before cocking an eyebrow at Daniel curiously. “Kitten?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Daniel said as his hand slipped down and you relaxed under the comforting pressure of his palm on your lower back. “Only I can call her that. I’m just going to give her the grand tour, I’ll catch you later, mate.”

You smiled at Carlos and gave him a small wave before you were once more making your way through the paddock. It was impossible not to laugh as Daniel joked and teased anyone and everything along the way. He had a charisma that few did and you completely forgot about work or even where he was taking you until he came to a stop.

“You have arrived at your destination,” he said with a dramatic bow as he pointed to the stage where some interviews were happening. 

“Thanks, though I still have no idea what I’m meant to be doing here,” you said as you worried on your bottom lip nervously.

His eyes seemed to darken as he watched your bottom lip be pulled between your teeth and your stomach flipped at the unexpected tension that rose. 

“I can keep you company,” he offered. “Wouldn’t want my little kitten getting lost again.”

The pet name seemed to be sticking around, and the more he said it the more you wanted to hear it. “Don’t you have your own job to do?”

He didn’t seem too happy at the reminder and seemed to nod, shrug and shake his head all at once. “Maybe…how about getting a drink after? I want to see you relaxed, and in something a little more…you,” he said as his fingers traced the hem of your FIA issued polo shirt.

“I can’t,” you replied when your voice finally worked. 

“Why not? You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”

“No.” He visibly relaxed at the answer and smiled brightly once more. “I’m only twenty.”

“Age is just a number, kitten.” 

You already knew his age, but the gap of over a decade didn’t seem that far with his carefree attitude and humorous outlook.

You looked at your feet as heat scorched your cheeks. “I meant it’s illegal for me to drink here. Not…that.”

Daniel frowned and mentally ran through the next few weeks of races, the Bahrain and Saudi Arabian Grand Prix both having the same drinking age of 21 instead of 18. The frown eased as a smirk replaced it and he dipped his head closer to yours to whisper in your ear, “you’re in for a treat.”

“What’s that?” Curiosity getting the better of you.

“You, me, Aus GP. I’ll give you a night to remember.” 

You bit your lip as your imagination ran wild beyond just having a drink but before you could reply your name was called by the woman who had assigned the job to you. You were grateful for it too as you stepped back and took a deep breath to steady yourself. Daniel was dangerous to be around, his allure made you forget what you were meant to be doing and you couldn’t afford to lose this job. 

“I’ll have to take a rain check but thank you for showing me around,” you said with a small wave before rushing over to the lady waiting impatiently.

“You’re late.” She thrust a clipboard into your hands and tapped a finger on the timetable. “These are the interview orders. Find the drivers on the list and make sure they are backstage and ready. Got it?”

You nodded and scanned the table to see who was needed first and found Carlos’ name along with Lando Norris and Logan Sargeant. Thankfully the tour with Daniel had taken you past their motorhomes and you only hoped they were there as you started your search.

Round Two - Saudi Arabia You only just managed to duck in time to dodge the football that flew your way and a string of apologies quickly followed. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t aiming for you, I swear,” Oscar apologised again as he jogged over to collect the ball. 

“Nice reflexes though,” Lando pointed out with a grin. “Wanna play? Piastri could use all the help he can get, as you can see.”

“I’m terrible, trust me, you don’t want me on your team. I’m just good at dodging hazards.” 

“Like Danny?” Lando joked. “He was looking for you.”

You had seen the missed calls from him but had been too busy to return them. “Is he a hazard then?”

You had ended up spending a lot more time with the drivers than you had expected with your job. You would even go so far as to say you were friends with some of them, mostly Oscar, Lando, Yuki and Logan since they were only a year or two older than you. 

“Nah, he’s just protective of you for some reason.” You cocked an eyebrow up and Lando stumbled over his words. “We would all protect you, if you needed it, of course, we wouldn’t just, you know, leave you to fend for yourself. Daniel’s just a little more…Oscar?”

You looked to Oscar for an answer as Lando had but Daniel’s fellow Australian driver shifted uncomfortably and focused on the ball at his feet. “Possessive.”

Lando snapped his finger and nodded. “That’s the word I was looking for. Did he have ‘a talk’ with you last week?” 

Oscar nodded with a grimace and you frowned at the sight of it on your friend's face. “What kind of talk?”

“Nothing, just racing stuff,” he lied, a fake reassuring smile plastered on his face. “Should we start making a move?”

You checked your watch and found there was still plenty of time to get the boys to the media pit but they were already walking ahead when you looked back up. You trusted that they would arrive there without too many distractions to make them late and instead headed to the Red Bull motorhome. 

You tapped the back of your knuckles on the door with Daniel’s name and the hard line of your lips pressed together vanished as his accent welcomed you inside. 

“Kitten, I wasn’t expecting you,” he greeted as he sat shirtless on the couch in the driver room, country music playing from a speaker in the corner. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

His body was a distraction and you had to look away, but there was no avoiding the scent of his cologne that lingered in the air and you had to shake your head to rid yourself of the intrusive thoughts. You crossed your arms as you stiffened your spine, remembering why you were there in the first place. “Did you say something to Oscar?”

“I’ve said lots to him,” he said as he stood up. His broad chest filled your vision and your eyes drifted over the definitions of his muscles before focusing on the tattoos that decorated his skin. “You’ll have to be more specific, kitten.”

“I don’t know, he was just acting weird,” you admitted as your hands dropped to your side. “And Lando mentioned some talk you had.”

“That’s not very specific,” he chuckled as he stepped closer. 

Taking a deep breath, you dared to drag your eyes up his body until you reached those warm brown eyes of his. “Did you talk to them about me?”

He shrugged innocently but the look in his eyes was anything but. “Once or twice.”

“Why? They’re my friends.”

“Good, that’s all they should be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means they will only be your friends,” he said through a cocky smile, “if they know what’s good for them.”

You tipped your head back to glare at him for what he insinuated. “You’re not my father.”

“You’re young, but you’re not that young,” he laughed as he circled you and whispered in your ear. “Oh, the things I would do to you if you were just a little older.”

The air in your lungs froze as your stomach somersaulted and you jolted back when his fingertips trailed up your arms. Goosebumps broke over your skin at the light touch and the breath you had held turned to a soft sigh. “Tell me.”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea, kitten,” he said as the lock on the door clicked into place behind you.

“Why?” You sounded as needy as you suddenly felt. This dance had become a familiar routine over the last three weeks but it had never gone further than a few flirty lines whispered in quiet corridors or text messages late at night.

“Because I want to do bad things to you.”

You turned to face him and it left your lips mere inches apart. All it would take was a subtle shift onto your tiptoes and you would be able to taste the lips that had tempted you since he found you on your first day. It took all your strength to resist being the first to give in to the pull between you but you did allow yourself a small indulgence as you traced the lettering of the tattoo across his collarbone.

“How bad?”

His throat bounced with the deep swallow he took and he caught your hand before it could reach his racing pulse. “Very bad.”

Your thighs clenched together at the gravel in his voice and you forgot why you entered his room as curiosity controlled your thoughts. Emboldened by the heat in his gaze, your free hand followed the contour of his hip to the deep V that disappeared into his jeans and his chest rose with a shaky breath. “Like…?”

“Kitty…” He licked his lips as he folded his hand over yours and pushed it lower. “I would destroy you.” He guided your palm over his jeans and your eyes widened at the size of the hard length you felt contained beneath the denim. A dark chuckle teased your ear as he watched your reaction before continuing. “Sweet, little kitten. I’d stretch every hole and make them mine.”

He curled an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his body before his large hands trailed down to grip your backside, squeezing them roughly. You gasped as his fingers teased over the seam that ran down your ass and your core clenched at the thought of taking him in such a way. 

“No one’s ever fucked you there have they?” he asked knowingly, his voice dropping lower as he turned you around and ground his erection against your ass. “Innocent, little kitten. I would work you up to it, don’t you worry. I bet I could make you cum with my tongue first, then again with my fingers, before you begged me to fuck you. And you’d take me so well, I just know it. You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you, kitten?”

Your head fell back to his shoulder with a moan as your eyes fluttered shut. “Yes…”

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled before he pulled away. “But you’re too young.”

If his words didn’t send a shiver down your spine it was the sound of the door unlocking before it swung open. Daniel leaned so casually against the frame like the last two minutes had never happened but his eyes were tortured as he looked at the glowing green emergency exit sign at the other end of the motorhome. “Run while you can, kitten.”

It was impossible to look at Daniel without hearing his sordid words echoing in your head. All weekend you were tortured with the images he had placed there and your nights were spent tossing and turning in your room as you remained unsatisfied by your fingers. 

He seemed to sense it too when he passed you in the paddock. 

“You look tired,” he commented quietly as you escorted Lando to an interview. He had been quick to divert his own course of travel when he saw you walking beside the British driver and positioned himself between you two. “Trouble sleeping?”

“It’s just the humidity,” you lied but his smirk only grew. 

“Won’t have to worry about that next week. Australia brings a different kind of heat. I can’t wait to show you it.” His arm draped over your shoulder. “Get that drink together. See where the night leads.”

You stumbled and would have fallen if he had tightened his grip, pulling you even closer to him so his lips brushed your cheek. “I thought I was too young,” you shot back quietly after you recovered your footing.

“You can drink at 18 there.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” he laughed as he slipped away with a wink. “I hope your sleep is more satisfying tonight.”

“Is your aircon broken?” Lando asked, a look of concern etched on his frowning face. “You can have my room if you need, I can bunk with Carlos - he probably misses having someone to cuddle.”

“Why would you bunk with Carlos? Not that we need to, since my aircon is working fine,  but we could’ve just shared your bed.” 

Lando scoffed a laugh and jutted a thumb over his shoulder in the direction Daniel had gone in. “Yeah, if I want to wake to a castration, which I don’t.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “At least you still talk to me. I have hardly seen Yuki since he spoke to Danny before the qualifiers. I’m pretty sure they weren’t discussing the weather.”

Lando scratched the tuft of hair on his chin nervously. “That chat was about the TikTok you guys made. I mean, I found it hilarious but playing twister put you two in some pretty close positions.”

“It was just a game.”

“I know that, hell, everyone knows that.” Lando shook his head and looked around before leaning closer. “You know he’s protective of you-”

“Possessive,” you corrected.

“Possessive, whatever,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Just try not to drag too many of us into the line of fire, okay?”

You felt guilty for disturbing the peace, or friendships, and nodded sullenly. “Can you find your own way to the pit? I’m not feeling too well.”

“Want me to walk you to the med bay?” 

You waved off the look of concern. “No, I’ll get another strike on my name if you’re late to your interview. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

He reluctantly left and you made your way to the admin building so you could beg for a different position, one that didn’t involve interacting with the drivers. The last thing they needed in their busy lives was more drama.

When you swapped out roles with a colleague you thought things would quieten down but your phone was pinging nonstop with the drivers asking why they had some random guy walking them to their appointments. You resorted to silencing the device until after the race was over.

Incident investigation, collision between DR3 and YT22 - noted

The notification came across your laptop followed by an email with the request for the first of the drivers to appear before the stewards. With a sigh, you closed the laptop and went in search of Daniel so you could escort him to where he needed to go since his race had ended early with a crash on the 50th lap.

It was like déjà vu standing in front of his door, tapping your knuckles quietly, but this time his welcome was colder and when you stepped inside there was no smile to greet you.

“Where were you?” he asked as he tossed his phone on the table, your name on the screen with all of his messages that you hadn’t replied to.

“Sorry, I was working and my phone was on silent.” You shifted on your feet as you fought the urge to reach for him and comfort him. “Are you alright? Is Yuki okay?”

“Why don’t you go ask him?”

“Maybe I will,” you said as you started to turn back to the door but he was there in an instant, shutting it closed and sliding the lock into place.

“You don’t go near him. And you definitely don’t make stupid little videos with him.”

Daniel stalked you across his room, taking a step for every one you retreated until your back hit the wall. Still he didn’t stop. Not until he filled your vision and his hands took yours, lifting them above your head and pinning them to the wall.

 “You want to get knotted into positions like that, you come see me, kitten. Not Yuki, or any of those other guys.” 

Your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest but it wasn’t fear that had it racing when he shoved his knee between your legs and spread them. A soft whimper escaped your parted lips as your skirt rode higher and his thigh brushed over the lace of your panties.

“You want that, don’t you?” he teased as his cheek rested against yours, keeping his lips out of your reach. “Has it been keeping you up at night, kitten?”

You screwed your eyes closed so you didn’t have to see the smirk on his face when you nodded but you felt the breath of his quiet laugh on your neck. “Don’t be shy now. Tell me what you need.”

You bit your lip to keep from voicing what you had fantasised but it didn’t stop him from feeling your body betray you. Your legs tightened around him without thinking and your hips rolled over his thick thigh with a whine for more but he used his body to pin you to the wall, unable to move and finish what you started. 

“Is this what you came here for? Because you know I can make you feel good.”

“Yes,” you gasped as you felt every inch of his entire body against yours. But then reality crept in as the throb in your core faded without the friction and you shook your head. “No, stop, I can’t think.”

“Don’t think, just tell me what you need, kitten.”

“The stewards,” you reminded yourself as you pulled your hands free and planted them on his chest. “I have to take you to the stewards, Danny.”

He rocked back on his heels as you pushed against him before he conceded a step back and you could breathe again. Outside of this room he was friendly but inside it he was consuming. 

“You are so bloody confusing,” you muttered as you pulled your skirt back into place.

“How so?” he asked over his shoulder as he unlocked the door.

“You act like you want me some of the time and then…it’s just confusing.”

His hand rested on the doorknob but made no effort to turn it. “I want you all of the time, I wanted you from the moment I saw you. I’m only sometimes smart enough to stop myself.”

You crossed the room and opened the door yourself, ignoring the warmth of his skin as you turned the handle he still held. “I wish you would just choose one or the other so I know where I stand. Now let’s go.”

Daniel smirked as you gave him the order to follow and snapped your fingers until he started moving. “Kitty has claws. I like it.”

Round Three - Australia  Everywhere you looked you saw Danny’s face, posters of him were pasted to the walls and giant cut outs of his head were held up in the packed crowd. The support for him was unbelievable and he was riding the high as he swaggered down the fan walk, signing hats and shirts. It was impossible not to watch his bright smile from where you were organising the tv crews into the order of their live time slots. 

The tension between him and the drivers seemed to have eased since you moved roles and they were all getting along once again when they touched down in Melbourne. The same couldn’t be said for you. It was difficult to breathe in the same room as him, or even look him in the eyes when all you could think of was how close your bodies had been, how close your lips had been. 

“What’s your poison?” Danny asked in your ear over the loud music, caging your body between his and the bartop. You could feel his body heat through the thin material of the clubbing dress you wore and leaned back into him as his familiar cologne chased away the scent of stale underground air.

“I heard there was a half decent red, do you have a recommendation?” you teased as you looked at the wine menu and saw his bottle of DR3 among the selection. 

“Think you can handle it? It’s aged to perfection, with a strong, full body, and has a bit of a kick to it too.”

“That’s quite the mouthful,” you replied as you turned to face him, your eyes lingering on his lips. “Why don’t I taste it and find out?”

If you hadn’t been in a nightclub full of people you fooled yourself into thinking he might have given into the temptation to kiss you but he had pulled away, keeping his lips busy with the beer he ordered instead. And for yet another night you returned to your hotel room alone and longing for something you shouldn’t have any interest in.

“After party tonight,” Daniel whispered in passing after reaching the end of the fan walk. He was gone before you could give him a reply but you caught the wink he threw over his shoulder. 

It was a surprise you still had a job considering you did next to nothing as you lost yourself in the race. Daniel had an extraordinary start and took the lead early on, driving defensively to keep Max from stealing it from him. You weren’t the only one in the office fixated on the race as the tv screens were crowded with colleagues and a collective groan rose when Max caught him on a straight.

“Come on, Danny,” you prayed as the laps trickled away and still he was stuck like glue to Max’s rear wing, the rest of the drivers having a race of their own at least 10 seconds behind. “You can do it.”

“He’s waiting for the final DRS zone,” Gianni said from his cubicle next to yours, barely looking up from the report he was writing. “It’s a good strategy, as long as he has some grip left on his tires.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

The technician finally looked up and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Then he’ll be watching the victory lap from the gravel pit at turn three.”

You rose to your feet as the two Red Bull’s passed the start line and the final lap began. The pen you had been chewing on slipped from your trembling fingers as they came out of turn two and Danny’s rear wing opened, the car flying out of Max’s slipstream. 

You couldn’t breathe as they hurtled towards the sharp corner and Danny cut across the front of Max just in time to turn into the apex, the back tires barely keeping the line without swinging out. Then just as the race had begun, Daniel was ahead and fighting to keep it that way until he passed the chequered flag.

An excited scream overpowered your colleague’s more sedate murmurs of praise and you apologised as you sat back into your seat with the widest grin on your face. 

“What channel are you covering?” Gianni asked as he held his hand out for the radio on your hip.

“Four, marshalls and incidents,” you said with a frown. “Why?”

“I’ll cover you, go catch the podium.”

“Are you sure?” you asked as you unclipped the radio and placed it into his hand.

He clipped it to his belt and waved a hand. “Race is over, it’ll be quiet. Run while you can.”

You didn’t have to be told twice as you pushed your chair in and closed your laptop before rushing out of the building just in time to see the cars pulling into the pits. Your screams were lost with the home crowd who proudly chanted Danny’s name as he stood on top of his halo and threw his hands in the air.

Even with the helmet still firmly in place you knew exactly what smile it was he wore beneath it, one that was mirrored by yours. Pride, awe, joy. You wished you could share the moment with him alone but you would have to share it with the mass of people screaming for him. He still hadn’t given you an answer, he still hadn’t chosen you. 

You watched him thrust the trophy high into the air with the anonymity that came with being surrounded by thousands of fans and you felt a single droplet of champagne reach you as he leapt from the podium to turn his bottle on the crowd. For a moment you thought his eyes had lingered where you were but it was impossible to believe he could see you from the stage he celebrated on. 

Slipping from the crowd, you wove your way to the back where you could finally have the space to breathe again before continuing to the exit with the fans whose race didn’t end as well as yours.

Your phone was ringing once again and you watched as it went to voicemail for the third time. You had sent him a congratulatory text when you reached your room and had a shower but after ten minutes of staring at the dress you had chosen for the after party you decided you weren’t going to go. 

If he couldn’t make the choice of where the two of you stood, you were going to make it for him - alone in your underwear with a bottle of wine that was not as good as his.

You were halfway through the bottle when someone knocked at your door and you paused the tv showing a replay of the post-race interviews and podium celebration. You wanted to tell whoever it was to go away but the next knock was harder and it was Danny who told you to open up. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you cracked the door open an inch, but he pushed it wider and stepped inside. 

“Picking you-” his words drifted off and his steps faltered as the door swung closed and he saw what little you wore. “Wow.”

A slow smile spread over his lips as he closed the distance between you, a large hand drifting behind your back to pull you flush against his body. He smelled fresh from the shower he had taken before leaving his room and your face inched closed to his neck where his cologne was strongest.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

Your hands found the only space they could between you and you felt the hard planes of his abs beneath your palms as you tried to push him away. “You’re meant to be at your party. You won your home race, don’t you want to celebrate it?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” he said as he cupped your face and stared into your eyes. “I saw you there. In the crowd.” You swallowed as his smile faded and he licked his lips. “I saw you leave.”

“I’m sor-”

“Shh, I’m sorry,” he murmured as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. “I want you so fucking bad.”

A fine tremor worked its way over you in anticipation, the weeks of tension reaching a breaking point where something had to give. “What’s stopping you?”

“People will talk.”

Your tongue wet your lips before you dared him. “Let them.”

His eyes drifted down your body before he dragged them slowly back up. “They’ll say you’re too young.”

“Age is just a number.” You used his own words against him, the words that had lingered in your mind since he had said them to you the first day you met.

“They’ll say you only got your job because of me.”

A small giggle bubbled up as your fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt. “I’ll show them my degree.”

“You have all the answers, don’t you, kitten?” he smirked.

“No, there’s still one I’m waiting on...”

The moment hung suspended in the air as his brown eyes searched your face for the answer and he swore under his breath. “Fuck ‘em all. You’re mine.”

His kiss was everything you imagined it would be. Dominant, overpowering, consuming. It was a riptide pulling you to sea and the only way to survive was to relax and let it take you, no matter where it led.

So you did.

Your fingers tore through his buttons and shoved the shirt off his shoulders as you broke the kiss with the desperate need for air and instead pressed your lips to the inked letters on his collar, of love and life.

“Bad things?” you asked as you peered up from beneath your lashes.

He chuckled as he reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, brushing the straps off your shoulders. His hot breath teased your nipple before his mouth sealed around it and you gasped at the tight sensation that shot straight to your core.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he promised as he grabbed your ass and picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Very, very bad things.”

“Tell me,” you begged as he pressed you to the walls, grinding his hips into yours. He nipped your bottom lip and smirked as you rolled your hips in response. “Show me.”

“My innocent, little kitten,” he tutted as his hand wrapped lightly around your throat and your eyes fluttered shut with the small squeeze he gave. “I’ll show you everything, all in good time. Tonight, I want to taste you on my tongue when I make you come. Tonight, I want to hear my name on those lips. Tonight, I want to see just how many times you can come undone before I even fuck you.”

He leaned in closer and you shivered as he breathed in your ear while his fingers brushed aside your panties and you moaned as one teased your ass. “Tomorrow, this is mine.”

Click here for part two.

Tagging: @mloyer @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich

[hedgehog-moss]

I’ve been having a bit of a hay shortage lately—January was very cold and snowy so the animals ate a lot, plus I have an extra mouth to feed this year, and I hadn’t realised Poldine would eat so much in her first year! Next summer I’ll make sure to buy enough hay for 4 animals rather than 3 and a half.

In the meantime I’ve been offering various hay substitutes, such as brambles, or my Christmas tree. It was waiting on the pile of green waste I intend to burn in early spring, until I remembered seeing someone’s ad in the local paper that went “if you want to recycle your Christmas trees, give them to me, my goats will love them!” I figured well, llamas are tall goats, maybe they’ll enjoy a bit of Christmas tree, and they did !

(Baby Poldine is always very circumspect about new foods, but she did end up tasting it.)

Pirlouit was also pleased with this unexpected breakfast. They all took turns nibbling at the tree until only the trunk was left :)

Still, I was trying to contact nearby farmers to ask if they have some hay to spare (it’s not that I’ve run out, I just want to be prepared in case of another cold spell), and I also moved the animals to my other pasture down the road, as there’s still some dry grass there. It’s not well-fenced though, and I wasn’t very confident in this pasture’s ability to contain Pampe, but I figured—there’s no grass to be found in any nearby pasture, so why would she try to leave this one?

(Because Pampe.)

I left the llamas & donkey frolicking in this exciting new place (Poldine looked enchanted to explore a new pasture, she was bounding around like a baby goat!), and I went skiing today, as a (late) birthday gift to myself. The skiing station is just half an hour away and this has become a very anticipated birthday ritual since I moved here! This year I waited until I had found some way to keep the animals busy before taking a day off, so there would be no llama leaks in my absence.

So of course I got a text from a neighbour in the afternoon, telling me my llamas had been spotted on the road, going towards the village. (“Pampe looked determined. She was going to the grocery shop to get muesli.”) (Pampe is so famous, people even know her favourite snacks 😭)

Since I was literally on a ski slope I decided to turn my conscience off and pretend I hadn’t seen the text. I thought, if the llamas do end up in the village I’ll get more texts updating me on their position and I’ll be a responsible llama owner and go home (promise), but they’ll probably get off the road and into the woods somewhere between my house and the village and they’ll spend the afternoon eating communal shrubs and they’ll be fine.

When I went home a few hours later, I found my donkey alone in the pasture where I’d left him in the morning—we both had to wrestle with a moral dilemma today, and Pirlouit’s was “do I loyally follow my friends and potentially starve to death, or do I stay by myself in this place with very adequate dry grass to munch on?” He really hates being alone, yet he chose food over friendship.

I brought Pirou back to his normal pasture (he wouldn’t have liked to find himself alone after sunset) and went looking for the girls. I’d had a neighbour on the phone who had talked to someone who’d talked to someone who had seen the llamas and had “shooed them in the general direction of your house.” That was some very helpful shooing, because I found them just a couple of kilometres away, and indeed going in the right direction.

Pampelune leading the way, determined to go home before night; Pampérigouste last, internally grumbling that it was still early and they could have explored the world some more.

I usually jog with the llamas when I bring them home so we don’t spend too much time in the middle of the road, but there aren’t many cars when the road is icy and also after a day of skiing, you don’t really feel like jogging a few km at a brisk pace in heavy snow boots. So we went home in a slow and solemn procession.

I called the people who had told me about the llamas’ whereabouts to thank them, and explained that this escape was the result of a failed attempt to move the animals to my poorly-fenced second pasture because I don’t have a lot of hay left—and one of them told me he could spare a bale and he’d bring it to me tomorrow!

“So I’ve done everyone a favour” (is probably Pampe’s conclusion.)

I gave them hay as I figured they hadn’t had time to graze much in the other pasture, but only Pampe was hungry. Well, Pirlouit is always hungry, but Pampe indignantly rebuffed him. “You chose food over adventure. You don’t get to eat the food I’m getting as a reward for a successful adventure.”

Pirlouit is completely resigned to the fundamental unfairness of a dutiful donkey’s life.

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Trying To Derail My One Track Mind

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Part 1/2 Life was simple, till you met your boss.

Word Count: 3,300

No warnings till part 2

You wake up to see sun rays peeking through the curtains. Rolling over to face your fiancé you smile at his sleeping form, he looks so peaceful. Too bad you have to go to work and couldn’t just stay like this with him.

You would lie in bed all day with him, if that’s what he wanted. You reach out and pet his beard, pecking his lips before you get up to get ready for work.

You threw on your recycled outfit. Discerning no difference between the black skirt and white button up you wore yesterday. You pull on the dreaded pantyhose that were required for your uniform. Black or tan, you couldn’t express yourself at all.

You look in the mirror, tightly pulling your hair into a high ponytail, leaving out a strand to wrap around the elastic. Makeup was allowed, and recommended during your orientation. Guests prefer being hosted by someone who looks put together.

You work in the kitchen, managing the cooks and wait staff. Sometimes it felt like a real restaurant, and you dreamed of having your own one day. But with the pay you get from the manor, you won’t be following that dream anytime soon.

You give your fiancé one last kiss before you leave. Breakfast is served at 8am, so that means you should be in the kitchen by 6. Most of the people renting it out stroll in well after 9.

You always have to remake half of what you’ve already prepared, with a smile. The owner didn’t care about costs, or you. You never met him, just talked over the phone weekly.

You remember bringing up the food waste after a month of working. He laughed and said “It doesn’t matter what time I serve breakfast, they will find a way to be late. They’re paying, they know they have the luxury to be late.”.

Maybe he was one of them. He sure sounded like it. Like he agreed that money lets you by with things. The people that eat at your table get by with far more than you could imagine at the manor. You’ve been told more than once not to mention a thing that happens inside these walls.

Screams and gunshots have been heard. Guests walking around naked in masquerade masks. One guest brought his own meat, insisted on preparing it himself for everyone. You never saw anything like it, it wasn’t pork, beef, or venison, it reminded you of that page in your biology textbook with the skinless human body.

You don’t like to think about what happened before. The only way you can go back is to forget what happened the day before. You never felt fear, you couldn’t describe it. Like you were apprehensive of every new face you met, but they never snapped their fingers at you. You were never in the room when you heard fights happening, your staff was always well on their way home before dessert finished.

You stayed till the last dish was clean. They’re notified when all the staff goes home, because then there’s no one to wait on them. The bells in the kitchen fall on no ears at all. Leading no one to see which room is ringing.

You saw when they began to turn rowdy. Their drinks from dinner finally hitting them. Drunken debates often broke out, causing the last remaining person on staff to clean up broken glass and wine stains. They were always apologetic and moved the argument to a different room, leaving you alone to clean up their mess.

You sped down the country road, you were running late, today is New Year’s Eve, meaning you’d be staying the night here. You tried to go home last year, but you only spent an hour in bed with your fiancé before you had to return for breakfast.

The owner didn’t care that you had a personal life. Telling you no when you asked to take your paid leave, you told him your fiancé planned the trip as a surprise. Causing him to scoff and deny you again. You knew you should’ve quit then, but you didn’t know what would happen to you if you did. You knew too much, and the mysterious owner was a dick, so you didn’t want to test it.

Pulling down the gravel driveway you park behind the house. Entering through the backdoor that only you have a key to. You prepared for the day, making it easier for your cooks when the guest start ordering things.

The day goes by normally, like there wasn’t a party planned for the night. The owner got it catered by this famous new chef, who wouldn’t be arriving till dinner. You had to wait to be ordered around your own kitchen. The guys French accent was so thick you couldn’t understand a word he said.

Somehow you pulled it together, and your servers were carting out a stuffed bird you’d never heard of. These guests might be the fanciest of any that darkened the doorstep of the manor. They held their heads high, and drank wine that was imported in a big wooden crate you broke a nail opening.

They laughed about politics, and argued pharmaceuticals. You’re about to return to the kitchen when the front of the house man, Bruce, approaches you. “Mr. Barnes will be here at 9. He asked that you be in the library when he gets here.”. He gives you a tight lipped smile, leaving you before you have a chance to respond.

You’ve worked here for two years and the night he decides to meet you is your busiest night. You groan as you walk into the packed kitchen. Dishes being tossed into the sink and metal skillets scrapping the stove causes you sensory overload. You’re already irritated and it’s only 7.

When 9 hits, you decide nows the time you should make your way to the library. You didn’t have time to wait around for him, that kitchen would burn down without you, especially tonight.

When you get there, the doors already cracked open, and there’s a glow of lamplight emitting from it. There’s a man standing with his back to you. “Mr. Barnes?” You ask, not sure since the man seemed younger than you expected.

“You’re late.” He says, you roll your eyes, as if this was planned. “I was busy.” You curtly respond. Taking this as a chance to get off your feet, you sit in the velvet chair across the desk. He turns around once you’ve made yourself comfortable, crossing one leg over the other.

He’s handsome, and like you said, way younger than you expected. He has dark blue eyes, the kind that make a girl act a fool. They had no effect on you though, since all you were focused on is your fiancé. You didn’t really look at other men that way, you could admit when they were attractive, but nothing more. You’re better than that.

He sits down opposite of you, unbuttoning his jacket. “So I’ve been going over your monthly reports. You’re meticulous, you know that?” He gives you a genuine smile. It broke down your wall, filling you with pride at the compliment. “Thank you, I try.” You look down at your hands, picking at your broken nail.

“I know you must be busy with the party and Francois in your kitchen,” he says, causing you to raise your eyebrows. He called it your kitchen, you’re happy the two of you are in agreement. ”, so I don’t want to keep you long. I just thought I should finally meet the person keeping this house afloat.”. You take his compliments like knives. You don’t know if he means them, but you find yourself hoping he does. Causing a pang of guilt to hit you.

Why should you care if another man complimented you. You’re engaged to marry the best guy you could ever ask for. You force the blush down, not letting him see any effect he has on you, you don’t want to give the wrong idea. “If that was all, I think I should be going, like we both said, I’m busy.” You stand up, brushing down your black skirt as you do.

“Of course.” He ignores your attitude, standing to escort you out of the room. You give him a weird look, you know where the door is. “Before you leave tonight I’d like to speak to you again about a pay raise, maybe even a promotion.”.

You stop at the door and turn around and he’s only a foot away from you. You can smell the expensive cologne rolling off him, it almost makes you dizzy. “I’m actually staying tonight.” He seems surprised. “Yeah, it’s just, after I finish closing up the kitchen it will be 2, and it’s almost an hour drive home. I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep before work tomorrow.”.

“Where exactly did you plan on staying? All of the rooms are spoken for?” He asks. “The couch in the break room. It’s employees only, so I was hoping no guests stumble upon me in the night.”. He nods, looking deep in thought. “We’ll talk more later.” He says, like it was a fact.

You return to the kitchen. Things had calmed down a lot, only one cook was left, sprinkling lemon on a platter of hors d’œuvres. You got caught up on washing dishes, and cleaned the messy floors. When you were done, you heard the guests counting down, you walked to the doorway, peering in at them. No one wanted to be alone at this moment, even if you had to spend it with people that didn’t look your way. You watched as a few couples kissed and older men raised their glasses high. Mr. Barnes raised his glass towards you. Keeping his eyes on you as he takes his first sip of the new year.

You flick the kitchen light off. Walking across the dark kitchen you hear the party goes laughing and dancing to thumping music. You know you’d be picking up your champagne flutes out of the carpet in the morning. You smile when you enter the break room, you asked Bonnie, the maid, if she found time today to put you a blanket in here, she didn’t forget. Completely forgetting that your boss wanted to speak to you, you close the door behind you. Grabbing your bag off its hook on the wall, you pull out shorts and a tank top to sleep in.

You quickly change and fall face down on the couch, you don’t even cover up, liking the way your bare legs cooled your body down after sweating in the kitchen all day. You’re out like the kitchen light. That is until you feel a hand on your ankle, shaking you awake.

“Huh?” You say, raising your body up on your knees, causing your ass to lift in the air. “I wanted to speak with you.”. You blink your eyes open, and realize who it is. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.” You say, pulling up the loose strap of your tank top.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, wanting to keep this professional. He sits down on the couch beside you, your heart starts beating a little faster than it should. You haven’t been this close to another man since you started dating your fiancé. It felt weird and taboo, you know you should scoot away, but you don’t.

“I appreciate the work you put in here, and I’d like to show my appreciation by hiring you on as a live in manager of the manor.” You look between his eyes, trying to see if he’s serious. “I- what?” You say, utterly shocked.

He turns, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “Everyone would report to you, Bruce, security, the maids, a new kitchen manager. You’d be making a lot of the decisions in my place, I think I can trust you.” He says, you think over his offer for a second, you know the money would be out of this world, but “My fiancé, I can’t just move out, we’re getting married soon.” You know you have to turn him down.

“Do you want to see your room?” He stands up and starts walking out of the room, just like Bruce, not waiting on a reply. “I don’t think that’s necessary, sir.” He looks back at you, like he can convince you otherwise. “What’s a look gonna hurt?” He says.

He leads you to the end of the guest hall, the last door in sight. You hadn’t been upstairs since your tour of the mansion, so you weren’t really familiar on which room was which, but you’re pretty sure this is the master suite.

He takes a key from his pocket and unlocks the door, opening it to reveal none other than the master suite. “Mr. Barnes, this is the master suite, what are we doing here?” You say, taking in the giant poster bed and red velvet.

“I know where we are, this would be your room, if you were to accept my proposal and if you do, just call me Bucky.” He says, walking around the room, studying it, as if he didn’t know what every inch of his bedroom looked like. You’re at a loss for words, you never imagined living like this, or having such a high paying job. “I can’t, I want to, but I can’t.” You say, feeling like you’re making a mistake.

He crosses the room, standing infront of you. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” He says reaching out to touch your arm. You lock eyes with him when you feel his hand on your skin. This was inappropriate in so many ways. Here you were half naked at 2 am in the master bedroom being touched by a man that wasn’t your fiancé. You can’t move, just like on the couch.

It’s like you can’t act on what your brains telling you, step away, tell him you’re not okay with this, feel uncomfortable. But you can’t, and you won’t, your body wants to. But there’s something inside of you keeping you close to him like a magnet.

Your heart beats rapidly, fear rushes through you. Not fear of him, but what you could do in a state like this. You’re not thinking clearly, you can’t even remove his hand from your arm. The hand that was numbing the skin on your bicep.

“Like I said, Mr. Barnes, I can’t accept. I hope this doesn’t interfere with my current employment.” Finally, you put your brain on autopilot, jutting out a professional declining of his invitation.

He drops his hand, seemingly letting you win this battle. “Of course not,” he ushers you out of the room, locking it behind him. “I shall let the offer stand, as long as you keep up the good work.” You nod your head, knowing you would never bring it up again.

He insists that you join him for one last drink in the lounge. All the guests were in their rooms, fast asleep. “I’ll just have water thanks.” You say, sitting infront of the roaring fire. He walks over the the bar cart, pouring himself bourbon, and you a glass of water from the crystal pitcher.

He sits down beside you again, you notice he’s closer now than what he was in the break room. You clear your throat, “So how did you come by this place?” You ask, wanting to keep your mind off of the heat radiating off of him.

“Inheritance.” He answers curtly, like exposing any further detail was an invasion of privacy. You find yourself nodding your head yet again tonight. You look at the flames tickling the brick walls of the fireplace, they remind you of your fiancés eyes, and in that moment you feel a bullet create a hole in your chest.

If you found out he were having a drink at 2am with his boss, while she was wearing her pajamas; you’d be furious. How hypocritical, that you find yourself sipping your room temperature water, bumping knees with a man you’ve never even met before.

“What do you want in life?” He asks out of the blue. It shocks you, you don’t know if you should tell him the truth or not. You figured, he knows what he’s paying you, it would never buy a restaurant anyways. “Uhm, first and foremost a family, which I’m currently working on. But in the future?” You say, knowing that’s what he meant.

He seems unbothered by you constantly bringing up your fiancé, like it wasn’t a factor in his motives. “I want my own kitchen. My own tables and menu. My guests sitting in my restaurant.” You say, averting your eyes from him. It’s not everyday you tell your boss you don’t plan on working for them forever.

“If you accepted my offer, you’d have that. You would have say over the menu, you would greet the guests and get to know them as if they were your own. You could redecorate, whatever you wanted.” Your mouth drops open slightly, you don’t know if you should believe him, but he hasn’t given you a reason not to.

As soon as fireworks start popping in your head, they die out. “Missed opportunity I guess.”.

“Well it’s getting late, I should be getting to bed.” You say, leaving your empty glass beside his. You make a beeline for the swinging kitchen door, “I don’t think in good conscience I can let you stay on the couch, employee or not, hosting people is my profession after all.” He stands, giving you a smile that reads in different ways. One could be a business man, just doing what he does best, faking a smile.

The longer you stood on opposite sides of the room, silence growing thick between you, the charming smile read differently, like you were prey, caught in a trap. You could retreat and lick your wounds or stay, and be healed and coddled.

“I insist.” He puts his hands in his pockets, walking to the bottom of the stairs. You could see him waiting from the kitchen door, leaning on the banister. It was nonnegotiable, you huff out a breath before grabbing your bag and shoes from the break room. Might as well let this be the first and last night you every get to stay in one of these rooms.

You follow him back up to the master bedroom, he unlocks the door and leads you in yet again. “Where are you staying? I thought we had a full house?” You say, finally realizing, this locked room was the only free bed. He turns around and shrugs his shoulders, “I just thought, we could share, this beds big enough for the two of us, with plenty of professional space for a pillow wall.”. He says, throwing back the covers, tossing the decorative pillows in the middle of the bed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You say, crossing your arms. “I don’t think the couch is a good idea, seeing as you’re scheduled till 7 tomorrow.” He argues. You’re frozen again, like you should fight against him but you can’t, you just let it happen.

Without another word you drop your bag and shoes on the chest at the foot of the bed. You tuck yourself in close to the edge, facing away from him. You set your alarm and close your eyes when he flicks the light off. “Goodnight.” He says, and you try to pretend you’re already asleep, but “night.” Slips from your lips before you could rethink it.

[guardian5tiger3]

Pick a group Tarot Read .

1 2

3 4

Picture one

You guys are needing some time to relax and find some peace and feel good . I'm picking up on a garden. And maybe you could listen to some calm music or some type of calming audio. You might also find it in your interest to visit some first of garden . This is especially for you if you're trying to quit or cut back on any addiction . At least for the mentality part of that, it is good when you get the mental side of a craving to find an activity that makes you feel good , of course that's the best distraction. I keep messing up on my words also and I'm not sure what it means do one of you have a crush cause I also am getting the vibe of like, school desks though .??? Maybe some of you need to mentally take it back to a time when you were younger and felt better in some way, or there might be something you find brings you nostalgia that you liked back then. Maybe some of you need to get yourself to a point where you can have a good cry. Also something about a milkshake . That does sound good if you like those there's an idea if you should make yourself feel better from something .

Picture two

Are you guys stoners or just real mellow types ?? Looks like you're running into some good luck . Y'all might find something and just like, get lucky somehow I don't know...

I think right now I can tell you guys the world is set up in some ways that you're frowned upon if you don't want to participate in things that doesn't even suite anybody and sometimes is completely immoral. Like literally money for instance as a bigger example. Or working a job. You guys might not be the types to naturally want to go with something like that at all and I think that the world is gonna say you're bad or horrible or wrong for that but I don't think you should care. I think it'll work out for you in true pot head fashion . Ride the waves my friends. But don't conform to something your soul doesn't like. I also keep thinking about Cheech and Chong and Scooby Doo ? Maybe you guys need a friend or have friends or maybe you have or are or will go through a phase of separation but you might not be separated forever though . You might also be loners and that's what you want to do then fine don't let the world tell you you have to have people around like that .

Picture three

Like half of you are in love with a person and with them half of you are in love with an activity or something you're learning or participating in somehow . Basically I'm seeing you might be being tested with random suitors or distractions but who or whatever you're in love with right now is the right and only one for you basically. Also picking up on snacks make sure you have those around especially for brain health and snacks uplift a person's mood for sure haha . One love. That's basically it .

Picture four

someone is selfish and also hates on you and wants to or has recently brought you to a place like McDonald's. DO NOT eat there . They put some awful things in their food and that's why they came out with things that are so cheap. Like waste being recycled and stuff and meat from animals you wouldn't want to eat and stuff. I'm gonna keep it real this person has a seemingly happy social life and probably family situation but you don't like them but for whatever reason are accompanying them but you might also fight or just judge them in your mind . They practice mind control and are a member of the cult going on in this world right now you know like from Hollywood to parts of the government (American) fast food and everything stuff like that also child abuse is big for them. I don't know what you want to call it illuminati or freemason's or just American cult or whatever I don't like them . Avoid watching TV instead watch YouTube or older movies . If you guys heal something for yourselves you will realize some type of lie or lies going on. You also some of you might be scared to get kicked out or be homeless . I'm also thinking of the movie the crow. The new one is disrespectful and I do not support it or condone it but the old 90's The Crow . Some of you not only are incarnated but maybe you were a popular person or considered important or well known somehow . Someone might know this about you . Probably your family or for one of you dude it's someone that is friends with your family and it's a man.

I know on my own time I'm realizing a lot about celebrity cloning and they've been doing that since at least 1969 . And basically if an influencer doesn't influence the way they want to influence they will clone them because it would be weird if everyone who did or said something new or against the government just died early asl. Anyway that's why it might be difficult for some of you to put together who you might have been . Maybe someone has told me maybe not outright maybe some fucking how but maybe there's just hints about it you know what I mean. Leave it to destiny I guess in the end though.

[gabrielleyueerrrrr]

My thoughts on Influencer Arc Ep.1

Major spoilers for Influencer Arc Ep.1. "Green's channel"!

Alright, we've all watched the newest episode, and I have to say, the plot is nothing new. The kids exploring something they've never seen/done before, accidentally going too far/making a few mistakes, and now there's this eldritch being with cool powers trying to kill them. We've seen it before,

again,

and again,

and again.

Ok, I get it, what is a stick animation without epic fighting scenes? And the fighting scenes in the new episode are so creative and well crafted. The gang utilized Adobe Premiere's features to battle the glitching video Green, showcasing seamless teamwork and impressive adaptability, and ultimately dunking it into the recycling bin with a final breathtaking move. Not gonna lie, I was grinning like an idiot the whole episode.

What makes the glitching video green(I'm just going to refer to them as glitch from now on) unique is that they weren't an established entity like Herobrine, Youtube and Lucky Block. For the first time, the color gang were fighting someone, or something, that was entirely their own creation, hostile because they were created as a mistake.

Does that ring a bell? Yes, I'm talking about how similar the glitch was to Victim. Both were created unloved, both rebelled against their creator(s), and both met a swift end at the very hands that brought them to their existence.

So how was the glitch different? Why should Alan be blamed for abusing and murdering his creation but not the Color Gang? Is it because we're emotionally attached to the gang so we can turn a blind eye and convince ourselves it's not a big deal?

Well, not really. Unlike Alan, the color gang is totally justified in this.

Firstly, Alan created Victim out of malice (hence the name), Victim was meant to suffer, to be humiliated and toyed with, all for his creator's entertainment. But the color gang didn't hold such malice. Yes, the glitch was a result of their failed editing, but who would have thought they would suddenly gain sentience and came to life? (If all the failed editing projects I discarded in the past came back to haunt me I'd be buried three feet beneath the gound by now).

(And really, how does creation of digital life even work in the AVA universe? Why did this particular video come to life but not others? Is it just spontaneous and random? I guess this would remain a mystery like Second's creation unless Alan decides to explain it in future AVA episodes:/)

Secondly, the colour gang, although wary of the glitch, shown kindness upon the initial encounter.

Even after the glitch attacked Green first, Second still intervened to stop Red's aggression, instead grabbing the glitch in a questioning manner:" Why did you punch our friend when he was trying to be nice?"

It was only after Second too was struck to the ground did the gang start to treat the glitch as an enemy.

On the contrary, Alan started the assault, forced Victim to act in self defence, eventually deleting him.

Still, an overly sentimental part of me still felt bad for the glitch. Being created as a distortion, a mistake, unwanted and unloved, they had a reason to be mad at their creators. If only there was a way to get rid of those excessive effects and turn the glitch back to a normal video, then maybe the gang could earn themselves another cool friend.

Or maybe not. If the glitch's existence was born from their identity as a "mistake", would they still exist once that very "mistake" was rectified?

[esamastation]

Part thirty-eight of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven

-

What have we learned? Well, for one, Sephiroth really misses qiankun storages, and the fact that Final Fantasy VII infinite inventories don't seem to be actually real is very disappointing. Two, he seems to have brought back more than just knowledge from PIDW.

His meridian system, though still scarred and unyielding, has already adapted to a cultivator's natural defences against outward energies.

Which makes sense! If a cultivator lets stuff like Final Fantasy VII EXP into their system without properly working that energy into something safe they can use, they'd be courting Qi-deviation all the time. That kind of openness, in a world with the Five Phases and resentful energies - never mind demonic ones! - would be deadly to any cultivator.

One of the first things he'd learned as Shen Qingqiu was to shield himself from that kind of thing. Shen Qingqiu was prone to Qi-deviations in the original text, something he didn't have the time for! So he'd figured out what he was good at, what his element was, and he stuck to it. And he's proud to say he didn't have a Qi-deviation, not even once, in all his years as Shen Qingqiu. Not even with Without a Cure gnawing at his meridians!

But Final Fantasy VII works by different rules. They have different energies. Everyone takes in a portion of the Qi from their kills - a portion of their share of the Lifestream, maybe? And that's normal! The whole world is mired in this huge energy recycling and redistribution system, and Qi-deviations simply aren't a thing.

There's just, you know, madness and memory loss and weird mutations, though that was mostly Mako and Jenova… probably.

Running a hand over his neck, Sephiroth glances to where Angeal sits propped up against a crooked tree, arms folded and head nodding with his breaths, fast asleep. Angeal… who's been acting as a sponge to all the stray energy coming off from their kills.

The whole thing makes Sephiroth feel a little ill. It's probably fine - Angeal actually seems to think he'd benefited from it at Sephiroth's expense! It's what the people of this world are used to, it's what they've evolved with! They actually can grow really strong with it! Sephiroth should know, he grinded both Cloud and Zack to the highest level, and they were really OP!

And yet it… still feels wrong. Sephiroth feels kinda like an awful master, making ignorant disciples to absorb resentful energy so that he didn't have to. They were a couple of those in PIDW, awful shifus abusing Binghe's future wifes for their own benefit, and Shen Yuan hated each and every one of them. 

Ugh.

Okay, okay. EXP versus Qi. Maybe it's different? Since this world has an energy recycling system, not a rebirth system, maybe there are just aspects to it he doesn't get? There probably are! Honestly, for all that it all feels familiar, it also feels a little.. off.

Even here, in the middle of this very lively and monster-filled forest… Sephiroth can't feel much nuance from the place. The forest feels alive, just teeming with energy, but that's… kind of it? For a place that should be aligned with the element of Wood or maybe Earth, it doesn't exactly feel like it.

So, maybe instead of different elements, here there are different stages of energy. Like Lifestream and Materia are the same thing in different stages of matter, maybe everything else is… somewhere in between? MP, magic, and EXP, all just different expressions of the same energy? Hmm…

Maybe EXP is like - like natural photosynthesis? No, that doesn't make sense, uh… spiritual respiration, maybe? Energy digestion? A whole different, but fundamental aspect of local evolution, either way. It would make sense, on a planet that's literally alive, like an organism.

Ugh, he hates making guesses. Where's his wikis and fan sites full of meta analysis and worldbuilding theories when he needs them?!

Sighing with frustration, Sephiroth looks through his phone again, reading the pertinent tutorial entries. They aren't particularly useful. There's nothing about the Lifestream, very little about Mako and not much at all about Materia, aside from how to equip it and use it. People believe that the knowledge of the Ancients is trapped within the Materia, yeah, sure, but like. How? What kind of knowledge? 

Thoughtful, Sephiroth reaches for Masamune, resting on the tree roots beside him, and carefully eases one of the marbles of Materia out of its handle. Unlike the forest, the Materia definitely has an element. Specifically, Fire. Rolling the little green orb in his fingers, Sephiroth considers the feel of it at length, sending his spiritual senses, such as they are, into it.

It feels kinda alive. A bit like the ginkgo tree, actually, but much more. It feels like the accumulation of energy over generations and cycles, and lives.

It also feels a bit like Fire burns. Which is. Uh. Well. It certainly is a type of knowledge? 

What does that mean for other types of Materia? Ice is cold, lightning goes boom, maybe? Recovery means to heal? Huh.

Interesting. But not as much as the knowledge that the Materia, like Angeal, is still growing. Which, yeah, Sephiroth knew that was a thing, it happened in the games, Materia levels up and even spawns offsprings and everything, but man. It's something very different to feel it with your own spiritual senses. 

Materia are a breed of sorta-kinda awakened spirit stones! Wild.

None of which helps him with his EXP dilemma. At this rate he might have to just set aside everything that holds true about cultivation back home and write a whole new cultivation manual, or something. Call it… Lifestream Cultivation. Evening You Need to Know, Cultivating in a Sci-fi Fantasy Dystopia On the Brink of Collapse!

Yeah, Sephiroth would like to know what he needs to know, please. Not that it would probably help, he'll still need to do the work…

… and none of it makes his overall situation as Sephiroth any easier. It's anything, he's probably making everything worse, acting all weird!

Sighing, Sephiroth lowers the orb of Materia and puts it back into its proper place before looking up at the sky. There's a moon shining past the tree branches. The forest is softly rustling around them as Angeal quietly snores, and a gentle breeze moves through the treetops. Thankfully, the old edict of random encounters holds true - they only happen when you're moving! Very handy, that.

It doesn't quite sound or smell or feel like home. Spiritual Mountain Bamboo has its own distinctive vibe, and Sephiroth hasn't even seen any regular Bamboo in this place. Still, it's beautiful. Wild and full of life and extremely inhospitable to its hostile invaders.

Yeah.

Sephiroth isn't sure how long he can put off making a decision here.

[nightcolorz]

I know you are not home (home being the internet) but you can answer when you are back

(hey! if you are reading this, welcome back!)

Anyway I've been thinking lately about Marius's handling of Daniel when he was "sick" (crazy) and what it says about him and his core values

Specifically:

Not informing Armand that Daniel was unwell and with him

And

Not tolerating Daniel's choice of creative outlet fully, namely not letting him use recycling and assorted objects to build his little cities and making him use only mass produced packs

I think both things are very telling of who Marius is as a person, he doesn't see Daniel and Armand's relationship as something valuable, he is blindsided when they get back together (which happens basically the second they are allowed the privacy to have a full conversation) and he doesn't think what Daniel is doing with his models as real art

I can't help but think he made sure Armand and Daniel didn't have contact those years because he knew if they did they would both abandon him, but he told himself (and maybe even believed that he was doing it to protect them both out of love)

He thinks love equals control and that love can not exist without hierarchy and subservience

Thoughts?

It took me so long to answer this bcus I have massive thoughts!

I think the way that Marius treats Daniel and Armand when it comes to their creative outlets is rlly interesting and telling and I’m so happy u brought that up. I’ve always gotten the impression that Marius is kind of pretentious about art. He has the whole “control = love” mentality and I think that’s plays into what he thinks art is/means. The way that Marius creates is by making exact replicas of real life or pre existing paintings with his vampire mimicking skills. So his art always comes off as very detailed and fascinating but also impersonal and in some way artificial. When he ends up accidentally inserting parts of himself into his work (like painting pandora into his piece when he’s thinking of her) he considers it in error and erases it. I get the impression that Marius considers art more the act of possessing smth preexisting and making it in his own image, taking control over it by immortalizing it, rather then expressing a part of himself or reflecting on some meaning.

he sort of pushes that perspective onto Daniel when hes under his care by making him use store bought items to create his models instead of letting him delve into his mind to sort through some creativity and make smth of his own. Marius likely thinks that by allowing Daniel to only build things in this specific correct way he is both teaching Daniel how to correctly make art and he is also controlling daniel and any kind of narrative that may be happening by restricting Daniel by exploring any of his self or emotions that Marius doesn’t have a say over. Daniel can’t delve into his “crazy” mind to create if Marius controls what he is creating, and I think Marius sees this as a good thing. The less access Daniel has to his sense of self the less likely he’ll go “mad” (and the less likely Marius won’t be able to keep him docile anymore)

when it comes to Armand, when Armand was a child he was very artistically skilled and inclined. He was so religious and faith meant sm to him that he only drew religious icons, which caused him to be taken advantage of and exploited by figures in his community. When he is sexually assaulted and sold into slavery he represses his childhood memories and his ability to paint. painting becomes traumatically triggering for Armand, and reminds him of how he feels like he’s lost his faith and connection to god bcus of what’s happened to him, and he refuses to do it. Instead of trying to encourage Armand to recontextualize his relationship with art and to use it as an outlet to regain his identity Marius instead takes advantage of the opportunity he sees of Armand being a blank slate and pushes his own views of religion and art onto him as to replace to old ones. I know Marius had good intentions there, and was probably like “by giving Armand a more positive view of this he will be less terrified”, but what he ends up doing is further depriving a slave child from his cultural identity and religious values by teaching him that his faith is the wrong type of faith and he should consume art the way marius does. Marius is once again asserting his control over someone in his care’s capacity for creativity by making sure his perspective is the one that is dominating the creation.

The way I see it, as an artist Marius understands the power of art and creation and knows that to keep his “love = control so these dudes I love need to be under my control” mentality he needs to limit how his loved ones r able to engage with their own creativity so that they aren’t tapping into a level of independence that is beyond Marius’s power.

I think this is also exactly why he limits Armand’s ability to interact with Daniel while he’s “sick”. Armand and daniels relationship is such a hurricane and Marius definitely knows that if he puts those two in the same room they r a force that he can’t push around to his will. But I think Marius is definitely telling himself that he’s separating Armand and Daniel bcus Armand is a mentally ill unstable lunatic who will ruin daniels brain and Daniel is too fragile to deal with that. I also think that since Armand and daniels relationship doesn’t follow this master and apprentice dynamic and is instead this emotional colorful hot mess crazy kid combo who can’t keep there hands off each other and r addicted to each others blood that it’s therefore Bad and Irresponsible (it is but it’s better then whatever Marius thinks is correct 💀) so he needs to be the big parent and protect them from themselves (keep them reliant on him so that they don’t leave him)

thnak u for the ask this is all so interesting !!