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st4rlvr · 15 days ago

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By the lake || LFX

The summer of 1943 began like every other. Days of heat shimmered over the endless green lawns of our estate, the hum of cicadas filling the air as I sat on the veranda with my mother, dutifully pretending to care about the guest list for our next garden party. It was the summer before my eighteenth birthday, the one my parents insisted would change everything a season of suitors, family alliances, and preparing for the life they had so carefully planned for me. I thought I knew my future. I thought my days would always be as predictable as the breeze through the magnolia trees.

But then Clara convinced me to go to the drive in theater that night.

We snuck out after dinner, giggling like schoolgirls as we crept past my father’s study and out into the warm summer night. Clara had borrowed her brother’s old truck, and the two of us tumbled into it with whispered promises to be back before anyone noticed.

The theater was on the outskirts of town, tucked away in a dusty lot where the wealthier families rarely ventured. I remember the thrill of it the smell of buttered popcorn, the flickering light of the projector, the low murmur of voices as the audience settled in. It was nothing like the stiff parties and curated perfection of my usual world. It felt alive.

That’s where I saw him.

Felix.

He was leaning against a rusted pickup truck, the kind of vehicle that seemed barely held together by sheer determination. His dirty blonde hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times, and his freckles caught the light of the screen above us. But it was his smile that stopped me in my tracks. Wide, boyish, and utterly disarming. He looked so out of place yet so comfortable, as though he belonged to this world in a way I never could.

I didn’t realize I was staring until Clara nudged me.

“Do you know him?” she whispered, her eyes flicking between me and the boy across the lot.

“No,” I said quickly, though my cheeks flushed. “I was just… looking.”

Clara grinned mischievously. “Well, he’s looking at you too.”

And he was.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, the noise of the theater faded away. It was just him, standing there with that easy smile and those impossibly warm brown eyes. He raised a hand in a small, almost shy wave, and I felt my heart stumble in my chest.

Clara, always braver than I, took it upon herself to act. She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me across the lot, weaving between cars and groups of strangers until we were standing right in front of him.

“Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m Clara, and this is Y/N.”

Felix’s gaze shifted to me, and up close, he was even more breathtaking. The freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose were like constellations, and his voice, when he spoke, was soft and deep yet magnetic.

“Hi,” he said, his smile widening. “I’m Felix.”

And just like that, the course of my summer and maybe my life changed forever.

We talked through the entire movie. Clara excused herself at some point, muttering something about not being a third wheel, but I barely noticed. Felix told me about his family, about how he worked at the docks to help his parents make ends meet, about how he dreamed of traveling one day even though he’d never been more than fifty miles from town.

“I’ve always wanted to see the world,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet longing. “But for now, I guess this little corner of it will have to do.”

I didn’t tell him then, but I envied him. His life, though hard, seemed so real compared to the carefully curated existence I’d been raised in. He lived with purpose, with dreams that were his own, not handed to him by someone else.

By the time the credits rolled, I knew I wanted to see him again. And when he asked his voice hesitant, his cheeks pink with nervousness I said yes without a second thought.

That summer, Felix became my secret. Every stolen moment, every whispered conversation under the stars, felt like a rebellion against the life I was supposed to lead. And though I didn’t know what the future held for us, I knew one thing for certain: I’d never forget the boy with dirty blonde hair, freckles, and a smile that could light up even the darkest night.

The moon hung low in the sky that night, its pale glow shimmering over the lake like silver lace. The air was warm, and the soft hum of crickets filled the silence between us as Felix and I walked along the water’s edge. It was late too late for me to be out but I didn’t care. Being with him felt worth the risk.

Felix had brought me here, his secret spot, a place he said he came to when the world felt too heavy. It was quiet and still, the kind of place where the weight of the world seemed to melt away. He’d spread out an old blanket under a willow tree, and we sat side by side, our shoulders brushing as we looked out over the rippling water.

I glanced over at him, watching as the moonlight danced across his face. His dirty blonde hair was slightly messy, the ends curling from the humidity, and his freckles stood out against his sun-kissed skin. He was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache, a way that felt almost unfair.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked softly, breaking the silence.

Felix turned his head toward me, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me like he was trying to memorize every detail of my face.

“I’m thinking about how lucky I am,” he said finally, his voice low and steady.

I felt my cheeks flush, and I looked away, suddenly nervous under his gaze. “Lucky?”

He nodded, leaning back on his hands as he stared up at the sky. “Yeah. I mean, look at me. I’m just some guy from the wrong side of town, working at the docks to get by. And then there’s you—this incredible, smart, beautiful girl who comes from a world I can’t even imagine.”

“Felix…” I started, but he shook his head, cutting me off gently.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said, his voice growing softer. “Every time I’m with you, it feels like… like I’m dreaming. Like I’m living a life I don’t deserve.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he deserved everything good in this world, but the words caught in my throat.

He leaned closer then, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous, but… I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The world seemed to stop. The crickets, the soft rustle of the willow branches, even the gentle lap of the water against the shore—all of it faded into nothing. It was just Felix, sitting there with his messy hair and his wide, hopeful eyes, waiting for me to say something.

My breath hitched, and I looked down at my hands, trying to find the words. When I finally looked up, he was still watching me, his expression open and vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache.

“I think I’m falling in love with you too,” I whispered.

The smile that spread across his face was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was pure, unfiltered joy, and in that moment, I knew I’d do anything to keep that smile on his face.

He reached for my hand then, his fingers intertwining with mine as he pulled me closer. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Y/N,” he said softly. “But I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. To make us work.”

I nodded, tears stinging my eyes as I rested my head on his shoulder. In that moment, under the willow tree with the lake stretching out before us, I felt something I’d never felt before.

Hope.

And for the first time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, love could be enough.

The weeks that followed my first night with Felix felt like a dream. We stole moments whenever we could, meeting under the willow by the lake, walking hand in hand along the quiet backroads, and talking about everything and nothing until the stars faded into morning. I didn’t care about the risks. All I knew was that with him, I felt alive.

But dreams don’t last forever.

It was late one evening when it all came crashing down. Felix and I had just returned from the lake. He’d walked me as close to the house as he dared, kissing my hand in the shadows before slipping away into the night. I was still floating on the warmth of his touch, his voice echoing in my mind, when I stepped through the back door of the house.

My father was waiting for me.

He stood in the dim light of the hallway, his arms crossed and his expression as hard as stone. My heart sank the moment I saw him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and cold. “Where have you been?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with an excuse, but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t need me to answer. He already knew.

“You’ve been sneaking out,” he continued, his tone sharp as a blade. “With that boy.”

“His name is Felix,” I said quietly, my voice trembling.

My father’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what his name is. Do you have any idea how reckless you’ve been? How foolish?”

“He’s not foolish,” I shot back, my voice rising despite the lump in my throat. “He’s kind and smart and—”

“And poor,” my father interrupted, his words cutting through mine like a whip. “He works on the docks, Y/N. He has nothing to offer you. No future, no stability, no place in this family.”

My stomach twisted, and I clenched my fists at my sides. “He’s more than that. He’s a better person than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“That may be,” my father said, his voice softening slightly, though his eyes remained cold. “But love isn’t enough, not in the real world. You have a responsibility to this family, to your future. You can’t throw it all away for some boy.”

His words hit me like a blow, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. My father had always been strict, but I’d never seen him like this—so unyielding, so determined to put an end to something he didn’t even understand.

Tears stung my eyes as I finally found my voice. “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through, what he’s capable of. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I didn’t even know I needed.”

My father’s jaw tightened, and he let out a heavy sigh. “You’re young, Y/N. You think this is love, but it’s just a passing infatuation. You’ll see that in time.”

“No,” I said firmly, my voice breaking. “You’re wrong.”

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “This ends tonight. You’re not to see him again.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in the dim hallway, my heart shattering into pieces.

I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face as his words echoed in my mind. I knew he wouldn’t bend, wouldn’t change his mind. He would do whatever it took to keep Felix and me apart.

But as I sat there, clutching my knees to my chest, I made a silent promise to myself.

This wasn’t over. Not yet.

The days after that night felt like a prison sentence. My father had made good on his threat, confining me to the estate under the guise of “protecting my reputation.” My mother, ever the diplomat, assured me it was only for a short while. “You need time to think, darling,” she had said, as if this was all for my benefit. But I didn’t need time to think. I already knew my heart belonged to Felix, no matter how much my father disapproved.

Weeks passed, each one more unbearable than the last. I spent my days staring out the window, imagining Felix by the lake or at the docks, wondering if he thought I had abandoned him. My father had forbidden any mention of him in the house, and I was too afraid to write to him.

Then Clara came to visit.

She arrived one afternoon, her voice cheerful and bright as she chatted with my mother before finding me in the garden. As soon as we were alone, her expression changed, her playful grin replaced with something softer, more serious.

“I saw him,” she said quietly, her eyes watching me carefully.

I froze, my heart lurching in my chest. “Felix?”

She nodded, sitting down beside me on the stone bench. “He was in town yesterday, near the docks. He looked… different.”

“Different how?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Like he’s been worried,” Clara said gently. “He asked about you, Y/N. Said he hadn’t seen you in weeks and wondered if you were all right.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and I looked away, biting my lip to keep from crying. “He probably thinks I’ve forgotten about him,” I whispered.

Clara reached out and took my hand, squeezing it tightly. “I told him you hadn’t. That your father’s been keeping you here.”

I turned to her, hope sparking in my chest. “What did he say?”

She hesitated for a moment before answering. “He said he misses you. That he’s been waiting for you by the lake every single night, hoping you’d come back.”

My breath caught, and a tear slipped down my cheek. “I don’t know what to do, Clara. My father won’t let me leave, and if he finds out I’ve been seeing Felix…”

“You can’t stay locked up forever,” Clara said firmly. “You love him, don’t you?”

I nodded, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “More than anything.”

Clara’s lips curved into a small, determined smile. “Then I’ll help you. We’ll find a way.”

Her words were like a lifeline, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again. Felix was still there, still waiting, and I knew I couldn’t let him down.

I didn’t know how we’d manage it, how we’d find a way to be together in a world that seemed determined to keep us apart. But one thing was certain: I wasn’t ready to give up on him. Not now, not ever.

The next morning, my father announced we’d be heading into town to pick up more seed for the garden. It was the first time in weeks he’d allowed me to leave the estate, and while the outing was far from exciting, I jumped at the chance. Anything to escape the suffocating walls of home.

The general store was quiet, with only a few familiar faces browsing the aisles. My father headed straight to the counter to discuss the seed order, leaving me to wander aimlessly. I trailed my fingers along the shelves of canned goods, my mind elsewhere, when something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.

A flash of blonde.

I turned instinctively toward the window, my breath hitching. There he was. Felix.

He stood just outside the store, leaning casually against the frame of the large display window. His dirty blonde hair glowed in the sunlight, and his freckled face was turned toward the glass, scanning the interior. He hadn’t seen me yet, but the sight of him was enough to send my heart racing.

Before I could think, I was moving, my feet carrying me toward the door. The bells above the door jingled as I pushed it open, stepping out into the warm summer air.

“Felix!” I called, my voice louder than I intended.

He turned at the sound of his name, his eyes widening when he saw me. A smile spread across his face, slow and beautiful, the kind of smile that made me forget the rest of the world existed.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice laced with relief and something deeper.

I didn’t stop until I was standing in front of him, so close I could see the faint golden flecks in his brown eyes. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of emotions—relief, joy, and the ache of all the time we’d lost.

“I was hoping I’d see you,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been coming into town more often, just in case… well, just in case you were here.”

My heart clenched, and I reached out, my hand brushing against his. “Felix, I’m so sorry. My father—he won’t let me leave the house. He—”

Felix shook his head, cutting me off gently. “You don’t have to explain, Y/N. Clara told me everything. I just needed to know you were all right.”

“I’ve missed you,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

His smile faltered, his eyes softening as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ve missed you too,” he said quietly. “More than I can say.”

For a moment, the world around us faded away. It was just Felix and me, standing there in the sunlight, his hand warm against mine. But the spell was broken all too quickly by the sound of my father’s voice calling my name from inside the store.

I flinched, glancing over my shoulder toward the door. Felix’s hand tightened around mine.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in his jaw. “No matter how long it takes, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I nodded, squeezing his hand one last time before stepping back. “I’ll find a way,” I promised.

As I walked back into the store, the bells jingling softly above me, I felt my father’s sharp gaze on me. But I didn’t care. Felix was still here, still waiting, and so was I.

The moment I stepped back into the store, I felt my father’s eyes on me. His face was unreadable, but the tight set of his jaw told me everything I needed to know. He had seen us.

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice sharp but low, so no one else in the store could hear.

My heart pounded as I tried to form an answer, but I knew there was no point in lying. “It was Felix,” I said softly.

His expression darkened, and he took a step closer, his voice dropping even further. “I thought I made myself clear, Y/N. You are not to see that boy again.”

I straightened my shoulders, summoning what little courage I had left. “You don’t understand, Father. Felix isn’t some troublemaker or a passing fancy. He’s… he’s important to me.”

“Important?” My father’s voice rose slightly, and a few heads turned in our direction. He took a breath, visibly reining in his temper. “You think your feelings matter more than your future? Than this family’s reputation?”

I clenched my fists at my sides, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Why does it always have to be about reputation? About what other people think? Felix is kind, he’s hardworking, and he loves me for who I am, not for what I have. Isn’t that worth something?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re young, Y/N. You don’t understand what it takes to build a life, to secure a future. Love doesn’t put food on the table or maintain a household. That boy—Felix—he has nothing to offer you.”

“You don’t know him!” I snapped, my voice trembling. “You don’t know anything about him or how he makes me feel. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I won’t give him up just because he doesn’t fit into your perfect little plan.”

For a moment, my father just stared at me, his face a mixture of anger and disbelief. Then, his expression hardened, and his voice turned cold.

“If you insist on defying me, there will be consequences,” he said. “I’ve indulged your foolishness long enough, Y/N. This ends now.”

My heart sank, and panic clawed at my chest. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if you so much as look at that boy again, I’ll make sure he’s out of your life for good,” he said, his tone icy. “Do you understand me?”

Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. “You can’t do that,” I whispered.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Watch me.”

I stared at him, my chest heaving with anger and fear. This wasn’t just about Felix anymore—it was about control, about my father’s need to dictate every aspect of my life.

But as I looked into his steely eyes, I made a silent vow. He could try to keep us apart, but he would never break the bond Felix and I shared.

“Are we finished here?” I asked, my voice trembling but steady enough to convey defiance.

My father straightened, giving me a long, hard look before turning away. “Get in the car,” he said.

I followed him out of the store, my mind racing with thoughts of Felix and the promises we’d made to each other. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

As I followed my father out of the store, my heart felt heavy, each step dragging me further away from Felix. The bells on the door jingled again as we stepped outside, the warm summer sun beating down on us. My father marched ahead toward the car, his posture stiff with anger.

But I couldn’t move. Something made me stop, my chest tightening with an inexplicable pull. Slowly, I turned back toward the store.

There he was.

Felix stood across the street, leaning against a wooden post, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn trousers. He wasn’t smiling now, his usual playful expression replaced by something deeper—something sad and longing. His dirty blonde hair caught the sunlight, and even from this distance, I could see the faint freckles scattered across his cheeks.

Our eyes met, and it was like the world around us disappeared. My father’s sharp voice, the bustling of the town, even the sound of my own heartbeat—it all faded into the background.

He took a small step forward, his gaze locked on mine as if silently asking me if I was okay. The worry in his eyes sent a wave of warmth and pain rushing through me. I wanted nothing more than to run to him, to tell him everything, to bury my face in his chest and let him hold me.

But I couldn’t. Not with my father only a few feet away.

Still, I couldn’t stop myself from taking one small step back toward the store, my hand brushing against the doorframe as if it could anchor me to this moment. Felix must have noticed the hesitation in my step because his expression softened, a flicker of hope breaking through the sadness.

“Y/N!” My father’s voice snapped me out of the trance, cold and sharp as ice.

I flinched, my head whipping around to see him standing by the car, glaring at me. “Get in. Now.”

I glanced back at Felix, my heart aching as I saw him straighten up, his jaw tightening. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes.

I’ll wait for you, they seemed to say. I always will.

Tears stung my eyes as I nodded ever so slightly, a silent promise passing between us. Then, with every ounce of strength I had, I turned and walked to the car, my father’s disapproving stare burning into my back.

As I climbed into the passenger seat, I caught one last glimpse of Felix through the window. He was still standing there, watching as the car pulled away, his figure growing smaller and smaller until he finally disappeared from view.

I rested my head against the window, tears sliding silently down my cheeks. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

It had been over a year since I last saw Felix. A year of unanswered letters, fleeting memories, and a heavy ache that I couldn’t shake. In that time, I had tried to move forward—tried to immerse myself in the world my father had set out for me. But nothing felt right. No matter how many social events I attended, how many conversations I had, my thoughts always returned to Felix—the way he looked at me, the sound of his voice, the way his smile made me feel alive.

One afternoon, as I walked through the town square, lost in thought, I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. The voice was unmistakable, but it was different, rougher, like time had changed him in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

I turned the corner, and there he was.

Felix stood by the storefront, his back to me, a guitar slung across his shoulder. His dirty blonde hair had grown a little longer, his face still dotted with freckles, but his posture was more slumped now, his clothes worn, the edges frayed. He wasn’t the same boy I had left by the lake, but the core of him was still there—still as magnetic as ever.

And he was singing.

“I know it’s over,” he crooned softly, his voice low and raw, vibrating with every word. The lyrics were drenched in sorrow, an aching kind of melancholy that seemed to echo through the air. “I know it’s over, and it never really began…”

The sound of his voice wrapped around me like a spell, drawing me in, pulling me closer. I stood frozen for a moment, just watching him, my heart pounding in my chest. How had I not found him sooner? Had he been here all this time, singing his heart out on the street, just waiting for me to come back?

He reached the end of the verse, his voice breaking slightly with emotion, and it felt like the world stopped spinning. He closed his eyes for a moment, lost in the music, unaware of my presence. The rawness of his voice, the pain laced within it, made me ache in a way I hadn’t in so long.

The last note lingered in the air, and for a heartbeat, everything was still.

It was then that he finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and everything came crashing down. His gaze widened, the flicker of recognition flashing through his expression before he quickly looked away, as though unsure whether he should be relieved or hurt by my presence.

I couldn’t move. I wanted to run to him, to pull him into my arms, but my feet stayed glued to the ground.

After what felt like forever, Felix lowered his guitar, his hands trembling slightly as he wiped his face. “Y/N,” he said, his voice shaky, as if he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things. “I… I didn’t think you’d come back.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, and I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I didn’t know where you were,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ve been searching for you, Felix. Every day, wondering… wondering where you went.”

He stared at me, his lips parting slightly, as though he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. “I—” he stopped himself, his gaze falling to the ground. “I didn’t want to keep waiting, Y/N. I thought… I thought maybe you had moved on, that I was just a memory to you.”

I stepped forward, my heart pounding, every part of me aching to be near him again. “Felix, you were never just a memory. I’ve thought about you every day since I left.”

He looked up at me then, his face softening, a faint glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. “Really?”

I nodded, taking another step closer. “I’m so sorry I disappeared. I had to leave, but I never stopped caring about you. Never stopped thinking about the life we could have had.”

He let out a breath he’d been holding, his lips curling into a small, bittersweet smile. “I should’ve known you’d come back… but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

We stood there for a long moment, just looking at each other, everything between us unsaid but understood. The years had passed, but it felt like nothing had really changed. The pull between us was still there, as strong as ever, and in that instant, I knew that I hadn’t just come back for the town, for my family, or for anything else.

I had come back for him.

Felix set his guitar down gently on the ground, and without a word, he took a step toward me. “I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I never stopped hoping you’d return.”

And this time, I wasn’t leaving. Not without him.

I took a deep breath, the weight of the past year pressing on my chest. Felix’s words had opened a door I thought I’d locked away for good, but now that I was standing here, face-to-face with him again, everything came rushing back.

“I’ve been looking for a house,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “My parents… they’re moving to a bigger, fancier place soon. They’re leaving the town behind for something even more ‘suitable’ for their status, and I… I can’t go with them, Felix.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re leaving your family?”

I nodded, the truth tasting bitter on my tongue. “I don’t have a choice, really. They want me to go, but I can’t. I’ve been looking for a place on my own, somewhere I can start fresh. A place where I can make my own decisions without their expectations hanging over me.”

Felix stepped closer, his eyes softening with understanding, though there was a flicker of concern in his gaze. “But what about everything you’ve known? Your life, your family…?”

I bit my lip, the uncertainty swirling within me. “I’ve spent my whole life living for them, doing what they wanted. But it’s not my life, Felix. I’ve realized that. I don’t want to keep pretending that it is.”

Felix’s expression softened even more, and I could see the mixture of admiration and sadness in his eyes. He reached out, gently taking my hands in his. “I’m not asking you to leave everything behind, Y/N. But if you need to, if you want to do this… I’m here. I’ll help you.”

A lump formed in my throat as his words hit me harder than I expected. Here he was, offering me everything he had—his support, his love, his understanding—when all I had to give him in return was uncertainty and fear of the future.

“I don’t know where this will lead, Felix,” I said quietly. “But I can’t go back to that life. I can’t be who they want me to be anymore.”

Felix’s thumb traced the back of my hand as he held it, his smile small but steady. “Then let’s figure it out together. I know things aren’t easy, but you don’t have to face them alone.”

I blinked back tears, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. The future was still uncertain, still full of questions, but in that moment, with Felix by my side, I knew I was no longer walking it alone.

“So, you’ve been looking for a house?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes. “Maybe we can find one together, huh?”

I smiled softly, the warmth in my chest spreading. “Maybe. But first… I think I need to hear you sing something else. Something that isn’t so heartbreakingly beautiful.”

Felix laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to laugh with him.

It didn’t take long for Felix and me to find our way back to the lake. It was like the world had conspired to bring us to this place again—where everything had started, where time felt like it had stood still. The lake shimmered in the fading light of the sunset, its surface painted with shades of orange and pink, the air cool and refreshing. It was as though the world had paused just for us, granting us this moment of peace.

Felix sat on the edge of the old wooden dock, his guitar resting on his knee, looking out over the water as the last remnants of daylight dipped below the horizon. I sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth of his presence, but not so close that it felt like I was rushing the moment. We had time now. Time to let things unfold at their own pace.

“I used to sing here, you know,” Felix said softly, his eyes distant as if lost in his own thoughts. “Before everything changed. It was just me and this lake. And my guitar. But now… it feels different.”

I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “I know. It’s like everything that’s happened has led us right back here. To this place.”

Felix smiled, a hint of sadness in his expression. “Yeah… I think it’s where I first felt like I could be myself, you know?”

I turned to him, my heart full. “I feel that, too.”

He let out a quiet breath and adjusted his guitar, his fingers resting on the strings. “Well, then… let’s make it our place again. You and me.”

And with that, he began to play, the familiar strumming of his guitar echoing in the stillness. His voice followed soon after, soft but filled with emotion. It was the song that had become his anthem over the past year, the one he’d sung to himself when he felt lost, when he needed to remember who he was.

“Are you lonesome tonight?” he sang, his voice low and rich, the words carrying through the twilight. “Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart?”

The song, filled with longing and quiet sorrow, floated through the air like a whisper, wrapping around us both. I closed my eyes, letting the music wash over me, each note and word feeling like it was written just for us.

Felix’s voice cracked slightly as he reached the bridge of the song, the raw emotion behind it too much to contain. “I never knew that I’d be so lonely… until you left.”

The words lingered in the air, and I could feel the weight of them in my chest, in my heart. Felix had always sung from his soul, but tonight, it was like he was singing directly to me, for me. And as the last notes of the song faded, I felt something in my chest loosen—a tight knot of grief, uncertainty, and longing finally unraveling.

I reached out, resting my hand on his arm. “Felix… I never wanted to be apart from you.”

He stopped playing, his gaze turning toward me, the fading sunlight casting soft shadows across his face. He reached for my hand, his fingers lacing with mine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly at peace.

“Then we don’t have to be anymore,” he whispered, his voice steady, sure. “Not ever again.”

The sun finally dipped below the horizon, the sky now a deep shade of indigo, and the stars began to twinkle above us. Felix and I sat there for a while, just holding hands, listening to the night around us. And I realized then that, no matter what the future held, I had everything I needed right here—this moment, this lake, and Felix by my side.

A few weeks had passed since that evening by the lake, and Felix and I had slipped into a comfortable rhythm. We had become inseparable, the bond we shared deepening with every passing day. We had both found a sense of peace, of direction, that we hadn’t known before, and now, we were on a mission: to find a house.

The town had changed a little over the years, but it still felt like home. As we strolled down the cobblestone streets, Felix was walking beside me, holding the local newspaper in one hand and flipping through the housing listings with the other. His brow furrowed slightly as he scanned the columns, muttering under his breath about the prices and locations.

“So,” I began, my voice light and excited as I walked alongside him, “I’ve been thinking about what kind of house I want. Something small but cozy, you know? A place that feels like it belongs to me.”

Felix glanced over at me, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I think that’s what we’re both looking for. Somewhere we can start fresh, make our own space.”

I nodded enthusiastically, my mind racing with ideas. “I want a house with a big front porch, one with a swing where I can sit and drink coffee in the mornings. Maybe a few rose bushes lining the walkway… something that feels like it’s always been mine.”

Felix chuckled, the sound warm and full of affection. “You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”

“Of course!” I grinned, nudging him lightly with my elbow. “I’ve imagined it for so long. I want it to have a big kitchen, too—somewhere I can bake and cook, and we can sit around the table together. It has to feel like home. You know what I mean?”

“I do,” Felix said, his tone sincere. He glanced back down at the paper, his eyes scanning the listings again. “I like the idea of having a space where we can just be ourselves, where we don’t have to worry about anyone else’s expectations.”

“That’s exactly it,” I agreed. “I don’t want a house that’s just a house. I want it to be ours. A place we can make memories, grow together…”

Felix stopped walking for a moment, pulling my attention away from the paper as I caught his gaze. His eyes were soft, and there was a warmth in them that made my heart flutter.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I’ve never really thought about a house being more than four walls and a roof. But now, with you… I can actually picture it. I can picture us, here, in this town, starting a life together.”

The words hit me like a wave, and I had to take a moment to breathe. There it was—he was talking about a future. A real future. The kind I hadn’t dared to imagine, even after all this time.

Felix cleared his throat, as if suddenly realizing how serious his words had sounded. “But… don’t worry. We’ll find the perfect place, I’m sure of it.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “I don’t need the perfect place. I just need it to be with you.”

He grinned, the same Felix I had fallen in love with all those months ago. “Then we’ll make it perfect, together.”

We continued walking, the rhythm of our steps matching, the sun hanging low in the sky as we passed house after house, each one a possibility. Some were too big, some too small, but with every house we passed, we both knew we were getting closer. It wasn’t just about finding a place to live—it was about finding a place to build our lives together, to lay the foundation for a future that felt like it belonged to us.

As we turned the corner, a little cottage at the edge of town caught my eye. It had a white picket fence, a small garden out front, and a porch swing. The windows were wide, the front door welcoming. It wasn’t perfect, but it was everything I had dreamed of.

“That one,” I said, pointing toward the house with a grin. “That’s the one, Felix. I can already see us there.”

Felix looked at the cottage, then back at me, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “You sure? It’s not even listed.”

“I’m sure,” I said, my heart racing. “It feels like home already.”

He squeezed my hand, his eyes bright with affection. “Then let’s go see if we can make it ours.”

And just like that, the dream we had been building began to take shape, one step at a time.

The day we got the house felt like a dream. It wasn’t just the house itself, but the life that came with it—the one Felix and I were about to create together. The little cottage with the white picket fence, the porch swing, the windows that let in just the right amount of sunlight. It was perfect, in a way I hadn’t imagined. It was ours, and that was all that mattered.

The move was a bit overwhelming, though. Coming from my parents’ grand estate, I didn’t have much to bring with me. Most of the furniture, the fine china, the lavish things I’d grown up with, were all left behind. My parents didn’t see it as a loss, of course. They had their new home, their new life, but I… I wanted to make this place feel like mine, like it was truly ours.

Felix and I spent hours sorting through boxes, laughing at the mismatched things we had—an old lamp I found tucked in the attic of the house, a couch that had seen better days, and the few sentimental items I had brought along: some old books, a picture frame from my childhood. I’d gotten the essentials, but we were still building everything else.

But there was one thing I didn’t mention to Felix. I didn’t tell him how I’d secretly used some of my parents’ funds to make the purchase happen. The house was just under what they could afford to give me, and after everything had fallen apart with my family, I knew it would be easier to buy something without them finding out.

I could’ve felt guilty about it, but in that moment, all I felt was relief. It wasn’t as though I was taking from them—it was my own money, after all. But still, the secret weighed on me. I didn’t want Felix to know. I didn’t want him to feel as though I was using something that should’ve been a gift from my family to us. I wanted us to stand on our own two feet, even if that meant starting small.

As we unpacked the last of the boxes and arranged the furniture, Felix looked around the living room, his eyes lighting up. “It feels like home, Y/N. It really does.” His words were simple, but they hit me in the chest, making everything I’d done worth it.

I smiled softly, trying to push the guilt from my mind. “Yeah, it does. I think it’s because we’re here. Together.”

Felix grinned, his hands reaching for mine. “You know, this place doesn’t need to be perfect. As long as we’re here, that’s all that matters. We’ll make it our own, no matter what.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of those words settle over me, reminding me that what really mattered wasn’t how much we had, but the love we shared. And as we stood there in that little house, I knew—no matter how we got here—it was exactly where we were meant to be.

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lyralu91 · 2 months ago

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Oneshot: James Delaney

hoodeddreams13 asked:

"Hi! I'm not sure if you're requests are still open for James, but I was wondering if I could request something based off the following:

"Did you care?" + "I wanted everything."

From the prompts list: dialogue prompts: three words by @/promptsbytaurie

No pressure and thank you 🖤 (it does not need to be a James × reader fic if you do write it)"

A caring confession

James admits he has feelings for a childhood friend. ❤️ (James Delaney x Fem OC) Warnings: none (just a bit of intimacy and light sexual tension). Dialogue prompts are highlighted in red. Word count: 1951.

“He’s been lying to me this whole time! I cannot believe it!”

She stormed past James, leaving him to hold the front door open with a stiff expression. He stood there, pipe in hand, blinking like he wasn’t particularly pleased to have a visitor.

Saying that, he wasn’t at all surprised to see her.

He closed the door with a grunt and moved his head, far too slow, to follow her march into the front room.

“I just met Clara for a walk and she told me the most awful things about him! Things I refuse to believe! But then there’s this, she brought me this,” she said, half shrugging her coat off, half waving the morning paper at James as he came to stand in the doorway. “Written proof of his bloody lies! Right there for everyone to see.”

About time, James thought but waved it over with an uninterested noise, brows drawn together, puffing on his pipe. He had already guessed what she wished to show him: the announcement of a certain engagement.

Angelica claimed the old armchair by the fire, sighing hard as she sat, then leaned down to undo her boots, only to stop midway to pull off her “bloody hat!”. Her chestnut curls were heavy and wild around her face, her cheeks all rosy from the bitter spring cold.

“I hate hats, I hate gloves, and I hate men,” she said, tugging her gloves off and slapping them on the dusty footstool like she’d given all men in London a collective slap across the face. The poor piece of furniture was then shoved aside, making room for Angelica to kick off her boots, only she pushed it dangerously close to the fire.

“Careful…” James muttered with a cautioning glance from where he was pouring them both a brandy.

Angelica carried on like she couldn’t care less if she set the whole house on fire.

“Clara even said she had ‘had her suspicions’. Can you believe that? All winter she kept it from me. And now he’s off to marry some Louise or Louisa I haven’t even heard of! She should’ve just told me!”

She stood up and nearly knocked the glass from James’ hand as he stood there, calm as ever, offering her a drink.

“And would you have cared?” he asked, composed amusement coming through his deep voice.

“Of course I bloody would - it’s all I’ve cared about for months! - all I’ve been able to think about!”

James watched her drink, nodding like he knew that to be true, while his grunt seemed to say “but that wasn’t what I asked”, then moved to sit on the sofa. He lowered himself with a groan, slurped around the rim of his glass and kept his eyes on her. Leaning back lazily into the seat, he sought her gaze with his head tilted to the side, blinking deliberately as if ready to prove a point.

“And did you care for all the things I told you about this man? Hmm?”

Angelica scoffed from where she stood by the fire, back towards him, cradling her drink in both hands.

“I was there, if you care to remember,” James said, voice lowered in a story teller’s lilt, eyes lit by something wicked and patronising. “On that very night…”

Angelica rolled her eyes at the way he clearly intended to mock her first meeting with Mr Homburg, the handsome Swiss merchant she had fallen in love with.

“Watching you dance… Acting as if you were already - ”

“Yes, James, I remember very well how you stared and sulked and followed me around, behaving like a right -”

“ - yees, like someone who cared for you,” he rasped, like it had been the right thing to do and like he’d happily do it again. “Yes,” he nodded. “I cared. And I tried to tell you. I did.”

This was concluded with another nod and a hefty swig of brandy. It burned its way through his chest and he sucked air through his teeth, lulling his head towards the fire.

He sighed. He seemed tired, but there was something restless in the way he studied the flames, eyes twitching imperceptibly, as if touched by hidden frustration.

For a while he stayed quiet, then said:

“But did you ever care to consider why I was there in the first place?”

Angelica frowned, confused and caught off guard by the question. She knew he hated those parties, of course she did. So what - did he want an apology? Was he trying to make her feel guilty for going?

As if his question wasn’t actually meant to be answered, at least not yet, James continued.

“The things I told you that night, and the things I did, I did because I could not stand the thought of you getting hurt.”

This only deepened her frown and she glanced in his direction, increasingly uncomfortable, as his voice had gone darker and his gaze suddenly felt like a physical hold on her. Like hands on her waist.

Angelica took a steadying sip of brandy. Swallowed hard.

His words almost sounded like a confession.

“Why care for anything that was said or done that night…” she said, quietly into the fire, as if the flames had brought her back to something forbidden or pleasant, or something questionable in between. Something confusing. “None of it matters now anyway.”

“But it does,” James said, sweeping his glass of brandy through the air for emphasis. “Because you’re here, yes? In my house. Caring for a man who does not love you.”

Angelica snorted, knocking back the last of her drink, screwing her eyes shut. It angered her to feel a tear tumble down her cheek. She brushed it off like nothing had happened, turned around to face James and spoke with fragile conviction.

“And what do you know of love?”

She eyed him stiffly up and down, chin raised like a shield of spite, then stomped past him to pour herself another brandy.

James caught her wrist and snatched her down on his lap. He ignored her half-hearted thrashing and the snappy “let go of me!”, holding her in place as he calmly set his glass down next to him, on the sofa.

Sprawled beside him, almost mockingly, was the morning paper. He crumpled it slowly into a composed fist and raised it in front of Angelica’s face, narrowing his eyes like she better listen carefully.

“I know that this… this isn’t love.”

He lowered the paper a little, searched her face for a reaction, then grunted a nod and let it fall to her lap. Angelica didn’t flinch and kept her eyes forward, too stubborn and too startled by the way he held her.

“I also know,” James continued, speaking close to her shoulder, very aware of the rise and fall of her chest, “- that whatever that man did to you… or however he made you feel -” now he loosened the grip on her wrist, thumbing the soft skin over her vulnerable veins, “- was not out of love.”

She could have sworn he glanced at her lips then, and the part of her that felt trapped seconds ago, no longer wished to move away from him.

“Power - and lies…” James whispered theatrically, so raw and soft at the same time, like he was relieved but sorry to tell her the truth about dear Mr Homburg. “That’s all it was, Allie.”

He watched her swallow, chin still raised as she refused to look him in the eyes, but the skin around her collarbones flushed at the use of her childhood nickname.

James kindly lowered her wrist onto her lap and withdrew his hand to lean back into the sofa. With a grunt he clasped his hands high on his chest, as if making a point of keeping them away from her. His eyes however, were locked on her. Unblinking, unwavering. Knowing.

Angelica didn’t move from his lap. Maybe out of spite or stubbornness. Maybe for other reasons.

The sputtering of the fire seemed louder, closer, as if the room had turned into a giant hearth, enveloping them in teasing, flickering heat. James found himself contemplating - no… admiring - her beautiful curls. They suddenly looked softer, heavier, there for him to touch, as they moved up and down with her chest.

His eyes shot to her hands as she scratched the spot on her wrist where he had touched her. James inhaled slowly through his nose and Angelica opened her mouth to say something, and when she spoke, her words were as breathless as she looked.

“Why were you there, James?”

“Hm?” he grunted, deeply absorbed by her fingers, stroking her wrist now rather than scratching.

“Why were you there in the first place? At the party?”

He scowled and made a noise that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to answer. It made her feel like he wanted, and waited, for her to figure it out on her own.

She glanced at him sideways, his gaze flicked up to meet hers, and her neck flared up again.

This time James couldn’t help himself.

Head tilted slightly to the side, he reached out to brush a thick lock over her shoulder, humming a noise of approval when she visibly shuddered at his touch.

“I think you know…” he said, letting his hand ghost along the length of her hair, so very tempted to swirl a lock around his finger.

“James, you -” that’s when his other hand came to rest on her thigh, his palm all warm and heavy.

She closed her eyes and another unexpected tear rolled down her cheek, brimming with anger and relief at the same time. His touch had made her clutch her knees, as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands or needed support to sit up straight.

“You should’ve told me,” she breathed, cursing the way her dress felt restricting with each rise and fall of her chest.

“But I did,” he said candidly, his right hand coming to rest on her upper back, thumbing her shoulder blade as if reminding her of all the years he’d cared for her.

It was a calming gesture that did nothing to calm her, as their eyes met briefly and James began to sit up. Eyeing her chest and neck, he claimed her space, weaving his head like a patient, curious snake in no rush to proceed.

“No,” she said, gripping her knees and looking ahead of her, refusing to acknowledge how close he was and how she wanted him even closer. “It’s not fair, I’ve… I never knew what you wanted. How you felt or -”

“Oh I wanted everything…” he murmured in a dark lilt and slid a soft palm up the back of her neck. “Mhm?” He looked up at her under raised eyebrows, forehead creased as if asking for permission to continue, or to tell her there was no going back after this confession. “With you.”

James thumbed the back of her neck, nodded and added: “I still do.”

Without startling her, he brushed the newspaper off her lap. There was nothing intimidating to the action, only conclusive, like it was no longer of any use and had been sitting there for far too long.

“Why don’t you, put that on the fire, then come back here, and sit with me.”

When Angelica didn’t answer, he pressed his palm against her lower back, urging her to stand up. To make a decision.

As if James had been waiting all this time to say it, he dipped his head towards her ear, so close she could feel his breath, and whispered:

“Go on now. Burn it.”

#fanfiction #my fanfiction #oneshot #request #tom hardy #james delaney #james keziah delaney #taboobbc #taboofx #james delaney x oc #fem oc #friends to lovers

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legok9 · 6 months ago

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Friendship is Universal

Official Doctor Who x Star Trek poster by Dusty Abell

Top: Yasmin Khan, Kira Nerys, Clara Oswald, Spock, Amy Pond, Data, Rose Tyler, La'an Noonien Singh, Sarah Jane Smith, Bill Potts, William Riker, Cleveland Booker, Donna Noble

Middle: Jonathan Archer with Porthos, War Doctor, Eleventh Doctor, Sixth Doctor, the Guardian of Forever, the TARDIS, Fugitive Doctor, Eighth Doctor, First Doctor, Leonard McCoy, Beverly Crusher

Third Doctor with a tribble, Michael Burnham, Kathryn Janeway, James T. Kirk, Thirteenth Doctor, Christopher Pike, Philippa Georgiou, Fifth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Second Doctor, Benjamin Sisko, Twelfth Doctor

Fifteenth Doctor, K9, Jean-Luc Picard, Fourth Doctor

Bottom: Weeping Angel, Wirrn, Goblin, Khan Noonien Singh, Morbius, V5, Gorn, Beep the Meep, Cyberman, Maestro, Locutus of Borg, Vashta Nerada, Robot Yeti, Ood, Sil, Dalek, K1, Zygon, Kruge, Silent, Missy, Dukat, Ruk

The Seventh Doctor, Ninth Doctor, Fourteenth Doctor are conspicuously absent. Also disappointed that Voyager's Doctor didn't make the cut!

Bonus fact: Peter Capaldi auditioned to play Benjamin Sisko. Great to see them side by side.

#doctor who #15th doctor #star trek #classic doctor who #sdcc #star trek tos #star trek tng #star trek ds9 #star trek enterprise #star trek discovery #star trek snw

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hayheadd · 1 year ago

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UPDATED clangen pathologic warrior cats... directed at no one in particular. made in dollmaker called clangen catmaker

Anna, Aspity and Var

Grief, Rubin and Lara

Eva, Yulia and Maria

Aglaya, Block and Simon

Murky, Sticky and Taya

Georgiy, Victor and SImon

Grace (with dirty paws), Khan and Notkin

Saburov, Saburova, Oyun

Andrey and Peter Stamatin

Capella, Vlad jr and Big Vlad are in the first one I'm only allowed 30 images.... anyway.... as a fun little bonus

Medicine cats

Snakeheart (Daniil Dankovsky)

Small tortoiseshell tom with white paws, a red spot on his chest and amber eyes

Bullheart (Artemy Burakh)

Massive fuzzy golden tabby tom with blue eyes

Ratheart / Miracleheart (Clara)

Lanky dilute calico thing with bright yellow eyes

Miracleheart is the name she chose for herself, but everyone calls her Ratheart to mock her instead

Termiteclan

Stickpaw (Sticky)

Lanky golden tom with green eyes

Murkkit (Murky)

Small lykoi she-cat with blue eyes

Knotpaw (Notkin)

Gray tom with brown spots on his nose and ears, a dog collar around his neck and yellow eyes (Resembles Jester)

Soul-and-a-halves are basically the cat distribution system. They find humans for themselves

Sparkpaw (sight) (Capella)

Tall ginger she-cat with blue sparkly eyes

Her mom Daystar (Viktoria Olgimskaya)

Elegant long-furred white she-cat with sparkly yellow eyes

Gracepaw (Grace)

Long-furred white she-cat with tired blue eyes and stuff stuck in her fur

Antkit (Taya Tycheek)

Brown and dark ginger tortoiseshell she-cat with bright yellow eyes

Dogpaw (Khan Kain)

Round small dark gray tabby tom with bright blue eyes

Spireclan

Whispersong (Eva Yan)

Elegant round light yellow she-cat with blue eyes

Newteye (Peter Stamatin)

Cream tom with green eyes

Newtclaw (Andrey Stamatin)

Cream tom with green eyes

Scarletsight (Maria Kaina)

Blueish black she-cat with amber eyes

Her mom Nightstar (Nina Kaina)

Elegant tall long-furred black she-cat with amber eyes

Highstep / Smallspider (Vlad Jr)

Tall dusty gray tom with yellow eyes

Shadowflower (Victor Kain)

Round gray tabby tom with blue eyes

Mistchaser (Georgiy Kain)

Old long-furred silver tom with yellow eyes

Humbleclan

Rockfang (Stakh Rubin) (Rubyfang)

Parcially bald black tom-cat with yellow eyes and fur on his chest, paws and tail

Riverpebble (Lara Ravel) (Gravelpebble)

Long-furred dark gray with black spots, a fuzzy tail and blue eyes

Sleektalon (Bad Grief) (Owl/Filin)

Small ginger tabby tom with green eyes

Robinsong (Anna Angel)

Dark ginger she-cat with yellow eyes

Molesight (Katerina Saburova)

Dusty silver and black she-cat spots with bluish gray eyes

Dustwatcher (Alexander Saburov)

Light brownish-gray tom with greenish gray eyes

Applebird (Yulia Lyuricheva)

Tall golden tabby she-cat with green eyes

Bullface (Foreman Oyun)

Massive brown tabby tom who wears a bull skull and has light blue eyes

Wormleg (Aspity)

Lanky dark brown thing with gray eyes

Other

Thornlily (Aglaya Lilich)

Tall blue she-cat with light green eyes

Ashenstep (Alexander Block)

Dark ginger tom with bright blue eyes and gray paws

Crookedcrouch (Var)

Dark brown crooked tom with one yellow eye and one blind blue eye with a scar over it

Willowblossom (Willow Mellow)

Dark brown she-cat with green eyes

Willowdancer (Nara)

Tall dark blue she-cat with purple eyes

Bigbull (Big Vlad) (I KNOW it's a dumb name but what else is there for Big Vlad.)

Fat ass ginger cat with blue eyes

Mudheart (Isidor Burakh)

Light brown tom with blue eyes

Skystar/Skychaser (Simon Kain)

Old long-furred white tom with blue eyes

The theatre??? I don't know the??? Silentden the??? Whisperden?

Foulplay (Mark Immortell)

Gray spotted tom with green and blue eyes

Ratcather (RATCATCHER)

Black and white (mostly black) she-cat with blue eyes

Birdfaces (Executors)

Face covered with a raven skull, cloak made of red feathers, flowers and leaves with raven bones sticking out. Usually shown sitting down in the performances, so only the front paws are barely visible beneath the cloak

and Silentfaces (Tragedians)

I don't know where they got the masks

Fellow traveller

Dark brown tom with green eyes

Crimsondove (Aysa Klyonina)

Dark ginger she-cat with a big nose and amber eyes

Viperpool (Farkhad)

Black curly-furred tom with amber eyes

general info/context:

They were the same clan but fell apart (Steppeclan)

Spireclan, Termiteclan And Humbleclan

All medicine cats named -heart

Queens are replacement for in-game mistresses, they're not nursing mothers. They're instead like mothers of the whole clan. There are also queen apprentices that can only be of queen blood. They get -sight names until they become full queens (leaders) and get -star.

Moonspire - Polyhedron (the kits call it the playden), Bullplace - Abattoir, Hollowpool - Cathedral

Polyhedron is made of ice that doesn't melt, Abattoir is made of that kinda ancient brown dusty ice that has diseases in it, Cathedral is a bunch of tall sticks and a puddle (melted ice) (fail)

Herb mates are also another cat class only special kin cats can be apprenticed to. They have -dancer names.

The powers that be are Starclan. Aka the giant kids. No idea how that explains them being like a literal government. Maybe everyone is super religious. I mean maybe god is real. Warrior cats

Daniil was a kittypet that lived in a veterinarian clinic

Rubin was unofficially apprenticed by Isidor, never got the -heart name.

The guardian cats are also in this au. A clan full of medicine cats. This is the place where Daniil lived and Artemy studied, but they didn’t know each other (Capital basically)

The Stamatins are former kittypets and den builders that used to live with the guardian cats.

The army is also another faraway clan that is full of warriors that fight by the orders of Starclan whether they like it or not

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billboard-hotties-tourney · 8 months ago

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Okay, folks, the mini-tourney is inching closer to the finals, so I'm going to give a list of the competitors in the Miss Billboard Tourney in order to give everyone a chance to submit more propaganda. The nominees are:

Lale Andersen

Marian Anderson

Signe Toly Anderson

Julie Andrews

LaVerne Andrews

Maxene Andrews

Patty Andrews

Ann-Margret

Joan Armatrading

Dorothy Ashby

Joan Baez

Pearl Bailey

Belle Baker

Josephine Baker

LaVern Baker

Florence Ballard

Brigitte Bardot

Eileen Barton

Fontella Bass

Shirley Bassey

Maggie Bell

Lola Beltran

Ivy Benson

Gladys Bentley

Jane Birkin

Cilla Black

Ronee Blakley

Teresa Brewer

Anne Briggs

Ruth Brown

Joyce Bryant

Vashti Bunyan

Kate Bush

Montserrat Caballe

Maria Callas

Blanche Calloway

Wendy Carlos

Cathy Carr

Raffaella Carra

Diahann Carroll

Karen Carpenter

June Carter Cash

Charo

Cher

Meg Christian

Gigliola Cinquetti

Petula Clark

Merry Clayton

Patsy Cline

Rosemary Clooney

Natalie Cole

Judy Collins

Alice Coltrane

Betty Comden

Barbara Cook

Rita Coolidge

Gal Costa

Ida Cox

Karen Dalton

Marie-Louise Damien

Betty Davis

Jinx Dawson

Doris Day

Blossom Dearie

Kiki Dee

Lucienne Delyle

Sandy Denny

Jackie DeShannon

Gwen Dickey

Marlene Dietrich

Marie-France Dufour

Julie Driscoll

Yvonne Elliman

Cass Elliot

Maureen Evans

Agnetha Faeltskog

Marianne Faithfull

Mimi Farina

Max Feldman

Gracie Fields

Ella Fitzgerald

Roberta Flack

Lita Ford

Connie Francis

Aretha Franklin

France Gall

Judy Garland

Crystal Gayle

Gloria Gaynor

Bobbie Gentry

Astrud Gilberto

Donna Jean Godchaux

Lesley Gore

Eydie Gorme

Margo Guryan

Sheila Guyse

Nina Hagen

Francoise Hardy

Emmylou Harris

Debbie Harry

Annie Haslam

Billie Holiday

Mary Hopkin

Lena Horne

Helen Humes

Betty Hutton

Janis Ian

Mahalia Jackson

Wanda Jackson

Etta James

Joan Jett

Bessie Jones

Etta Jones

Gloria Jones

Grace Jones

Shirley Jones

Tamiko Jones

Janis Joplin

Barbara Keith

Carole King

Eartha Kitt

Chaka Khan

Hildegard Knef

Gladys Knight

Sonja Kristina

Patti Labelle

Cleo Laine

Nicolette Larson

Daliah Lavi

Vicky Leandros

Peggy Lee

Rita Lee

Alis Lesley

Barbara Lewis

Abbey Lincoln

Melba Liston

Julie London

Darlene Love

Lulu

Anni-Frid Lyngstad

Barbara Lynn

Loretta Lynn

Vera Lynn

Siw Malmkvist

Lata Mangeshkar

Linda McCartney

Kate McGarrigle

Christie McVie

Bette Midler

Jean Millington

June Millington

Liza Minnelli

Carmen Miranda

Joni Mitchell

Liz Mitchell

Marion Montgomery

Lee Morse

Nana Mouskouri

Anne Murray

Wenche Myhre

Holly Near

Olivia Newton-John

Stevie Nicks

Nico

Laura Nyro

Virginia O’Brien

Odetta

Yoko Ono

Shirley Owens

Patti Page

Dolly Parton

Freda Payne

Michelle Phillips

Edith Piaf

Ruth Pointer

Leontyne Price

Suzi Quatro

Gertrude Rainey

Bonnie Raitt

Carline Ray

Helen Reddy

Della Reese

Martha Reeves

June Richmond

Jeannie C. Riley

Minnie Riperton

Jean Ritchie

Chita Rivera

Clara Rockmore

Linda Ronstadt

Marianne Rosenberg

Diana Ross

Anna Russell

Melanie Safka

Buffy Sainte-Marie

Samantha Sang

Pattie Santos

Hazel Scott

Doreen Shaffer

Jackie Shane

Marlena Shaw

Sandie Shaw

Dinah Shore

Judee Sill

Carly Simon

Nina Simone

Nancy Sinatra

Siouxsie Sioux

Grace Slick

Bessie Smith

Mamie Smith

Patti Smith

Ethel Smyth

Mercedes Sosa

Ronnie Spector

Dusty Springfield

Mavis Staples

Candi Staton

Barbra Streisand

Poly Styrene

Maxine Sullivan

Donna Summer

Pat Suzuki

Norma Tanega

Tammi Terrell

Sister Rosetta Tharpe

Big Mama Thornton

Mary Travers

Moe Tucker

Tina Turner

Twiggy

Bonnie Tyler

Sylvia Tyson

Sarah Vaughan

Sylvie Vartan

Mariska Veres

Akiko Wada

Claire Waldoff

Jennifer Warnes

Dee Dee Warwick

Dionne Warwick

Dinah Washington

Ethel Waters

Elisabeth Welch

Kitty Wells

Mary Wells

Juliane Werding

Tina Weymouth

Cris Williamson

Ann Wilson

Mary Wilson

Nancy Wilson

Anna Mae Winburn

Syreeta Wright

Tammy Wynette

Nan Wynn

Those in italics have five or more pieces of usable visual, written, or audio propaganda already. If you have any visuals like photos or videos, or if you have something to say in words, submit it to this blog before round one begins on June 25th!

If you don't see a name you submitted here, it's because most or all of their career was as a child/they were too young for the cutoff, their career was almost entirely after 1979, or music was something they only dabbled in and are hardly known for. There are quite a few ladies on the list whose primary career wasn't "recording artist" or "live musician," but released several albums or were in musical theater, so they've been accepted.

#long post #miss billboard tourney #i wasn't originally going to list them all but i decided to do so because there are so many without propaganda

48 notes · View notes

littlespacereader · 11 months ago

Note

Hello again, Clara!!

So, I just read this and this story of your's and I'm physically unable to stop thinking about them..

Since they are both part of the same universe and connect to each other, I have questions and a request!!

The questions:

Does Sam know about Dean's Regression?

And if so, how did he found out & how did he take it?

Did he judge him/ acted weirded out at first, not understanding "what's the point", or did he understand it right away? (Personally I like option one, cuz it's realistic, but it can also be upsetting to read/ write)

Was he already familiar with the concept? Maybe because he regresses himself or had a partner that did?

Does he sometimes take care of little Dean & enjoys to be the "big brother"?

If he regresses himself, do Dean and him have playdates?

Weather he does already know or not, the request stays the same;

Tell us how he finds out & how he reacts!!

Please and thank you!! <3

~ ฅ⁠|°▿▿▿▿°|ฅ

The second part is here!! I apologize for it taking so long but I really wanted to be 100% happy with it and I really am! It’s mostly told from Sam perspective because part 1 was mostly from Dean’s. I hope this chapter answered a bunch of the questions you had listed above! I can’t wait for you to read the second part! Please enjoy! Love you always @dino-boyo-agere (platonicly of course💞)

Protection from Heaven and Hell (Part 2)

Little! Dean Winchester & Caregiver!Castiel, with Little! Sam Winchester & Caregiver! ??

Tags - accidents, pull-ups, diapers, hurt/comfort, Sam is the oldest when regressed, protective older brother Sam, new family dynamic

TW - supernatural typical violence (kidnapping, killing) and mention of demons and ghost, mentions of hell, heaven and ghost

Nickname - Papa for ??, Dadee for Castiel, little moose, squirrel, little boy, ‘ammy, little squirrel.

Click here for Part 1! Other stories in my Supernatural series are: here and here :)

Sam started to wake up in bits and pieces. He blinked and whined. He didn’t want to wake up, he wanted to go back to sleep with his moose stuffie. Why was Papa waking him up? It just wasn’t fair!

But then everything started to hit him, the realization of what had happened. Memories stared to flowed back to him as began to wake up. What happened again?

Dean was distracting the older lady while he slipped away into the back area to see what was going on. There were weird ingredients, strange object and even blood. It has all the makings of a witch’s spot. But scariest of all, they had photos of Dean and Sam. They had been watching and following them.

Sam quickly realized this was a trap. He started to back up and turn to go find Dean when he ran into an older man. “Awww son, are you lost?”

The man blew a sort of dusty into Sam’s face before he had time to react. He cough and cough, then suddenly started regressing like crazy. No! No he couldn’t! He can’t regress now, he needed to get his brother and get out of there.

He pushed past the man but didn’t make it far. He could hear Dean calling for him in the distance but he couldn’t make it to him in time. He fell to the ground, the sound of Dean’s voice falling into the distance. His eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of his stuffie, of his Caregiver…

Sam pushed himself to open his eyes and wake up. Memories of what happened had his heart racing. What happened while they were asleep? What had the witches done to then?

He was in what looked like a basement. One of his wrist chained to the wall and the other was free.

Sam could feel himself still regressed. He felt anxious at the idea of being stuck in his headspace and in danger. He wasn’t thinking like a hunter, he was thinking like a little kid. He was scared of what that meant for him and his brother.

Speaking of his brother, he looked to Dean who laid unconscious across from him. Suddenly he felt felt an overwhelming need to protect his brother.

Dean slept peacefully across the room from Sam. One wrist chained similarly to his own, but with his free hand he had his thumb in his mouth as he slept.

This wasn’t the first time Sam had seen his brother doing this, the first was this morning before he left. He had figured it was just the way he was sleeping. But now…now he didn’t think he knew as much as he thought he did.

He never would’ve thought in a million years that Dean would ever understand his need for regression. It killed him not to tell his older brother who, in many respects, was like a Caregiver to him. But never would he have thought Dean would be a Regressor like himself!

Was it really possible?

He was hit with the same dust that made him regress and faint. And Dean…Dean must’ve been hit by the same thing. He had to be, he just had to!

If he is a Regressor, then Sam is definitely older headspace wise than him, if the thumb in his mouth is anything to go by.

Ha! Who’s the little brother now?

Plus thinking about it, Dean was being weird about his relationship with Cas…WAIT! Could Cas be his Caregiver too?!

The thought brought a small smile to Sam’s face. He wasn’t alone! Plus now he has a second Caregiver now to regress with too! And his Caregiver knows Castiel…but they don’t have the greatest of relationships to one another…

Now thinking about it…he wasn’t sure how good of a reveal it would be for Castiel to see Sam’s Caregiver.

Speaking of him, maybe he could get him and Dean out of this mess. He said only to call upon him if it was an absolute emergency. And it wasn’t an emergency yet…or at least Sam didn’t think it was…

Maybe he could impress Papa and get out of this without his help! Then he would be so proud that he was able to save his brother from the witches while the both of them are regressed!

Sam listened quietly to the sounds of the witches moving about upstairs. What were they planning? What did they want with two hunter?

Okay, okay, first thing first! They have to get out of these chains…somehow.

Sam started to look around the floor for anything he could find to break this lock. The basement was mostly empty. One set of stairs lead to the house, there was a washer and dryer, and there was a light coming from somewhere but it was out of view from him.

While Sam started looking around he heard Dean shift and whine in his sleep before relaxing once again. He lifted his head up and looked to his brother. Maybe he could help!

He was about to yell for Dean to wake up but that’s when he noticed Dean’s jeans getting darker and darker. Oh no.

Memories flashed back to when they were kid. John screaming at Dean about his bed wetting when no doubt he was the cause of it. Dean was always sadly plagued with nightmares which always resulted in wetting the bed. Now, with a regressed Dean, it must’ve came back to him.

Sam shifted himself. He didn’t have to go potty but he couldn’t tell most of the time. Usually he would just be playing and it would hit him out of no where that he would have to go. He really didn’t have control over it.

It happened again last night in the hotel room. Dean wasn’t taking super long but he really couldn’t hold it any longer so he rushed and pushed Dean out of the bathroom. Thankfully he didn’t wet his pants completely but he was close to it, too close.

He called his Caregiver the next day and he suggest going out and getting some pull-up…just incase. It wouldn’t hold a full accident but it would give him enough time to find a bathroom and go to one without fearing an accident. So Sam did, tucking his shirt in and hiding the padding under his suit pants for today case.

Now, in this gross and scary basement, thankfully his padding was still dry. But for how long? His heart started to pick up speed. Maybe Sam’s hero plan wasn’t so good after all. Sam pulled his arms against the chain. He was stuck. There was no way he was getting out of it.

Dean whined again getting Sam’s attention. He stretched his legs out and pulls his hand that was chained…but it didn’t move anywhere.

Suddenly Dean jumped awake, startled by a nightmare. He gasped and tried to catch his breath as tears fell from his eyes. He immediately spotted Sam, his eyes locking onto his. He went to stand up and go over to him when he pulled against his arm, locked to the wall.

He looked at the chain confused, but then he must’ve felt the cold wetness around him. He looked down and just froze. His lip trembling as he stared down at his accident. A sob escaped his lips.

Sam’s heart broke for him. Having had accidents himself, he knew what Dean must’ve been feeling. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay Dean! It’s alright! You didn’t know.” He tried to say.

Dean lifted his red rimmed eyes and shook his head, “It-It isn’t okay! I….I didn’t mean to…It’s not what it looks like Sam! I swear it isn’t!” He started to yell.

Sam right away shushed his brother, both out of fear of being heard and out of genuine worry. “It’s okay! I promise it’s all okay. Just an accident right?”

“Yeah,” Dean said in a voice so small and broken, “They…They must’ve done something to me that did it.” He tried to argue.

Sam was not about to disagree and debate that in this dark and dangerous basement. Right now they needed a plan and they needed to work together.

“Totally, yeah, now listen Dean. I have a plan. The witches are still upstairs which is good for us. We gotta find a way to get out of these chains and out of this basement before they come down here. Now what do you see from your side of the room?”

Dean looked at his brother intently as he explained everything. He looked around but didn’t see much of anything. “There’s a…a bucket…a table…a hook on the wall…a door…”

“The door! Tell me about the door!”

“It has some stairs going up to it, a railing to hold on to. Oh! And it has a window on the door.”

That’s where the light was coming from! “What does it look like through the window?”

“It looks like the outside.”

“Great Dean! That’s going to be our escape door!” Sam smiled. Dean smiled too, happy to be helping.

“Now all we need is to find a way to get out of these chains. Do you see anything around you on the ground that would pick a lock?”

Dean looked around on the ground, but he shook his head after a while. Suddenly upstairs there was a loud bang that made the two jump. Dean looked at Sam worried.

“ ‘ammy?” He asked his brother with the plan.

“It’s okay, I’m sure it’s just-.”

The opposite door swung open and the two witches entered, walking down the stairs to the basement. Both of the Winchesters backed up with their back against the wall, trying to put as much distance between them.

Both of the witches entered the room, big grins on their faces. The two entered the basement wearing outfits straight out of the 1950’s. When they saw the two boys, they gave one big awwwww!

“Good morning my sweet boys.” The woman said with a pleasant chipper voice. “I’m sorry to have to keep you down here all chained up and such. But until we can trust you, this is the way it will have to be.”

“What do you want with us?” Sam said, trying to sound big and brave and not at all worried.

“Son, we just want a family of our own. And you boys are just the perfect two Littles anyone could ask for.” The man explained.

Sam and Dean immediately locked eyes with one another. They both had the same expression. They’re “big” secret reveal to the other. But wait, why was the other one just as shocked? Holy shit.

They share a look of both shock and a small bit of relief. Their “big” secret didn’t feel they big in the moment. But now wasn’t the time to go “HA! I knew it!” Or “You’re a Little too?!” Now was the time to get the hell out of there!

“What? Haven’t you ever heard of adoption?” Now Sam was confused.

“Yeah!” Dean added helping his brother out.

“Of course we have!” The woman snapped back. Sam and Dean jumped to the sudden yelling. The woman right away noticed this and tried to cool herself down again.

“You see, we tried every route to have a perfect family of our own but it just didn’t work. Till finally we came across this beautiful community of people online who regressed into the perfect Little children. Then we thought to ourselves how perfect it would be to find someone like this!” The man began to explain.

“So I created a simple yet effective dust that would cause any person to start regressing. But instead…people started dying. Unfortunately really. Some ended up in the hospital, others like that bickering couple ended up dead. But oh they would’ve been lovely Littles.” The woman recalled.

“We thought our chances were over until we met you boys. Two regressors without even needing a thing of that dust!”

“I spotted you boys in the library. You could barley keep your eyes open as you researched away.” The woman giggled.

“And I followed Sammy here to the grocery store where you bought the pull-ups. Poor boy is old enough to not need a bottle or diapers but not too old enough to out grow accidents. Am I right?” The man said, in a sort of chipper attitude as if he was talking about Sam like he was some little toddler who didn’t know any better.

Tears stung Sam eyes as he tried not to let the confession bother him. “I did not!” He yelled. But he just sounded more Little by the second with a classic response like that.

“Yeah he did not! And we’re not Littles!” Dean yelled after seeing the man upset his brother. Didn’t matter to him whether it was true or not. It only matter that he upset his brother.

“Awwww. I’m sorry dear but I know you boys are. You see, if you weren’t my dust would’ve put you both in comas or six feet under. But instead it worked perfectly. You immediately started to regress then fall into a deep sleep.”

She started to step towards Dean as the man started to step towards Sam. Dean crossed his legs and hoped she couldn’t notice the accident. But sadly that’s exactly what she did.

“See? My dust has been working brilliantly on you boys. Did my poor baby have an accident while he was sleep?”

Dean shook his head as test began to fall from his eyes. “No! No! You did this!”

“Sweet pea my dust only brings out your own regression. You must be so young aren’t you?”

Sam watched as Dean shook his head when she went to wipe his tears away. But he had his own issues. The man kneeled down beside him now and began touching his hair. Sam jumped and tried to push him away with his unchained arm.

“Your hair is much too long for someone as young as you. We’re definitely going to have to cut it.” He said with a stupid 50’s mentality of short hair being best.

Sam shook his head, “No! It’s my hair!” He yelled. But the man just shook his head back at Sam.

Before Sam could yell something else out he felt a sudden warmth. Suddenly his pull-up started to leak, darkening his pants. When did he start going? He didn’t even have to a minute ago?

Now it was Sam’s turn for tears. The man started saying something to him but he just zoned out. Too upset, too Little to really be concerned.

He looked to his brother who was just as miserable and uncomfortable as he was at the moment. They had to get out of there and there was no way they were going to be able to do it regressed. There one only one person Sam wanted more than anyone in this world, one person who could make this right…

“PAPA!!” He yelled, “PAPA HELP!” He cried out.

~~~

There was no wings, no sound as all. But suddenly a man just appeared in the basement with the four of them. Sam looked up as Crowley grabbed the man kneeling in front of him. He stood him up before stabbing him square in the chest.

Dean copied off of Sam when he heard him call out for help, “Cas! Dadee! Help!” Dean cried, lowering his head as fresh tears started to fall.

This time there was a faint sound of wings when Castiel arrived. He grabbed the woman, spun her around and stabbed her with his Angel blade.

With the two witches dead the boys were finally safe, and with their safety came the sudden realization of a few new things.

Castiel took in the scene and marched over to Crowley, putting his Angel blade to his throat, “You did this! You tried to kill them!” After all whose mother was a witch? Crowley’s mom Rowena. It made perfect sense.

But before Crowley could even mutter two words of an explanation Sam screamed out for him. “NO! CAS! HE’S MY PAPA!! Papa! Help! Please!” Sam continued to cry.

Castiel paused for a moment hand still gripped onto Crowley’s jacket collar. He looked from Sam to Crowley before it clicked in. Wait, Sam is a Regressor like his little boy?

Crowley just rolled his eyes, “Can I go see my boy or are you still planning on stabbing me?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Castiel lowered his Angel blade and allowed Crowley to go see Sam, after all he had his own Little to worry about right now anyway. “Grab Sam and I’ll bring us all back to the Bunker.”

“Can I get pass the warding?”

“You should if I bring you.” Cas said matter of fact like usual. Crowley rolled his eyes to the Angel before turning back to Sam.

Crowley was a hard person to hurt, but his heart broke when he saw his Little. Tears streamed down his face, his pant were slightly wet, and his wrist that was chained was red and worn from pulling on it. One hand reached out desperately for him.

“My little moose,” he said with a sigh. He hated seeing his boy so upset. He snapped his fingers and the chain around his wrist disappeared.

“Papa!” Sam couldn’t help the tears that kept flowing down from his eyes. He immediately stood up once freed and hugged his Caregiver tightly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay Sam. I’ve got you, I’m here.” He said as he swayed Sam who was holding onto him for dear life.

They’ve learned over the last couple of months of being Caregiver and Little how Crowley could perfectly hug Sam’s 6’4” self with his Little’s head resting on his shoulder.

“I tried Papa…tried to be big…” Sam lifted his head and used the back of his sleeve to wipe his tears away. “But the witches did something to Dean and I. It made us regress and we can’t…unregress.”

But speaking of his brother…

Sam looked over to see Dean in a similar state to himself. He hid his face in Castiel’s shoulder, holding onto the Angel like his life depended on it.

“That’s alright. I’m sure Cas can undo the spell or whatever they did to you and your brother. If not we can always call Grandma. I’m sure she’d be happy to help her favorite grandchild.” Crowley smirked causing Sam’s spirits to lighten slightly.

“I’m her only grandchild.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not her favorite!”

Sam shook his head and tried to hide the small smile on his face. Papa was so silly sometimes. Even in the worst of situations he always made Sam feel better.

Crowley took Sam hand before walking over Cas and Dean. Dean was holding onto Castiel’s arms. His eyes were casted downward, but occasionally he would look between his brother and Crowley.

“Ready?” Cas asked. Crowley looked to Sam to make sure he was okay before he nodded to Cas.

~~~

In the blink of an eye all four were back in the bunker, safe and sound.

“Cas,” Crowley stopped him. “This isn’t their normal regression. The boys were poison with some sort of dust they made them regress.”

Castiel looked at Crowley confused. His eyes shifted back to Dean who confirmed what he was saying with a silent nod.

“Can’t you do some of your Angel magic and get it out of the boys?”

“I don’t know if it will work but it’s worth a try.”

Castiel places a hand on Dean then on Sam. The boys looked at each other worried before Castiel’s hands started to glow. Suddenly the two started cough and out came the witch’s dust they inhaled.

“There you are, better?” Cas asked Dean who just nodded.

“How do you feel?” Crowley asked Sam.

“I feel…better. Not overwhelmingly regressed anymore but…not too big either.” He sheepishly said.

Crowley hummed as he took in his boy. He definitely needed a change and some comfort before anything else was to be done.

“Cassie? I’m going to take my boy to get change.” Crowley announced making Sam blush.

“Don’t be too long. I want to talk to you about all this.” Cas replied with a glare.

Again Crowley just rolled his eyes before taking Sam hand in his own, “Why don’t you show me to your room?”

Sam nodded and led the way down the halls of the bunker to his room. Crowley had never been in the bunker before this, with the heavy amount of warding and the secrecy. So he was a bit curious to his little ones room.

Sam opened the door and led Crowley into his room. Inside his bag from the hotel had magically appeared (probably thanks to Castiel) along with all his supplies. But other than that you would never guess he was a Regressor at all.

Crowley stood my the door and admired the room. It was a bit plain but then again Sam, like Dean, had been hiding his regression. But now with Dean also being a regressor maybe there was a chance for the both of them to be more open about it now.

Sam didn’t really say a word, he just grabbed a box under his bed and pulled his moose stuffie from inside it. He brought the moose close and just hugged it. With a shuttered breath in and out, he looked up at Crowley with tears in his eyes.

It was as if everything was starting to hit him now that he was back in the safety of his own room with his stuffie and his Papa.

“There, there my little moose. It’s all over now. You’re safe with Papa.”

Crowley crossed the room and sat on his bed. He held Sam’s hand and urged him to sit down beside him. But Sam just shook his head no.

“I wasn’t good Papa.”

“Darling, you were no such thing.”

“No! I was bad! I didn’t save Dean! I had an accident! And I couldn’t even get my hand free. I’m bad. Bad hunter and a bad brother.” Sam cried.

Crowley leaned forward and took one of Sam’s hand into his own. “Sam, I want you to look at me for a moment darling.”

After a moment Sam lifted his tear stained eyes to meet Crowley’s.

“None of this is your fault. You did not plan on getting kidnapped, you did not plan on having an accident and you did not plan on Dean getting involved in all of this either. Everything that happened today was out of your control and isn’t your fault.”

His words started to sink into Sam, who was starting to process it all. After another moment Sam spoke up again, “But…now Dean knows.”

“Yes…but you also know about his regression as well. Which I’ve always saw coming.”

“No you didn’t!”

“Yes I did, clear as day. But the point is, you boy aren’t so different as you think you are from one another. You’re both in the same boat and you both know that boat well. Maybe in some strange way, this was all meant to be.”

Now that, that really started to hit Sam. Maybe it was meant to be. He was so tired of hiding, maybe this was the opportunity for the two to Regress in peace and maybe even regress with one another.

“Now, I say we get you change, have a little cuddle and then go see Cas and Dean. I’m sure Dean is just as worried about you as you are about him.”

Sam nodded and followed as Crowley helped him to the bathroom to get changed. But all that kept playing in his head was what he was going to say to his brother.

~~~

Hand in hand Crowley and Sam walked back to the main part of the bunker. Sam, now I’m a plaid shirt, some pajama pants and another pull up, looked around anxiously for his brother. But when they arrived there was no one around.

“Wow,” Crowley said sarcastically, “So much for hurry up because ‘I want to talk to you about all this!’ ” Crowley said trying to do his best Castiel impression towards the end.

“I do want to talk to you about all this.” Castiel appeared with Dean at his side, now changed into some plaid and pjs as well. “I don’t believe you didn’t have a part in this.”

“Well you’re going to be very shocked.” Crowley said with his usual sarcasm.

Crowley looked to Sam who was fidgeting nervously, “You going to be okay for a minute while I talk to Cas?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah of course. I just…I really want to talk to Dean.”

Crowley looked at Sam unsure but understood that he needed this time with his brother alone, and he respected that.

“Alright,” He patted his back.

Castiel looked to Dean, “If you need me just call okay?” He said to Dean getting a small nod.

After that Castiel and Crowley walked down the hallway of the bunker to go talk, leaving Dean and Sam alone together.

~~~

Sam had it all planned out in his head. He had this long winded speech he was going to say to Dean explaining everything that happened and about his regression and more.

“Dean, so you see-.”

But he didn’t even get more than four words in before his brother crossed the room and hugged him tightly. Sam, for a moment, just froze. The hug was unexpected but not unwelcomed.

Sam wrapped his arms around him and hugged his brother back. For a moment the two just stayed like that, hugging one another tightly.

After a moment Dean spoke up, “I’m so sorry Sammy.”

Sam shook his head, still hugging his brother tightly, “There’s nothing to apologize for. Neither one of us did anything wrong.” He said taking Crowley’s advice.

The two broke apart from their hug, and when they did they weren’t the adult badass hunters they always portrayed themselves to be. In this moment they were just two Littles. Not quite regressed but very vulnerable still.

“Let’s have a seat and talk about all this.” Dean joked, waving his hand in front of the two of them. Sam chuckled and followed his lead, sitting at one of the table across from his brother.

“So…um…when did you start…or I mean when did you-.”

“Right after you left for college.” Dean quickly explained. “I didn’t really have a name for it back then. All I knew was that nothing else but this was helping. No amount of alcohol, sex or anything could calm me down like regression could.”

“Yeah, same here.” Sam nodded among.

“Really?”

“Yeah I started when I was in college. Jess is actually the one who suggested it to me. I regressed with her whenever I was stressed out from finals or whatever. Then after you came back I sort of put regression on hold.”

“Yeah, I’ve been putting it on hold too. I never had anyone to look after me whenever I did regress. But eventually Cas talked to me about it.” Dean’s face started to turn red with a slight blush. “So I regress with him. He’s my Caregiver.” Dean said a bit shy.

“Yeah, I figured.” Sam sat back with a smirk.

“Hey!” Dean laughed back, “What about you? You really regress with Crowley? Really? Crowley?” Dean looked confused.

“Yeah,” now it was Sam’s turn blush. “It’s actually a funny story. You remember when I went on that hunt a while back? You stayed back in the bunker and I went solo.”

“Yeah I remember.”

“It wasn’t a ghost issue, it was a demon issue. Crowley was involved with it which I didn’t know at the time. To make a long story short since I was alone and badly hurt. One of them grabbed me and hit my head against the wall. I saw stars. Just before I passed out I saw Crowley and a separate group of demons start attacking the ones that hurt me. Next thing I know I woke up in hell.”

“In hell?! Why did you tell me about all of this?!!”

“Because I didn’t want you to know about my regression and there was no real way of telling the story without it.” Sam explained.

Before Dean could protest, Sam continued on, “When I woke up in hell I was in some sort of mansion type section. It was Crowley’s home in hell. The only problem? I woke up regressed. Crowley took care of me. He was confused at first but then he sort of figured it out. He wasn’t the way he normal is…he was kinder, gentle. If I wasn’t there I wouldn’t have believed it myself.”

“But the point is,” Sam continued, “I haven’t felt truly safe and comfortable like that in a long time. After I came out of my regression I was angry and shy about the whole thing. But instead of making fun of me or telling everyone about it, he was just as kind as he was to…little me. So I became his Little, going on “solo hunts” which were really just excuse to go and see him and Rowena.”

Dean smiled, “Rowena too?”

“Yeah surprisingly her too. She really like to take care of me. I’m sure she’d love you too.” Sam smiled as well.

“I’m happy for you Sammy. You deserve someone who will take good care of you.”

“Thanks. You deserve that too Dean. After all you need much more care than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean crossed his arms. It was becoming evident that the two weren’t as big was they were a moment prior.

“You’re much younger than me headspace wise. So now I’m the older brother.”

“Nu un!”

“Yeah un!”

“How am I younger than you? You have accidents just like I do!”

“For starters I wear pull-ups. Do you?” Sam asked but Dean didn’t answer, he just turned his head away as a blush creeped onto his face.

“And second of all I don’t suck my thumb. So that makes me the oldest! So…I’ll watch out for you just like you always did for me.”

Dean looked back over to his brother with a hopeful expression, “You don’t have to-.”

“No no no, I want to. I’ve always wanted to but you’ve always looked out for me. Now I get the opportunity to look out for you.” Sam smiled again.

“But also you have to do what I say because I’m the oldest.” Sam quickly said.

Dean rolled his eyes, “That’s not how it works.”

“That’s definitely how it works.”

“What if I don’t listen?”

“Then I’ll tell Castiel.” Sam crossed his arms.

Dean gasped, “You wouldn’t!”

“Try me baby bro.” Sam smirked.

“That’s cruel…even for you.” Dean chuckled.

“So umm…” Dean began to say, “Do you have any toys or a stuffie or…”

“Yeah! Yeah, Papa got me this moose stuffie and it’s my favorite! Mabel goes with me everywhere!” Sam stood up and Dean followed.

“I have a stuffie too! Actually I have two because they’re married dogs. Ones name is Ozzie and the others name is Sharon.”

“That’s so awesome! We gotta introduce them to one another!”

“Yeah! Let’s go!”

And so the two Littles took off down the hallway of the bunker towards their respective rooms.

~~~

“Whether you like it or not it’s the truth Cassie. Promise. Sam is my Little and has been for months now. If I wanted to harm the boy I would’ve had the opportunity to do it plenty of times but I would never. I know this might be a shock to you, but I actually care about him a lot, both regressed and not regressed.”

Castiel nodded his head, finally able to see past the cockiness Crowley usually retained.

“And since your little squirrel is a Little too, that makes us co-parents to the Winchesters.” Crowley smirked. Castiel rolled his eyes.

“How old is Sam’s headspace?” Castiel asked.

“Oh he’s somewhere between…” Crowley started to trail off.

“Somewhere between?” Castiel looked at Crowley confused to why he was trailing off.

“Well he’s older than Dean but not by much,” Crowley started to say but he trailed off again, his mind was elsewhere.

“Listen.”

Castiel paused for a moment and listened but he was silent. “Listen to what?”

“Exactly. Two Littles were talking to one another and now they’re both silent?” Crowley raised an eye brow.

The two sat for a moment and listened to the silence before they both, in unison, jumped up from where they were sitting in the kitchen and rushed to the main part of the bunker to see where their Littles were.

But as they past Dean’s room, Castiel grabbed Crowley’s arm and stopped him in his tracks. Without saying a word the two Caregiver just watched. Both leaning into the room with a big smirk on their faces as they watched Sam and Dean on the floor playing with hot wheel cars together.

There was definitely going to be an adjustment period, not only for the Caregivers but for the Littles too. But, in the end, it’s all worth it. The Winchesters never had a peaceful childhood. But now was their chance to start again.

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taocc-updates · 8 months ago

Text

”Oh, you like Taocc? Name every character.”

BET.

edit: I added the vague number of total characters listed. We’re at about 270, and I’m still adding characters.

(*By technicality

**formerly/no longer active/no longer acknowledged by the narrative as existing

***exist as of like ten seconds ago

I will only be including characters recognized as part of Taocc by more than one person. Characters will be vaguely grouped together however the frick I feel like and with only the vague suggestion of transitions. A character must have a tangible role that still has effects at the time of posting to be counted. I’m not counting all the deactivated characters from OG Taocc, for example. I am referencing the updates blog list as well as my following for this, because the challenge is to name them all, not to name them all by memory. Animals barely count sometimes when I feel like it.)

Gangle, Ragatha**, Pomni**, Kinger**, Zooble**, Caine*, Bubble**, S-Gangle, Shadow, Kaufmo, Sproingle, Unnamed Abtractions*, Easton West, Northa West, Lonn Gitud, Lattia Tudor, Felicia, Caleb, Zachariah Woods, Zombie anon, Simon Mallory/Silhouette/Aleksander, Isaac Brennan/Mix, Elida Doyle, Alice Mallory, Nikolai Harrison/Carbine, Artemis/Kepler, Calamity/Cassandra, Remnant, Sami Harrison, Yelena, Daniel, Artem, Charles/Plague Doctor Anon, Dialtone/Drias, Ilas/Amalgam, Trevor***, Archie***, Abigail***, Stella***, Paisley***, Espresso the Cat, Edward/Pharaoh, Abayomi, Clown Anon, Colorbine, Helpful Anon, Waffle Anon, Sparkler Anon, Kumo, Kopi, Violet, Stitch, Chance, Nightmare, Arthur Pendragon, Verie Pendragon, Mercutio, Juliet/Assassin Anon, Aokigahara, Dunite, Rocky, Rusty, Ryan, Dunite’s Parents, Deedee, Usagi/Usa, Icia/Ice anon, Fred, Odette/Odysseys, Samuel, Mytha, Celio, Basso, Vaga, Nova, Hexe, Slynn, Yume, Yume’s Mother and Father, the Protector, Ramona/Rae, Mirobelle, Ramiro, Achilles, Dime, Aklatan, Latte, Alexander (kingdom edition), Mocha, Switchboard, Ace Zeppelin, Damsel, Levi, Nathan, Myau, Nya, Mynou, Dusk, Jessy, Amelia, Jessy’s mother, Fynn, Joy, Ciana, Apollo, Virgo, Aster, Lance, Raina, Flare, Citrina, Citrina’s sisters (the only named one is “Jade”), Nymn, Nymn’s ex, Fae anon, Clara, Chip, Alpen, Unnamed Zodiac Angels, Kade, Feris, Pixel, Vanessa, Unnamed Arcade Worker 2/Mike, Conny, Shairo (deceased permanently), Hans, “John Smith”, Gun Pirate (lol), Unnamed Drunk Pirate, Unnamed Jar Lady, Unnamed third pirate with a gun, Dalia, Mikey, Anderson, Toga, Abstraction Anon, Quin, Blaze (Squiffer edition)/Zephyr, Skeleton anon, Mage Anon/Tanya, Camara, Avian, Sign Anon/Steven, Origami Anon/Octavia, Tea Anon/Kitsune/Katrina, Simon (Bookend), Seer anon/Sarah, Umbra, Arrows anon, Bow Anon, (Other) Bow Anon, Hex, Sun, Moon*, Sigil, Insanity, Dusty, Lantern/Eternal Flame, Eternity, Darkis, Infinity, Entity, Ember, Unknown, Juko, Lilo, Bob, Hammer, Mallet, Fox anon, Teleporting anon, Nuffle, Pyxel, Thanatos, Tiger, Siam, Sabrina (Sun’s daughter), Taika, Sisu, Quest, Tip, Stranger, Radio, Shelly, Astrion, Gaia, Aella, Electricity anon, Conspiracy anon, Bap Anon, Eve.chr, Phoenix*, The Dragon of Abyss, The Dragoness of Sky, Lemonade/Lewis, Reverie/Guidance anon, Unnamed Autumn Season, Unnamed Winter Season, Neb, Cardlan, Minimi, Entity (Backrooms edition), Casper, Manna, Pamela, Eden*, Grif, Trudy, Pen, Paper, Sophronius, Acacius, Milo, Drunk anon (deceased), Scissors anon, Thief Anon, Void anon, Cupcake anon, Chaos Enjoyer Anon, Thyme, Angst anon, villain anon, “Lucy”, Simp anon, Comax, Pickle gifter anon, pickle stealer anon, fish anon, deus ex machinanon, mail anon, foundation anon, lost anon, dropkick anon, Bug anon, Paranoia Anon, Rocket launcher anon, Kyubey, Mimic, Rodger, Ludvic, sunshine anon, anger anon, Frazzle, Wade, Loyal anon, Loyal Servant anon, the cookie run cookies lol, Felicia (top hat edition), Tophat, Greenie, Red(?), The Polygon Bees (TM), Eepy anon, Ethan, Dark, Void/Ollie, DJ, Star, Mercury/Marcus, Elysia/Evangeline Elizabeth Ambrosia, Blaze (Planetquest edition)/Brandon, Jasper, Callista/Leilani, Ursula, Ari, Lumiel/Lark, uhhh…I think that’s it

did I do it do I freaking win

Someone please count how many characters there are (there should be one comma per character if that helps)

Edit: Nevermind, I did it for you.

This is a vague number, the actual number is higher than this, maybe about 270-300

#the moth speaks #The moth rambles #BET.#WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF

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quietwingsinthesky · 8 months ago

Note

wait actually can i also have clara/war. i think that would fix them

clara/war is inspired actually 😵‍💫😵‍💫 let’s see if i can do them justice

Clara loves her Doctor—don’t tell him that—and the other young Doctor is charming—definitely don’t tell him that—but her eyes keep falling back to the war-weary man who lingers behind them. He walks like he weighs more than he possibly could, like the ground should shake beneath his feet but all he does is leave dusty footprints over the floors.

He’s a secret. Clara can’t possibly keep away from him. Greedy, she wants all of the Doctor to herself. She deserves it, earned it, died for him. Even for this one, though the memories of that are even dimmer than the rest of her thousand deaths. Those are all tucked into the back of her mind as some form of protection for herself, but she thinks he is hidden away to protect the Doctor only.

“Is he always like that?” he asks. Clara follows his gaze to her Doctor, who catches her eye and grins like mad, sure to be about to show something off.

“A hyperactive puppy? Yeah, pretty much.” She thinks of suns that devour stories and repeats herself. “Pretty much.” She turns back to him, curious. “Not you?”

“I might have been, once,” he sighs a long-lost possibility.

“I don’t know. You still keep up. You put them in their place well enough,” she lists. “You fail to see the obvious.” That actually gets a self-deprecating chuckle out of him. Clara finds victory in it and dares a little more. “You seem like the Doctor to me.”

“Then maybe I really will be again.” He doesn’t sound like he believes it, even as the evidence bickers with himself in front of his eyes. Clara reaches out to touch his hand. He stiffens, but he doesn’t stop her as she pulls it away from him, turns it over, and laces her fingers between his.

#ask #prompt fic #fanfiction #doctor who #the war doctor #clara oswald #clarawar #sunday prompts

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kaidynsarell · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 8- Of Clock Doors and Paper Cranes

📜🍂📜🍂📜🍂📜🍂📜🍂📜🍂📜🍂📜🍂📜

Pairings-Sebastian Sallow x Female OC

Rating- This story is rated overall 🔞(Ch 8 is SFW)

Tags-Angst, Pureblood Politics

The full chapter can be found below the cut(4.5k words)

Ongoing Fic

Chapters 1-11 can be found on WP and AO3

Monday, 12 September, 1892

There was a quiet sort of social seclusion the library offered. A warmth found tucked between the pages of books and curled amid the peaceful sounds of shuffled robes and rustled pages. In the smell of quill ink and aged parchment. In the hummed murmur of whispered voices. The unspoken understanding of the need for companionship without the necessity of conversation.

Clara could have returned to the common room for her break after Potions. Usually, she would have. It was closer. Instead, she'd climbed from the dungeons and found herself trading shades of emerald and rippling light for dusty browns and beiges and tucked herself into one of the reading nooks on the lower levels, her books and parchment spread out in a wide arc on the aged wooden desk.

Her second-hand copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration was so battered the cover was held on only with glue and bits of spellotape. Even her muttered reparo had done little to fix the damage. There were only so many times a thing could be broken before the spell was rendered useless. Until it needed to be patched with stitches and tape, and its scars would forever remain on display.

The assigned reading was dull at best. Her mind slogging through a chapter on Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. An increasingly tedious subject made worse with each of its theories, arguments, and exceptions. Still, she was trying to read it. If one could call it that when she'd hardly focused enough to comprehend a single paragraph, and the image of freckles and messy cinnamon curls kept forcing their way to the surface.

><><><><

She only offered a muttered acknowledgment when the tell-tale pulse of Ominis's wand sent crimson light scattering over the aged browns and beiges. He pulled back the chair beside her and, as always, sat with the effortless poise of an aristocrat. He dug in his satchel momentarily, pulling not a book but a small stack of brightly colored, perfectly squared parchments. Each one was so thin she could see the shadow of his hand on the other side.

She watched for several minutes--all attempts to read temporarily abandoned-- as Ominis began to feel and fold along the edges with a meticulous, almost mathematical precision. Each edge perfectly straight. Every corner aligned with careful accuracy. Folded and flipped, tucked and folded again. Over and over until he took the two narrow folded points at the top, pulled them outward and down, and the unassuming square emerged as an elegant paper crane.

He could have done it with magic. She knew, but he'd insisted on folding them by hand as long as she'd known him. Cranes, flowers, foxes. Any number of flora and fauna. Each folded with the same fastidious care as the last.

He slid another sheet of parchment from the pile and tipped his head toward her. "Give it up, Clara dear. We both know you're not doing homework."

" I am." She snapped her eyes back to the book. To the same page, she'd already read five times over and couldn't remember a single word of, as though that might absolve her. "I'm reading."

"Please. I've been here twenty minutes, and I've not heard you turn a single page. I know you do not read that slowly." He made another fold and flipped the paper over to feel for the crease.

His blindness did nothing to deter her from glaring at the side of his head. "Fine, I'm avoiding Sebastian."

It wasn't entirely a lie.

She had managed to avoid him through Charms and Potions, both of which she shared with the twins. However, she suspected it may have as much to do with his sudden irritation over his new classes as her attempts to position herself away from him.

Even so, she had caught him glancing at her from across the classrooms. Stolen moments. Blue eyes meeting brown beneath dark lashes. The corner of his mouth pulled between his teeth in that way, which meant he was thinking too hard about something before one of them would inevitably look away. Too often, and her first break in classes hadn't come soon enough.

"Clara, please do not try to tell me you are actually trying to hide from Sebastian Sallow in a library. Merlin, you may as well stick yourself in the restricted section. He'll never look for you there." The sarcasm dripped so heavily that Clara almost expected the words to grow eyes of their own and roll themselves at her.

"Was it your Aunt who taught you how to make those?" She flicked her finger at the exposed edge of the folded paper still tucked under his fingers.

It was too obvious a sidestep, and the blond exhaled slowly, lips pulled into a flat, straight line, before he finally gave a resigned sigh, " No, it wasn't, Noctua."

Not the response she'd expected, " Then who...."

" You do realize you cannot avoid him forever."

"It's a large castle. I think I can manage." She'd make it her own personal mission if she had to, and

her stubborn begged control. Twisted its fingers to grasp at the places violet petals had left their imprints. "He's been here for months Omi. Months and he never told us."

" I am well aware. But quite frankly, Clara, all three of you have been hiding things, and I've grown rather tired of it."

"I--"

"Did you not consider that I might be worried about him as well?"

It was the pull at his usual staccatoed cadence. The strain of weariness seeped between the letters that saw her abandon her scrambled attempts at defense.

"Right." She sighed. "I know." The 'sorry' refused to pull itself from her throat, and she cast around for some other distraction. "What are you doing here, then, if you're not avoiding him as well?"

"I'm not avoiding, but Sebastian still has yet to fully unpack his belongings. I've no desire to attempt to navigate whatever mess he's made of our dorm, and Anne is currently in Care of Magical Creatures.

" Speaking of Anne" Clara ventured, "She didn't appear particularly pleased about that letter you received this morning. Whatever it was." It felt like dangerous territory with how his face tightened at the mention of it. Still, her curiosity plowed on. Too pleased to have found some other topic to ease the lingering taste of guilt that stuck to the roof of her mouth and refused to be scraped away.

" No, I rather think she wouldn't be.--" Even with his precise enunciation, the blond's voice was so quiet she had to lean in to discern one syllable from the next. His fingers pressed against the edge of folded paper. Flattened it to a sharp crease. He was stressed. More than he was trying to let on, given the way his fingers pushed hard enough to bruise over the edge of the paper. "-Recently, my father has seen fit to remind me of my duty to our family's legacy and the continuation of the Gaunt line. As I have thus far failed to procure a worthy consort for marriage, I have been informed one will be arranged for me."

She was used to his haughty irritation. The sarcasm and quick quips of a boy raised in a society where an insult hid behind every polite nicety. Where war was waged over dinner parties and woven into legislature. Where every Ball was masquerade, whether it was advertised as one or not.

Clara was even used to the hurt and fear that had too often lived behind it and had begged her assistance to keep Sebastian from what he had feared was inevitable destruction. She was used to fear. She was used to hurt. She was not used to the heaviness she felt around him now. It was cold and thick and dark, its edges sharp and honed to razors.

A glimpse of the Gaunt he so often suppressed and any fear that hid there now was so blanketed by the depth of his anger she could barely make out the imprints of where it still lingered--huddled and shivering.

"Surely they are aware you and Anne have courted for nearly a year. Why only begin to insist on arranging another match for you now?"

"At best, they've tolerated our involvement, and I have ignored their increasing encouragement to find someone more suitable." Another fold and Omini's fingers shook as they pressed against the crease. It was near uncanny the way he could continue to fold the parchment. Each line and fold as precise and bruising as the last. More precise, even with the heaviness that surrounded him. "It almost seemed to amuse my father for a time, and I had hoped, perhaps naively, that they would simply let us alone. But it seems whatever tolerance they had for the relationship when Anne was ....."

Dying.

He'd trailed off, but Clara hardly needed to see the way he'd bit down on his lower lip to know that was the word he couldn't say. That none of them could say. As though to dissent in speaking of it directly. In avoiding eye contact. They might have somehow staved off the inevitable. The strongest of wards woven within their refusal of acknowledgment. And now her health had returned, their refusal lay in the fear that to speak of it would somehow allow death's fingers to find their home at her throat once more.

"--Now that Professor Black has done the courtesy of informing them of Anne's renewed health and her return to school, their encouragement to end the relationship has become a demand." He scoffed. A little laugh that carried no humor. Something hissed and bitter. "She's not even been well for a week, and they've already--"

"But you're both of age." It sounded petulant even to her, but owing to the blond's far from subtle aversion to the rest of his family, she had assumed he would simply leave it all behind. Now, suddenly, the whole notion felt ludicrous. The Gaunts did not wed their sons to half-blood daughters. To think they would allow otherwise only emphasized the naivety of a girl not raised in high society. Still, her protests continued unhindered, her lips working furiously to outrun what her mind had already concluded. "Surely, they cannot force you."

The small, sad smile only confirmed what she already feared. "It is not that simple, I'm afraid." He sighed and stood before she could press further, shuffling the papers back into his satchel with a flick of his wand. "Anyway, you've no need to worry about hiding from Sebastian. At least not for the moment."

Ominis's turn to sidestep and Clara jerked her head back just as he pulled the satchel to his shoulder. "What?"

"I told him I'd meet him in the Undercroft before Arithmancy. I expect he's there now. "

"Oh?"

If Ominis was aware of the implied question in the inflection of her tone, he feigned ignorance, and her curiosity beat its fists against the stubborn that refused to ask why.

Instead, he set the now-finished paper crane on the desk near her still-open book and muttered something about finding her in Arithmancy later.

She caught his sleeve just as he turned. "Omi, what are you and Anne going to do?"

He just shook his head, and fear peeked out from where it had tangled with hurt and stress and huddled beneath his anger. "I do not know, but I will not have her harmed."

"You think they would try to hurt her?"

She barely needed to see the way his face tightened, so reminiscent of that morning, to know the answer. Given his history with them, it should have been obvious, but it still wrapped tendrils of ice along her spine.

"They've done worse for less."

He left without another word. On the cusp of having his heart shattered, not by death, but by the society that still bound him.

><><><><

Instead, she took to pulling at the tail of the paper crane. The movement shifted the head and wings, and for a moment, she could imagine it was flying. Out and away. Icarus leaping from the tower. Paper wings beating furiously as the little bird made its escape. But unlike the boy whose wings had been doomed to fail as he threw caution to the wayside and climbed towards the sun's light, this little bird's wings would see it safely through the bookshelves, up the stairs, and out to the courtyard. Soaring up play amongst soft breezes. All need for caution was discarded as it danced along the beams of golden sunshine.

But her envy was caustic and resentful, and it glowered at the little paper bird. The stupid little bird that did not carry the weight of scarlet on its wings, whose mind did not echo with screams when it was allowed to grow too quiet. The little bird that had not been left behind by the parents she'd never known, by the mentors she'd failed to save, even by Sebastian, who'd vanished without a word.

By the Keepers who'd deserted their frames and shut her out since she'd returned from the Repository. Left her stranded with an ancient power, their Trials had done little to help her control or understand. It was a power that had forged destruction with her hands. Painted canvases in shades of ruby and garnet and witnessed the fractures in her soul. A power that had stopped a rebellion and crowned her the 'Hero of Hogwarts' and yet left her utterly powerless in every way that truly mattered to her.

She couldn't use Ancient Magic to save her grandmother or Professor Fig. It had been useless to take Anne's curse or stop Sebastian from leaving, and now, short of murdering the rest of the Gaunts, she found herself powerless again.

If the Keepers could have offered any further assistance, their perpetually empty frames had made their intentions toward any additional education with her Ancient Magic abundantly clear, and she'd long since given up returning to the Map Chamber to ask for help.

"Miss Elmore."

Clara jumped at the sudden noise. Snapped away from her reverie. The wing of the little paper crane tore with the movement, and the little bird toppled from her fingers. Sprawled out against the desk, its bid for freedom failed. Perhaps it had flown too close to the sun after all.

Professor Sharp was leaned on a cane clutched in one hand. The other wrapped around two books, the outer of which had a faded set of runic symbols on the cover she didn't recognize. Considering the exasperated tone and the considerable arch of his eyebrows, he'd been attempting to gain her attention for a length of time she was too embarrassed to think of.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I asked if you would please deliver a message to Mr. Sallow for me? believe you two share Arithmancy this afternoon. I was just about to be on my way to send an owl, but I am in no mood to traverse up to the Owlry, and if I've learned anything with teaching, it's that students will often spread messages far faster than anything with wings.

Clara blinked and straightened, trying not to contemplate how long he'd stood there watching her glare at that paper crane. "Oh, sure. I mean, yes, sir."

She was not naive enough to think his phrasing it as a question was anything more than courtesy. Refusal would be a surefire way to lose house points or earn a detention. Neither of which she fancied. Nevertheless, she found she didn't mind the request.

Professor Sharp was one of the few who still looked at her like she was a person—not some burdened hero with a glorious power or a frail, broken thing that might shatter at the sight of a strong wind. Perhaps it was owed to the time he'd spent as an Auror, but neither pity nor reverence held any purchase in his gaze, and unlike so many others, she found his one of the easier to maintain.

He shifted his weight against the cane "Very well. If you'd kindly inform Mr. Sallow, he will be needed in my office directly after the end of today's lessons."

"Do you need Anne as well?"

The potions master just shook his head. "No, just Mr. Sallow will be fine."

><><><><

Clara could have waited until Arithmancy to talk with him. She should have waited, and she cursed the traitorous feet that clipped her boots through the corridors to that worn wooden door in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, with its clocks, stars and faded runes.

They'd hardly approached the space since Sebastian had left, and still, there was a warm familiarity in the twist of her wand and the whirring clicking of the gears.

It was only the sound of voices—raised and angry—beyond the closed door of the liftgate as she reached the bottom that halted her fingers within the cramped and dusty space. The movement of the lift had been loud. It always was. Even within the Undercroft, they could always hear its clamor. The idea of sneaking up on anyone already there had long since been abandoned, but the voices hadn't faltered even slightly as she'd heard the jarring clang that marked the end of her descent.

".......Really Sebastian! I thought I'd made my opinion on that matter perfectly clear. What in Merlin's name would suddenly make you think I would agree with you?"

Clara curled her fingers around the edges of the handle. She hardly needed to lean closer to hear that low, frustrated groan she knew too well—the indication the argument had been going far too long, and still, she tipped her head forward.

" We've been over this. Anne was dying. I didn't have another choice!"

There was a sharp tap. Perhaps the rap of knuckles on wood, though Clara couldn't be sure, from behind the closed door.

"There is always another choice!" Ominis again. The usual clip of his tone was abandoned. Stretched to breaking and lost amid the stone pillars. " But every single time, you chose to throw yourself down that path. All those books on the Dark Arts you thought you were clever at hiding, The Scriptorium, That damned Relic! Again and again- "

"I did what I had to do. I don't regret it."

"I am all too aware! And that's just the problem, isn't it. Sebastian, you do realize if anyone found out what you had done, you would be in Azkaban."

There was a sudden crash, and this time, there was no mistaking the slam of a fist against the table. Clara jumped, knocking her elbow into the wall. Loud enough to ricochet around the small lift and out into the Undercroft, though if either Sebastian or Ominis had heard, neither gave any acknowledgment.

"You think I don't fucking know that!" If Sebastian hadn't been shouting before, he was now. "You think I don't know exactly what the consequences of my actions are!"

"Do you? Because sometimes I'm really not sure you do!"

"It wasn't something I did lightly, Ominis! But it's done." The shout had faltered so quickly that she almost missed the little catch in his voice before it settled to something weary and resigned. "I can't take it back, and I'm done apologizing to you for it."

" You know I should say something."

Clara pressed herself closer to the door. She felt the sharp corners bite into her skin as she clenched her fingers around the edge of the handle. She'd thought they'd all been in agreement: she, Anne, and Ominis. Sebastian's actions were reckless, devastating even. But she'd assumed when Ominis had brushed at the idea of turning him in; it had been no more than a shadow of a consideration. A fleeting, fearful creature brought to light in a moment of desperation.

"You won't."

If there had been a bluff, Sebastian had called him on it. They were brothers, after all.

" No," Ominis sighed, "I won't. But for her sake, not for yours, and really, Sebastian, you should do it yourself."

Only the quick clip of footsteps alerted Clara to Ominis's approach, and she just managed to pull the lift door open and step out before the blond brushed her. He only nodded briefly in her direction, Sebastian close on his heels, before Ominis stepped beyond the liftgate, and they heard the clamor of its ascent.

Sebastian froze mid-step "Clara?"

It was odd how suddenly the vastness of the room could shrink around them. How the world could disappear entirely, and each breath could count a lifetime.

Why hadn't she waited until arithmancy?

"Professor Sharp wants to see you in his office after lessons." The words spilled so quickly from her that she couldn't be certain he'd even understood before she bolted for the lift and wrenched the gate open.

"Ara, wait— "

But she'd already stepped into the cramped space. Almost in time to shut the door, when Sebastian's hand closed around her arm, and he stepped in across from her just as the door clanged shut behind them. His touch wasn't firm. Light enough, she could've pulled away with little effort but enough to notice the warmth that melted from where his hand still lingered against her bicep, spread across her shoulder, and trailed up the side of her throat.

He had always been warm. Hot really. Even in winter.

The lift jerked and rattled. Not used to elevating more than one person at a time.

"—Can we talk?"

She couldn't explain even to herself why the request boiled inside her veins. Curled around that simmering hot coil and ignited her anger. Even so, she made no move to pull herself away from him. Not that she had that far to move within the lift. They were both already backed against opposite walls.

"You left us, Sebastian." Left her. " Without saying anything. You've been back here for months and never told us. You don't get to show up after a year and suddenly decide on your whim I'm worth speaking to!"

"I know." His other hand pulled down his face. Voice clenched at the corners. " I just...I thought maybe—"

"How many times did I ask you where you were? Do you know how many times I—"

"You think I enjoyed it? Being alone all that time. Cutting myself off from every single person I care about!" He barely needed to raise his voice for it to echo above the whir and rattle of the lift. The fire was still raw within him, only tempered to embers after the argument with Ominis, and it flared again. Flames to match her own in this fractious dance they'd found themselves in. " I didn't have a choice!"

"You chose it! Nobody told you to—"

"It wasn't because I wanted to! Anne wanted nothing to do with me. Neither did Ominis. He's better at hiding it, but I know him well enough to know when he's putting on a facade and-

"And what about me, Sebastian?" That hot coil had flared to inferno, a blazing wildfire that crackled up her throat and abandoned all attempts to regulate any semblance of appropriate volume. "I would have gone with you! You know I woul-"

"Exactly, Clara! Anne was dying. I couldn't stop even if it destroyed me, and you'd already torn yourself apart trying to help. You almost died in that Repository with Ranrock because you'd already depleted your magical energy in that damned catacomb. You were unconscious for weeks! They didn't even know if you'd wake up and–" She almost missed how his voice faltered at the end. Caught at the edge and toppled off the precipice.

"Seb, that wasn't–"

That hadn't been his fault.

"I'd already asked too much of you. I couldn't keep dragging you down with me."

There was some part of her—a part she shoved below her anger that could almost see the logic in his madness, however flawed. The hastily pieced-together plan of the boy who'd lost everything in one fell swoop. Watched his hope flare to destruction between his burned and blacked fingers and leapt at a desperate attempt to salvage the crumbling pieces. Even if it meant leaving everything behind. It was that part of her that peeked out from below the flames and trailed up to that warmth melting around her bicep. The part of her that led her feet to the undercroft to find him. That traced her fingers along that enchanted parchment in her pocket and pretended not to wait for him to write again. That part of her that looked for him in every room.

That traitorous part of her soul that, even now, would follow him to the end of the earth if he'd asked.

"Do you think we'll ever get past this?" His voice was so soft she almost couldn't hear him over the noise of the lift—barely a tremble above a whisper.

As though he didn't already know the answer better than she did.

It was strange how suddenly she became acutely aware of how close he was to her. Close enough she almost had to crane her neck back to look at him as he tipped down to meet her. So close she could see the little spots where the skin on his nose had started to peel from sunburn, and once again, he'd pulled the corner of his lip to worry it between his teeth. The darkness over his eyes shifted and softened, and she could almost see the swirls of pine melting from his pupils.

How easy it would be to let go, to lean forward and let her head rest against his chest. She wondered then if his arms would wrap around her if she did. If his fingers would curl into her hair and massage the base of her neck the way they had so many nights in 5th year.

"Sebastian, I-" She didn't even know how to finish—caught between anger and tears and violet petals pressed between heartbeats that begged her stubborn surrender.

But then the lift jolted violently as it reached the top, and Sebastian shifted back against the wall. His jaw tightened ever so slightly. Those dark, impenetrable walls slammed down behind his irises, just as cold and unrecognizable as ever, and Clara pulled herself from his touch.

"I've got class. I just came to give you that message from Sharp."

She didn't. The bell wouldn't ring for another thirty minutes.

They both knew it.

But Sebastian made no move to stop her when she stepped out of the lift and disappeared down the hall.

><><><><

That night, her dreams were

Pale fingers that dripped garnet against trembling blades of grass.

Choked screams. Terrified and pleading.

Golden light speckled through the rustling leaves of a hawthorn.

Swirls of emerald haze and terror wove ice through veins below puppeted digits.

The crunch of bone and crimson splattered against worn wooden floorboards.

Bright white and a darkness that crushed against her ribs, squeezed and she couldn't draw breath.

A flash of glistening hazel.

"It's okay, Sweetheart."

She woke with a start, pressed the scream into her pillow, and the next night saw her swallow a third vial of Dreamless Sleep Draught.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy ominis #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #thanks to the girly on discord for the sceenshot for me

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