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pythonmoth · 2 days ago

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cw: anxiety. post-traumatic stress disorder (torture). reader is traumatized. reader is a bit unreliable. military inaccuracies. hurt/comfort (I guess?).

simon riley x f!reader. implied simon riley x soap. implied simon riley x f!reader x soap.

First | Last | Next

Being home is incredibly boring, especially if you can't move much.

Your brother's been taking care of you, making sure you're eating, that you let your injuries breathe, and soon enough, the cuts on your feet allow you to move around on your own. It takes a whole month for your brother to leave you alone for longer than a few hours. It's a good thing, really, because if you want to spend hours just laying in your bed and crying in silence as you stare at the ceiling, you can. He would only come whenever you needed a ride, anyway.

Despite being able to move around and now even managing to use your sensitive fingers, you dread the idea of going outside. You have to wear sandals and loose pants, because your toes cannot, by any means, be touched by any kind of fabric yet, or else you're grimacing in pain. Feeling defenseless hasn't been a thing ever since you became part of the team. Not even your skills could take down Simon, but you could put up a fight with them all, easily; never won, but you were confident with anyone else on the street.

No doubt you could still beat them up, your skills are still there, but the idea of someone somehow restricting your movements felt like torture all over again. The idea of anyone getting a hold of you makes you want to throw up. Your mind and body betray you, making you remember those awful moments, and you don't realize you're pulling a face.

"You're spacing out".

You look up at the therapist, giving her a little nod as an apology, getting comfortable on the seat. Restless, you can't help but look around for a moment again. The office is incredibly white, clean, filled with mirrors for whatever fucked up reason, and the only thing that isn't grey or white is one of the cushions on the couch on the other side of the room. It's deep purple. It looks awful.

Seemingly realizing you won't be of much help with the question she just asked you, she gives you a smile. "How are your nails? I can see you're using your hands a lot more".

"They're healing" you reply, looking down at your fingers instead of focusing on the cushion. "I can use my hands pretty normally now, but I can't use the stove for long".

"Because of the heat". An affirmation. You've already mention it before, and you're not surprised she remembers that. Probably read it on her notes.

"It hurts, yeah".

"And how are your feet?" she asks, looking down at the way you absentmindedly drag your hands on your pants from your thighs to your calves in slow movements. You only realize what you're doing because you can hear the way her pen drags across the paper, distracting you.

"Well... I can only wear sandals. Doctor said I should be okay to move around with real shoes in three months".

"And what do you think?"

"He's the doctor. I want to believe he knows what he's doing, so I can't really question it. I do hope it heals sooner, though".

The therapist writes down on her notebook. With an uncomfortable feeling, you desperately want to know what she's writing, your eyes drifting to the movement of the pen, but you can't make out a single letter.

"So you trust the doctor, right?" she questions, moving one of her erasers to the other side of her desk. Your eyes are fixed entirely on it, on the little thud the eraser makes when she sets it down.

"He knows best, that's for sure. If he's there, must be a reason" you answer, tilting your head as she keeps moving her things around, making them fit somewhere else on her desk. The pencil goes to the left, then to the right, the eraser from top to bottom of the notebook, as if she's as antsy as you are.

"Do you apply that thought somewhere else? Like... at work? Or if you need help at a store and find an employee, maybe?"

The therapist's eyes are on you all the time, your hands, your anxious feet; your little habits coming to light with a single look. The way you bite the inside of your lower lip, the little double blink you make when she moves something in her desk yet again, even if you don't say anything.

"Of course. If they know their way around, it's only right that I ask for help, and trust that" you answer, frowning. You don't think that question is relevant at all, but she keeps writing, and writing.

"I see. Thank you. Now, you mentioned you've been texting G- Simon. Can you tell me how it makes you feel?"

You go silent for a moment, your fingertips dragging across your arm, so softly you can barely feel it. "It's better now".

During the first three months of being home, Simon would text you nearly every single day. He didn't expect a text back and you knew that, because you told him you wouldn't promise to be responsive. Simon would send you pictures of their plain meals, of Gaz sleeping on your bed, Johnny posing next to Price with their thumbs up, or terrible selfies of himself. Always without a mask.

Tuesday

11:27

"Price scolded Johnny because he had crumbs on his uniform. It was hilarious"

Saturday

03:26

"Just got back. Everyone ok"

Even Johnny would text you from time to time. It was mostly memes, awful stickers or ridiculous, random photos of Gaz mid talking, his face weird, or Price smacking Simon's head, or the entire team posing for a picture, Gaz' arm hovering to the side as if to hug your shoulders. You didn't even need to wonder why Gaz hadn't texted you; that man hated technology with a passion.

Still, you never texted back.

You didn't really pay attention to the texts, or the little voice notes, or the selfies. You didn't feel like reading them properly, always leaving them on seen or just grunting to yourself whenever you heard their distinctive tone. Why you didn't change it in the past few months, you don't know. Maybe that's a question for your therapist.

But then, the texts stop.

Monday

16:49

"Tough job"

"We leave at midnight"

23:42

"Text you when we're back"

Only, Simon doesn't text back. For days. For weeks.

You can't pretend you're not worried. It's impossible, really. You're half-tempted to call him, but you can't, you don't know how it will feel to hear his voice again. He said he'd text you and he hasn't, so he isn't back yet, and you don't want to feel vulnerable by opening up. Yet.

You go through Simon's chat, actually paying attention to whatever he sent you. You realize he sometimes sent you long texts, apologizing, accepting what he did, and even a few voice notes that you didn't notice before. They made your heart race as you listened.

"I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I love you, and you don't have to forgive me"

"Garrick told me to tell you that if you aren't eating he'll go and— shut the hell up, Johnny, I'm talking!"

"Tell her we'll go visit her by the end of the month".

That's Price's voice, you realize.

Feeling incredibly choked up, you check Johnny's chat next. You're expecting to find nothing but memes, as you've seen in passing, but when you see he sent you long, long texts, you finally let yourself cry properly.

He's been apologizing since the day you left, too afraid to face you but his texts are so poorly written you know he was in a rush, or crying, or both. His voice notes, however... they just make you break.

"I'm so sorry. I can't undo what we did. You don't owe me anything, I just... really hope you can at least tolerate me. If not, please know I'll always care for you. I love you. Goodnight".

Something inside of your chest eases, maybe moved to the point of forgiveness, even if just a moment. Your therapist has been helping you unveil whatever you missed during that day— during the torture. It's been a tough process, and she insisted you visited twice a week instead of once, but it helped. You could now understand.

Still, understanding the situation only makes your worry grow.

"Text you when we're back"

For two long weeks, there's nothing, from nobody. Only silence and fear. For the first time since you left, you're scared for them. Scared you'll have to open the door one day and it'll be Price, or maybe not even him, telling you the team is dead.

On the second week, your therapist says you can give them a call, or text them if it's more comfortable. When you say you can't, she advices you to write them letters.

"Tell them whatever you wish to say. If you're angry, write it. If you're worried, write it. There's no good or bad feelings, and it's only right to feel them. Write them for yourself, and then you can choose to give them to your team, or not".

And you did.

A whole notebook of messy writing, some tears staining the paper, and your hate slowly turned to understanding. Real understanding. Not forgiveness, not yet, but it's progress.

By the third week with no news, you just can't handle it anymore. You press call without a second thought and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest when it rings, and rings, and rings.

Hopeless, you lay in your bed, your mind working overtime as you stare at the ceiling.

A muffled dinging sound startles you awake, shifting on the bed to find your phone because that's Simon's tone. Adjusting your vision, you realize it fell from your hands to the ground when you fell asleep. You dive for it, grimacing when your sensitive fingertips brush against the carpet, but to see his name there is enough for you to endure it.

Thursday

01:22

"Safe. Couldn't text you earlier"

01:22

"You called me. Are you hurt?"

01:22

"Safe. Call me"

"Now"

His name pops up not even a moment later, his ringtone filling your ears. When you pick up, he's barely breathing, and you wonder if you're about to be told bad news.

Simon explains they were on a very tough mission, and that that was why he couldn't text you, or communicate with you at all. You could hear him shift, move around. Restless.

They got caught in enemy territory, surviving the best they could for two weeks, Simon tells you. Johnny was shot in the leg and Gaz was the one who helped him out, since Simon was too busy dragging Price, who was bleeding out because someone decided it would be fun to put a bullet through his left shoulder.

"I wasn't any better. Dr. Wilson called me a dick, and then made me lay down because I was shaking. Ridiculous" he grunts, his voice hushed on the other side of the line. "Got shot on my side, I just didn't feel it, but I was better than the other two".

He doesn't seem to expect you to speak, huffing and shuffling. You can tell he's in the clinic room, the echo incredibly familiar by now.

Of course, he doesn't tell you that the reason why he didn't text you the whole past week, is because he's been asleep, drugged out of his mind because of the pain.

"Everyone's okay. No risk. Garrick's the only one who didn't get hurt. I think—"

"I was worried, Simon. I'm glad everyone is okay".

There's silence for a long moment. Simon takes a deep breath from the other side of the phone, sighing deeply. You could hear the smile in his tone. "I wouldn't let myself get killed, luv. I'm sorry I couldn't text you before. We're safe now".

You two spend the rest of the night on the call, with you mostly staying in silence and listening. You can't believe how scared you've been for all of them, for Simon. You know it's gonna be hard to fully forgive them, if at all, but you can't help the way your body relaxes as you hear him breathing against your ear. You can't help the way your arms curl around the pillow, seeking his warmth. As before.

The call goes on for long hours. When your soft hums as he speaks stop coming to his end, Simon goes quiet, realizing you've fallen asleep. He sighs and shifts to look at the ceiling, holding the phone against his ear. Focusing on your soft breathing, he let's himself fall asleep, the gunshot wound completely unimportant if he gets to listen to you sleeping again.

He just wishes you were there.

im so sick y'all, my head hurts, but I obviously couldn't resist! also, you guys like Marina? her new song is so good! mowgli's road's vibes.

the therapist's room I'm describing in the story is actually my therapist's old room. I hated it so BAD. the mirrors were a terrible decision. also, if you can't relate to this type of therapy, that's fine. it's just my experience.

again, styling is fully intentional. can y'all tell how our reader is feeling?~

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird-deactivated202 @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

(we're so many now, wow! thank you all ♡)

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astrolook · 3 days ago

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Degree Theory: Astrology’s Version of Skill Levels (Noobs to Final Bosses) 🎮🌟

You already know your Sun sign, but did you know the degree number it’s at can unlock even more secrets about you? 🤯

Every planet in your birth chart sits at a specific degree (0°-29°), and these numbers add an extra layer of meaning to your personality, strengths, and even life lessons.

Let’s break it down planet by planet—with a fun, no-BS take.

0° – The Cosmic Newborn 👶

"I’m here to start something big."

Planets at 0° act like fresh energy—pure, unfiltered, and ready to shake things up. People with 0° placements feel like pioneers, as if the universe dropped them off and said, "Figure it out!"

🔹 Sun at 0°: You radiate raw, unfiltered main character energy. You’re not here to follow—you're here to lead (or at least dramatically exist).

🔹 Moon at 0°: Your emotions are pure instinct—you don’t just feel things, you ARE the feeling. Mood swings? Nah, mood rollercoasters.

🔹 Mercury at 0°: Words just spill out, whether they make sense or not. Genius or chaotic chatterbox—depends on the day.

🔹 Venus at 0°: You love like a Disney princess—pure, big, dramatic. Also, zero poker face when you’re into someone.

🔹 Mars at 0°: Immediate action. No waiting, no thinking, just punching the gas (and sometimes people).

🔹 Jupiter at 0°: The lucky golden retriever of astrology. You say yes to everything, and somehow life rewards you for it.

🔹 Saturn at 0°: Born responsible. You came out of the womb stressed about taxes.

🔹 Uranus at 0°: You’re the definition of unpredictable. Even you don’t know what you’ll do next.

🔹 Neptune at 0°: You live in your own fantasy world, and reality is just a suggestion.

🔹 Pluto at 0°: Intensity level? Maximum. You were born with a “destroy and rebuild” button.

1°-9° – The Rising Star 🌟

"I’m developing my power."

Planets at early degrees feel like fresh talent in training—raw, ambitious, and figuring things out.

🔹 Sun at 5°: You’re the rising star in your social circle. Humble beginnings, but just wait—you're gonna shine.

🔹 Moon at 3°: Emotional development in progress. You’re learning what feels right and what just feels…ick.

🔹 Mercury at 7°: Brain-to-mouth filter? Still buffering. But your ideas? Gold.

🔹 Venus at 2°: Love is cute, fun, flirty—until you catch feelings, then it’s panic mode.

🔹 Mars at 8°: Your drive is explosive, but figuring out when to stop is the real challenge.

🔹 Jupiter at 6°: Luck works in your favor when you’re brave enough to take risks.

🔹 Saturn at 9°: Learning responsibility early in life, but still finding that work-hard-play-hard balance.

🔹 Uranus at 4°: Experimenting with your rebellious streak, but not fully committing (yet).

🔹 Neptune at 1°: A dreamer who’s just waking up to their spiritual and creative potential.

🔹 Pluto at 5°: Transformation is happening, but it’s not at full power (yet).

10°-19° – The Master of the Craft 🎓

"I know exactly what I’m doing."

Middle-degree planets are strong, balanced, and naturally expressed—not too raw, not too extreme.

🔹 Sun at 15°: Peak confidence. You own your personality like it’s patented.

🔹 Moon at 12°: Emotionally balanced—until someone messes with your peace. Then it’s war.

🔹 Mercury at 18°: Quick wit, great communicator, could talk their way out of a crime.

🔹 Venus at 14°: Aesthetic queen/king. Your love life and your fashion sense? Both on point.

🔹 Mars at 17°: Strategic AF. You know when to strike and when to chill—warrior with a plan.

🔹 Jupiter at 11°: Wise and lucky. Life is a game and you’ve got the cheat codes.

🔹 Saturn at 19°: The mature friend who somehow also enjoys chaos. You handle responsibility like a pro.

🔹 Uranus at 16°: Balanced rebel. Knows when to push boundaries and when to play along.

🔹 Neptune at 10°: Dreams are just clear enough to bring to reality. Manifesting pro.

🔹 Pluto at 13°: Power? Controlled but always present. You scare people (in a good way).

20°-28° – The Old Soul 🦉

"I’ve seen it all, and I’m here to finish the job."

Late-degree planets are intense, wise, and powerful—but also impatient because they’ve been through it all.

🔹 Sun at 25°: You’re a boss, period. No time for games, just legacy-building.

🔹 Moon at 22°: Emotionally deep AF. You KNOW things before people even open their mouths.

🔹 Mercury at 28°: Talks like a professor and a stand-up comedian at the same time.

🔹 Venus at 26°: Love is serious business. No casual dating, just intense connections.

🔹 Mars at 21°: Unstoppable force. You’ve already mastered action—now you’re here to win.

🔹 Jupiter at 23°: Wise beyond your years. You’ve learned all the lessons and now you’re the teacher.

🔹 Saturn at 27°: Life has tested you more than most, but you wear your scars like armor.

🔹 Uranus at 28°: Fully awakened rebel. You break all the rules, but somehow succeed anyway.

🔹 Neptune at 24°: Master manifestor. You make the impossible seem normal.

🔹 Pluto at 27°: Your power is legendary. You were born to make generational changes.

29° – The Fated Degree 🔥 (Final Boss Level of Astrology)

"This energy is my final test."

29° is called the "Anaretic Degree," aka the boss battle of astrology. It’s like cramming for a final exam—the universe is making sure you’ve truly mastered this planetary energy. If you have a planet here, there’s often urgency, intensity, and a feeling of fate around that area of life.

🔹 Sun at 29°: Walking powerhouse. You’ve learned all there is about your identity, and now it’s your final test to own it. Spotlight finds you whether you want it or not.

🔹 Moon at 29°: Emotional sage. You’ve felt it all, been through emotional hell and back, and now your intuition is on god-tier mode. But emotions can feel overwhelming, like you're carrying generations of feelings.

🔹 Mercury at 29°: Brilliant but exhausted mind. Your thoughts race at 5G speed, but decision-making is HARD because you see all the options. Overthinking is your enemy.

🔹 Venus at 29°: Love and beauty master. You’ve seen every possible romantic situation—loyalty, betrayal, passion, heartbreak. Now, love feels fated and no casual flings will do.

🔹 Mars at 29°: The warrior with no off switch. You’ve been in SO many battles (literal or metaphorical) that your go-to reaction is "fight first, think later." But the lesson? Not every war is worth it.

🔹 Jupiter at 29°: Lucky but reckless. You know how to take risks and make big moves, but sometimes it’s too much, too fast. Learning when to pull back is key.

🔹 Saturn at 29°: The old soul who’s been through the wringer. You’ve mastered responsibility, but you might feel like you’ve been an adult since age 5. Final test? Balancing hard work with actual joy.

🔹 Uranus at 29°: Rebel genius. You’ve already mastered breaking rules, revolutionizing ideas, and making history. Now? You need to use that power responsibly.

🔹 Neptune at 29°: Spiritual visionary. You’ve seen through the illusion, lived in your dreams, and touched the mystical. Now, the challenge is staying grounded in reality while keeping the magic alive.

🔹 Pluto at 29°: Transformation overload. You were born into powerful, life-changing experiences. Intensity follows you like a shadow, but your final test is learning to control the fire instead of letting it consume you.

So, What’s Your Degree Number? 🤔

Want to know what your planet’s degrees say about you? Message me for a personalized astrology reading and take a look at my pinned post as well! 🔮✨

Karmic Paths & Soul Purpose: A Complete Guide to the North Nodes & South Nodes in Astrology (13-page report) - $5

Get my full PDF guide for just $5! Payment via PayPal. Once payment is confirmed, I will send you the PDF. It covers North Node & South Node in signs & houses, who you were in your past life, your career, family, love and your relationships in detail. Message me to grab your copy! 🌟

Note : Due to different time zones, I might not reply immediately. Don't worry! Leave me your email address for me to send the password-protected PDF file. Once the payment is confirmed, I will give you the password to access to it.

#astrology #astrology readings #astro observations #birth chart #astro notes #zodiac signs #spiritual awakening #spirituality #spiritual journey #astrologer #astro community #astro posts #astro placements

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priintaniere · 3 days ago

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"Sylvain Gautier and Dorothea Arnault stun on the red carpet for the #FromFaerghusWithLove screening at 75th Enbarr film festival"

or simply, an actor/bodyguard AU

more notes on this AU under the read more

※ please do not repost my art ※ ➜ commission and ko-fi links in bio

this AU really started as just me toying with the idea of actor sylvain with his protective bodyguard felix then wanting to put dorothea and sylvain in fancy clothes but the more i thought about it, the more ideas i had dshhjs

SO expending this with more characters cuz it's fun!

sylvain: actor, model, former child actor dorothea: actress, model, singer, former opera singer lorenz: stage actor claude: writes stage plays for lorenz in his free time ferdinand: stage actor, making his debut in cinema annette: pop singer hilda: pop singer, model yuri: model, singer, former boys band member bernadetta: successful romance writer, debuting as a script writer encouraged and helped by sylvain

dorothea and sylvain have played romantic partners in many movies together and have very good chemistry on camera and during interviews, leading to lot of speculations of them dating

sylvain has the reputation of dating all his co-stars

felix started to wear a mask bc he saw that he was nicknamed "sylvain gautier's hot bodyguard" online and he hated it but now people only finds him hotter and more mysterious with the mask

OF COURSE there are rumors that sylvain and dorothea are dating or at least, have smth romantic (or sexual…??? 👀) going on with their bodyguards (literally the whole point of the au)

ferdinand, sylvain, lorenz and claude attended the same school (think, fodlan's equivalent of juilliard) and used to do stage plays together

ferdinand recently made his debut on screen while lorenz stayed in theater only because he prefers it here, claude's job is totally unrelated to acting or theater but he still writes and arranges stage plays for lorenz in his free time (mostly shakespearean plays)

sylvain has always liked theater and his parents encouraged and supported him when he was noticed by an agent at a very young age to be cast into a movie. he enjoyed it a lot at first but slowly lose his passion but stayed to please his parents (and there may have been parental pressure)

when he turned 19 and his contract was broken, he decided to quit acting to focus on his studies. he later returned 5 years after on his own terms

dorothea had a brief career as an opera singer but found out that she enjoyed doing musicals more

she debuted on screen with a musical and has slowly been branching out, first in romcoms or as the male lead's love interest in action movies but she has since taken more atypical roles for indie movies

felix, ingrid, sylvain are childhood friends, with ingrid initially being sylvain's bodyguard

ingrid became sylvain's bodyguard because she was worried about him and that way, she could always keep an eye on him

when dorothea rose to fame and was thinking of hiring a female bodyguard, sylvain recommended ingrid to her

ingrid then asked felix to replace her as sylvain's bodyguard

#sylvix #dorogrid #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #sylvain jose gautier #dorothea arnault #felix hugo fraldarius #ingrid brandl galatea #actors au #bodyguard au #priintaniere #dorovain #too i suppose :D

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fluemsiie · 2 days ago

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our family [ j. ackles ]

synopsis. you need jensen to come back home. notes. 1.3k words, breastfeeding, depression, mentions of ppd, not proof read, happy birthday jensen <3 — comments & rbs appreciated.

jensen’s been filming for a while, and by a while, you mean for freakin’ months. he can’t catch a break and so you did what any sane person does— you moved to vancouver all the way from texas just to be close to him. it took a lot of planning, and way too much money, but you weren’t letting your husband stay at a different country alone anymore, it was taking a toll on both your mental health and your relationship.

not to mention your daughter always asking for daddy, where he is, can she go out with him; it’s breaking your heart as much as it is his and so you decided to settle for a smaller apartment near where they were filming.

you’d say it helped your mental health but that would be a lie. ever since you had your daughter you knew something had been seriously wrong. you’re unmotivated to move out of bed, you try to do everything you need to in your room, hardly go out to see anyone but her. anything you need to go do, you have delivered. if the whole ‘not moving’ thing wasn’t hurting you, then the fact that you let your body go a little is fucking breaking you.

you don’t think anything has ever been so wrong in your life, nothing goes the way it should and it seems like you can’t fix it no matter what you do which is disappointing considering you’re a mother now. a mother. you’re supposed to know everything and have all the answers.

and despite moving to be closer to him, leaving behind your own family, something not a lot of people would do, he still spends some nights at jared’s (because gen is still in texas, like you should be).

except there’s also another thing jensen has no idea about; you got diagnosed with depression shortly before you made the move, it’s a big reason why you did the move in the first place. you thought it was past partum but you made sure to actually get diagnosed before telling jen and since you won’t be harming yourself or your baby girl, you decided he didn’t need to know.

he’s been so busy since he decided to start directing too and you’re insanely proud of him, even if you’re having a hard time. but you don’t wanna risk it so here you are, alone in a city you’ve visited only a handful of times with your two year old daughter.

but today’s by far one of your worst days. you tried taking some pills, just pain killers, you aren’t comfortable taking pills for whatever’s wrong with you, you can’t risk hurting any future babies. it isn’t like you don’t believe in them— you’re a nurse, of course you do, but you also know they could hurt you long term, it’s not worth it.

some days it seems like it’s just not worth it. you pick up your phone to call jensen. it takes a few rings but then he responds and you sigh in relief. you honestly thought he wouldn’t pick up, “hey.”

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” it catches you by surprise but when you recover you tell him you and rhyme are great. “i mean you, sweetheart. you sound off.”

you don’t sound that off. definitely not enough for him to pick it up the second you greet him. not that you’re complaining, maybe if he knows what’s wrong he’ll get home faster. jensen’s always helped you in ways he wouldn’t even believe— he’s your life force at times and you’re not sure what you’d do without him, especially now when you need him.

and he’s not neglectful, he took your first four months off from filming and had his sister stay with you for the other two. he’s always put your needs in front of filming but you don’t want to be overbearing.

“when are you getting home? i’m making your favorite.”

“yeah? ‘m not too sure. twelve-thirty, give or take.” which is code for ‘don’t wait up’ so you wake up and find out he never made it home, just crashed on set or at jay’s

“okay.” you can’t bring yourself to ask him to come home even if you don’t doubt he will. jen’s working because he loves his job, sure, but it’s also to provide for you, he wouldn’t want to hurt you over something he’s doing for you in the first place. and you know all that, you just wish you’d always be logical enough to remember it.

“is that it?” god, this is conflicting. you know you need him right now, you just can’t get the words out. “sweetheart?”

“yeah.”

It’s a beat before he responds. “i’m coming home at twelve with dinner. don’t cook anything.” he ends the call and you’re smiling. it’s no surprise he figured you needed him, but you couldn’t be happier to have someone that cares enough to come when you call, despite your call being ominous and downright needy.

it’s the third time you’ve started frozen because rhyme doesn’t understand that when a movie ends you start a new one, all while breastfeeding her. it’s gotten significantly easier as she nears two years old, she just sits next to you instead of you having to kill your back, and she honestly does it for ten minutes maximum before she gets bored.

and at this point she’s tried everything from lamb to mashed fruit, milk is hardly a full meal to her. but your doctor said it’s best to try and breastfeed her until she hits the 22 month mark. she’s nearing 20 months now.

when she’s done, and else is singing ‘let it go’ with rhyme as her background vocalist, you get up to get started on dinner. jensen said to not make anything which means he’s ordering take out himself but you should probably make sure the counter is clean and that there’s a salad to go with the food.

just as you’re done cleaning the table, the front door opens and your shoulder fall in relief. you didn’t even know you were raising them. you hear his footsteps all the way to the living room, where rhyme runs into her dads arms and lifts her up effortlessly.

he turns to you, sees you standing in your open kitchen and walks over to kiss your hair softly. “hey, baby girl.”

rhyme laughs and hugs him tighter. well, the endearment is yours as much as it is hers, you’re both his girls.

“thanks for coming home, jen.”

“don’t do that, don’t thank me for that. i should’ve known it bothered you— and you should’ve told me earlier.”

“it doesn’t always! just when i need you and then i wake up and i just don’t find you.” days where the depression is just, god, it’s horrible. days when you can’t take rhyme crying because you can’t find the toy she lost or when she’s hungry and you’ve only slept two hours, waiting for his text to confirm he’s safe and at home.

“baby, i can’t always read your mind, sometimes you gotta help me out.” you nod quickly and he kisses his daughter before putting her down.

“foor?” food. he nods, placing the bag onto the table. you’ve been teaching her german so she confuses d’s for r’s. you’re not too sure how that came to be but you don’t question it because she’s been saying words in german.

the smell hits you all at once, and your heart practically squeezes itself. jensen drove to your favourite restaurant thirty minutes away. it makes your home country’s food the most authentically and you’ve always loved feeling at home.

“jensen, seriously?” he smiles and you’re the one who throws yourself into his arms this time, his little girl, not quite understanding, joins in. and you’re not sure how you would’ve gotten through today without him coming back home to his girls.

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liliasenbyhusband · 2 days ago

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Play stupid games

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Joanne x reader (company, f!Bobbie)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!!!, smutty thoughts but no actual smut, drinking, mentions of smoking and cigarettes, that’s it I think??

Tags: longing, established friendship between reader, Joanne, a bit more angsty than the other chapter, loneliness, drinking, hangover, flirting

Summary: Joanne comes home after Bobbie’s party to an empty apartment and has a hard time dealing with the loneliness that accompanies that.

Notes: Honestly, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter. I have very mixed emotions about it. I hope you guys like it though. I’m hoping to be able to post the next chapter next weekend, but I can’t make any promises cause uni is really taking it out of me atm. As always, English isn’t my first language so please excuse any mistakes.

Words: ~3.7k

Chapter 1

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Chapter 2: Bobbie’s best friend

Joanne sighed as she entered her empty apartment, if she hadn’t been so hellbent on winning that stupid argument with Bobbie then she could have asked you to join her for a nightcap… would it still be considered a nightcap at 4 am in the morning..? She shrugged and decided to pour herself a glass of whiskey. She really did despise coming home to an empty apartment, especially when she didn’t get to properly say goodbye to you.

She had no one to blame but herself really. She could have easily let Bobbie win the argument and then asked you to go with her to her apartment. Or she could have at least taken a proper break from arguing to take her time to say goodbye to you. But at the time winning their little fight had been more important so now she had to deal with the emptiness that had settled into her heart, an all too familiar feeling whenever you weren’t around. Joanne hated a lot of things, but missing you might just be one of the things she hated the most.

She groaned at her own patheticness, she had just seen you, how was she already craving your company again? She blamed the alcohol for her neediness and the persistent ache that seemed insistent on haunting her whenever she thought about you for too long. She also decided to ignore the wet patch that had formed in her underwear, the result of being a little too flirty with you and her inability to stop her horny thoughts from taking over whenever you were around.

Joanne threw herself on her couch after taking off her shoes and began sipping her whiskey. She knew it was a bad idea to drink even more, but it was the only thing she could think to do to fight the sadness that had woven itself into every fiber of her being.

Her faulty plan to distract herself with more alcohol had been doomed from the start and it completely backfired when she failed to find something else to think of or keep herself busy with. The thoughts she had tried to repress took over, alcohol tended to have that effect on her… and yet she never learned from her past mistakes and continued to drink whenever her heart felt sad or empty. So, unable to do anything to stop it, she groaned as the memories and feelings from this turbulent past year and a half began to plague her.

Joanne had never entertained the thought of liking women.. let alone the idea that she might not like men. She had blamed the fact that her marriages never worked out on the fact that she had never met a man that could handle her or meet her high standards. Joanne had never questioned it… not until her third marriage had ended and she once again felt nothing but relief to be rid of another husband.

Surely she should have been more upset at losing her third husband, at another broken marriage… sure Larry hadn’t been perfect but he had been kind and gentle and patient. So why was she so happy to be rid of him? And that’s when it hit her, him being so patient and gentle had been the problem. He had started getting too close, he knew her too well and he was too kind, wanted to be intimate too much and loved her too much. Whenever she pulled away, he took a step closer and it was insufferable, so she had ended things.

With every husband she had found flaws, flaws that were too great to look past, that she could not stand, that irritated her beyond comprehension. And during every marriage she had made it impossible for the relationship to bloom and thrive, always finding new ways to pull back or taunt her spouse. It had started to make her question things, even during her marriage with Larry.

And then, when the expected hurt at losing someone, who so clearly loved her, didn’t follow, after she felt nothing but relief and guilt, she had started to really look at herself and her previous marriages. Of course with the help of some a lot of alcohol, because trying to do any introspection sober was a fate worse than death.

Joanne realised she had never felt attracted to her husbands… in fact she barely even tolerated most of them.. she couldn’t even remember why she had married them, other than it had been expected of her so she’d done it.

In the midst of this personal journey, Bobbie had introduced her new best friend to the group. When Bobbie had announced that she’d be bringing you to their next gathering, because she wanted everyone to meet you, Joanne had been skeptical of adding another person to their already big and chaotic friend group. She also wasn’t sure if she had the emotional strength to deal with meeting someone new right now. But it had seemed important to Bobbie, and whether she admitted it or not, she cared for her.. so she’d begrudgingly agreed to be there for the next gathering and had promised to be nice to you.

A decision she was now incredibly grateful for. When first meeting you she had started jokingly flirting with you, just like she did with most women she met for the first time, she found it usually eased the tension and awkwardness. Although most women never really matched her energy, usually just rolling their eyes or laughing at Joanne’s remarks. But then you came and you matched every dirty remark with an even filthier one and you had even managed to fluster her every once in a while, a feat only a very few people could claim to have accomplished. Meeting you had been like finally feeling a cool breeze after being trapped in a hot room for days on end.

And then she got to know you better, and you were so clearly and unapologetically yourself, she had to admit she admired it. You were no longer just a fun person to throw filthy comments at, but you had actually stirred something deep within her. She found herself feeling feelings she thought people had been lying about existing, she certainly never felt these butterflies around any of her husbands… when she began to truly think about it, the only time she had ever felt this giddy around anyone was during her college days when she had spent most of her time hanging out with her closest friend.

And that’s how all the puzzle pieces finally fell into place.. on a random Friday night at Bobbie’s, surrounded by her friends and while talking to you. Suddenly everything made sense. Why she had despised every single one of her husbands, how they had never been able to match her high standards, why she had felt so betrayed when her closest friend had gotten a boyfriend, and why she suddenly felt butterflies whenever you touched her. She was a lesbian… it was a crushing realization, accompanied by a wave of many intense emotions, both good and bad.

Joanne had never been more grateful for her ability to hide her emotions behind a well crafted mask and a strongly built wall than she had been that random Friday night. She had somehow managed to hold everything together till she got to her apartment, where she let the wave of emotions drown her completely while reaching for her familiar bottle of vodka.

The journey to acceptance had been a long and arduous one, especially since she refused to tell anyone about what she was going through, not out of a fear of not being accepted, but simply because she refused to seem weak. She had spent years creating this persona and she would be damned before ever showing her real self to these people.

The fact that she had developed a bit of a crush on you hadn’t helped this predicament either… she had only known you for a couple of months and hung out with you outside of the friend group twice and yet she had somehow managed to make this harder on herself than it already was.

And yet, somehow, she managed to slowly but surely start accepting this part of herself and her life had started to make a whole lot more sense now. She would never say it out loud, but opening up to you, even just a little, had helped her journey immensely and even though she hadn’t exactly come out to you, she still felt like you somehow knew, like you could see through her and, unlike with Larry, the thought brought her ease and comfort.

Her phone vibrating brought her out of her thoughts, as she checked who had messaged her, she noticed the time: 6 am. Had she really been lost in thought that long..? She sighed and downed the rest of her whiskey before reading the message Bobbie had sent her. It was a very poorly written apology, wanting to make sure Joanne hadn’t been angry with her after their little quarrel.

Bobbie was very clearly drunk, she always got anxious and began to overthink everything when she was drunk and alone. Joanne rolled her eyes and sighed but there was no real annoyance behind it, she cared a lot about Bobbie, and deep down she understood her more than she’d ever admit. She saw a great deal of herself in the other woman. She typed out a quick message, full of mistakes, reassuring Bobbie that they were okay and that she wasn’t upset about the argument. Quite frankly she couldn’t even remember what the argument had been about… the only thing she could remember was that it had seemed important to win it… but then again, to Joanne, winning any argument at all was always important

When she exited their chat, she saw your name right under Bobbie’s, which is when she remembered that she hadn’t sent you a text, to tell you that she had gotten home safe, yet. You and Joanne usually texted each other immediately after getting home…she couldn’t exactly remember when or why you had started doing it, but it was nice nonetheless. It made her feel like someone cared about her and it was always nice to know that you’d gotten home safe.

She had completely forgotten to text you this time though, too absorbed in her own thoughts to remember to let you know she’d made it to her apartment in one piece… so she quickly sent you a message, letting you know she had gotten home safely. In her drunken haste to reply to you, she had struggled to write a coherent message, the singular sentence containing more spelling mistakes than words spelled correctly, but she knew you wouldn’t care.. as long as you knew she got home safe.

Joanne groaned as she felt that familiar ache once again begin to settle into her heart upon seeing your name on her screen. Her little crush, attraction and fascination with you had turned into something much deeper these past months. She had tried to push it down, bottle it up, forget about it, but her feelings always found a way back to the forefront of her mind. Luckily for her, you seemed to be none the wiser, the years of perfecting the walls she had built around her heart had paid off.

Sometimes she dreamed about telling you how she felt or confessing to you that she was a lesbian, just so she could say it out loud to someone. And who better to tell than the only person she felt comfortable opening up to, even just a little? Besides she was quite sure you knew already or at least suspected something.

But then the shame and embarrassment kicked in.. how on Earth had it taken her this long to find out she liked women? She knew you wouldn’t judge her but… well maybe you should. She had gone through life proclaiming to know it all, telling anyone who would listen how she had life completely figured out and yet… she didn’t even discover this essential part of herself until fairly recently. Not only had it taken her multiple decades to figure it out, but it had also taken her three whole divorces… no she was too proud to ever admit this to anyone, even you. Accepting herself was one thing, having to deal with the consequences of her own actions was something entirely different. And what was the point, anyway? It was too late, she was too old… and there was no way you’d be interested in her.

“There is still time.”

She whispered into the cold air of her living room, it sounded desperate, like she was trying to convince herself of a lie. It was supposed to be comforting, a reminder that it wasn’t too late, that she could still explore this side of herself…there was still time. Except it didn’t feel comforting, instead it felt like a curse, there is still time.. there is always time… and nothing to fill it with, no dreams to be chased, no goals to be accomplished, no wishes to be fulfilled, no work to be completed… just time.. an endless stretch of time that she couldn’t seem to assign any meaning to. She stared at her now empty glass as the reality of having a future with no goals she wished to chase, settled into her once again.

No, you would never be into her, you needed someone ambitious, someone who could help you grow in life and would encourage you to follow your dreams… not a drunk old broad who spent her days doing nothing but complaining and drinking.

Joanne groaned as she got up from the couch, she really hated coming home to an empty apartment, her thoughts seemed to never stop when she was alone. With great difficulty she made her way over to her bed. She couldn’t be bothered to change out of today's clothes, so she just let herself fall into her bed. She’d regret all of this tomorrow morning.. or well, more accurately, later today.. but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

Thanks to the alcohol, she managed to fall asleep rather quickly, but it didn’t provide her any solace. You haunted her dreams with your understanding eyes, witty remarks and comforting touches.

Joanne woke up feeling worse than she did when she had gone to bed. Not only did she have a massive hangover but having dreamt of you laying beside her and then waking up in an empty bed, in the same clothes she had worn yesterday, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes, had hit her harder than she would ever admit.

She slowly got out of bed, opting to take a cold shower before trying to do anything, needing to get rid of this smell and hoping to get rid of some of the brain fog.

When Joanne got out of the shower, she was entirely unaware of what part of the day it was, she had no clue how long she had slept, all she knew was that she needed a cigarette, an aspirin and something to eat… although her nausea did not agree with that last part.

She threw on the comfiest pair of pants she owned and one of her favourite blouses. As she was about to search for her phone, to try and figure how late it was, a knock disturbed the silence that hung in her apartment. A confused frown made its way onto her face, she was quite sure she hadn’t made any plans today, anticipating that she would be too hungover to follow through on any of them.

She made her way over to her door nonetheless, not bothering to check what she looked like. She would tell whoever was on the other side of that door they could fuck off anyway. She was not in the mood for any company.

The second Joanne opened the door she regretted not putting on her make-up or checking herself in the mirror. As her eyes landed on your smiling form, a bit of self consciousness began to creep its way into her mind.

Her confusion must have been clear on her face because you quickly began to explain yourself, holding up two cups of coffee and a bag that she assumed had some sort of food in it. You were clearly a little nervous as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

“Judging by the text you sent early this morning, I figured you might have a rough morning or, more accurately, afternoon. So I reckoned why not surprise you with your favourite coffee and some breakfast.. I thought you might need it. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Joanne shook her head and softly reassured you that she had been awake already, electing to leave out that she had only been awake for approximately half an hour. She couldn’t stop the small smile from making its way onto her face, you were so thoughtful. She mentally cursed herself as she felt her heart flutter at your kind gesture.

She tried to act like her self assured self while letting you in, but she suddenly was very aware of the state she had left her apartment in after getting back home. Her empty glass was still sat on top of the living room table, her coat had been thrown on the first chair she had seen and her shoes were carelessly discarded in front of the couch. On top of that you had never seen her without make-up. The self consciousness that had already been creeping its way into her mind now doubled in intensity.

Joanne didn’t miss the worried look you sent her way, you must have picked up on her uneasiness. She quickly sent you a reassuring smile, muttering something about a hangover as she slipped her confident mask back on, before taking the coffee you had handed her.

“So what did you bring me for breakfast? Besides you of course?”

Joanne teased, her voice light while her lips twitched into a smirk. She found these type of teasing remarks usually helped her slip back into the persona she had created for herself. And trying to fluster you was also an added bonus.

She watched as you tried to hide the faintest blush by taking a sip from your coffee. She had noticed how you got flustered more often and easier lately, she sometimes wondered what had suddenly changed for you to suddenly become more shy. It reminded her of the conversation she had overheard between you and Bobbie yesterday. Maybe Bobbie was implying that it had been too long since you had gotten laid? Could that be part of the reason why you had gotten so easy to fluster? Maybe Bobbie had offered to introduce you to someone and then told you to take action, to not let her offer go to waste… it certainly would make sense.

That thought left her with a feeling she hadn’t felt in ages, jealousy. She internally groaned at her own stupidity. She had absolutely no right to be jealous, besides she didn’t even know if there was anything to be jealous of. She realised she might not know you as well as she thought she did. You had never talked much about your love life, at least not to Joanne… Bobbie seemed to know more though… she definitely knew something that Joanne didn’t.

The jealousy that she had felt earlier only got worse at that. This wasn’t her thoughts coming up with a hypothetical scenario.. this was reality…you trusted Bobbie more than her… maybe even liked her more than her. Joanne took a sip from her coffee, trying to stop the lump that had threatened to form in her throat.

She silently scolded herself, you were Bobbie’s best friend, it made complete sense for you to trust her more, share more secrets with her, share parts of your life that you didn’t with Joanne.

Her racing thoughts came to a halt when you spoke up to answer her question, a question she had completely forgotten she had asked in the first place.

“Pastries from that cute little bakery on the corner. If you still have an appetite after them, you can have your dessert.”

Your voice sounded light and playful and the wink you sent her way had a much bigger effect on her than it should have. She was quite sure she wouldn’t be able to get the image of eating you out on her couch out of her head for the rest of the day.

When you handed her the bag with pastries those filthy thoughts were replaced by a much warmer, softer feeling. She only now realised you had gone to her favourite bakery and as she opened the bag, she saw that you had not only gone to her favourite bakery, but you had also gotten her favourite pastries.

Joanne had mentioned that bakery and her favourite pastries once or twice and couldn’t believe you had remembered it. Any sadness that had previously tainted her heart was replaced by the comforting feeling that accompanied the knowledge that you cared enough about her to remember these little things.

A genuine and heartfelt “thank you” slipped from her lips as she looked into your eyes, the gratitude clearly displayed in her own.

The rest of the afternoon was spent teasing one another, talking about everything and nothing, as the sound of laughter filled the air. The contrast with earlier that day could not have been bigger. The sadness and coldness that had polluted the air of the living room mere hours earlier, had now been replaced with a warmth that could only come from time spent with you, watching you blush and hearing you laugh at Joanne’s dirty jokes.

The warmth still lingered even after you had begrudgingly left, reminders of your presence lingering in her kitchen and living room. Your discarded coffee cup on the living room table and the bag, with still half a pastry in it, laid on the kitchen counter. The emptiness that had taken hold of Joanne’s heart earlier had now been filled with a feeling only you could bring out in her, she didn’t have a name for it, not yet, but for once she didn’t care that she didn’t know. She just wanted to bask in this feeling for a little while longer, before the ache of missing you inevitably took hold of her once again.

#joanne x reader #company #joanne #fanfic #patti lupone

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airborneice · 2 days ago

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soo throwing out my pmd au designs for the trio, and also their levels and movesets bc I put way too much thought into this already and I’m gonna yap about all of it under the cut :>

so for why I chose the pokemon I did…David and Hilda’s pokemon were really quick to figure out for me - teddiursa is already orange and literally the son boy pokemon so it was a perfect match imo, and shinx picks up 3/4 of Hilda’s colour palette without even trying. plus the electric type has a reputation for being a bit feisty and impulsive so that fits Hilda p well I think

Frida gave me way more trouble finding a suitable match but I think I’m finally happy w making her an espeon. I think her being a psychic type is a good analogue for magic so it ticks that box, and espeon picks up the purple in frida’s s3 design (her white patches are also meant to relate to her s3 look :> ). alsoo it’s not super obvious here but her inner ears and gem are blue so she can still match both hilda and david’s colour palettes like god intended 😌 OH and also a bit of Frida’s clothing/decor in the show is cat-themed, so I figured if she likes cats so much she can be one. as a treat 😌

so in this AU Hilda takes the place of the player character, so she’s the one randomly waking up in the pokemon world with amnesia and the vague recollection of being human before whereas David and Frida are just regular pokemon (something something parallel to Hilda moving to the city and having no idea how anything works vs David and Frida already having it figured out etc)

at the start, Frida is already evolved and a bit higher level than the others. I was thinking of that drive to overachieve & live up to expectations that she has at the start of the show, and how in a pokemon au evolving a little early would probably be a point of pride for her (and her parents). david and hilda on the other hand don’t have much expertise battling yet (Hilda is literally fresh into being a pokemon so doesn’t have battles figured out and David is actively scared of them) so they’re low-level and their movesets are basic, though I tried to tailor them to their personalities a little bit. I wanted to make Frida’s moveset more tactical and thought-out since she’s the one planning and strategising to keep the team on track. (a moment of silence for her hanging on to Baton Pass when she’s in a team with two pokemon who are too scared/inexperienced in battle to be any help at all…) plus she has the odd TM bc I figure if her parents had such high hopes for her, they’d try to make sure she had a good start and got the best moves money could buy. at the point where Hilda comes in, Frida and David both want to become explorers but for their own reasons can’t quite work up the nerve to make it happen yet..we’ll get to that in the next post :>

#i think we can all see who the target audience for this au is #me. It’s just me #i love having an excuse to be insane abt pokemon on main #i uh. have not drawn a lot lately #all my energy rn is going into surviving at my new job lmao #so I’ve been taking a break from drawing and it’s been kinda nice!#i wanted to post what I already had tho and I’ll keep chipping away at it #it might be a while tho #Hilda netflix #pokemon #hilda the series #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd #pokemon au #art tag

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orpheuslookingback · 3 days ago

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oof man I've been loving severance in general but I think that last episode is the first one I have like lots of Thoughts about that I feel like I can at least kind of string together lol. Like I was moderately worried about what direction the Dead Wife thing was going to go in. Because it would have been so easy (and kind of disappointing) for her to just ultimately be an object that exists as a goal/motivator for other characters and not a person (as is common with Dead Wife characters, both literal and not so literal); that's sort of what she's been so far, with just the tease that she could be more. And unless they drop the ball big time (which god I hope they don't), this episode already made it clear: she IS more. Like revealing her to be both physically AND mentally alive at this point in the story is such a good writing choice and feels SO crucial to escaping from some of the really cliché permutations that these kind of basic story arcs/character archetypes can fall into.

I know everyone's been doing the orpheus/eurydice comparisons and now I know people are talking about how mark and gemma are now both actually the orpheus to each other's eurydice, but it's also this: gemma has been split into who knows how many people. She's his eurydice. She's his orpheus. And she's her own orpheus, too. Because she gets herself out of the underworld and then, not remembering she has, she's sent right back down again. And she hesitates and turns around one more time. But she doesn't know. She doesn't even know what she's really looked back at. She doesn't know the world she's sent away. Not until she's back in the underworld, and she's eurydice again.

Also! To interplay him remembering her, give us a classic Dead Wife Sequence- complete even with some of the classic images! The beautiful woman smiling in nature, lying in bed, looking at you, the light warm for the very first time- with the cold, stark reminder that she isn't actually dead, and more than that is still conscious and trying to get out and find him- is SUCH a cool move. Like it totally flips the idea of the Dead Wife Sequence on its head. It's not just grief anymore. It's not just using a lost person as a prop that our hero fights on in memory of. It's the Dead Wife Sequence as horror.

Because she's still the Dead Wife and yet at the same time it dramatically shifts her role in the story, right? Because it turns out everything she is to Mark, he is to her. This unreachable person who you now know isn't dead but who you cannot get to and you cannot know the true present reality of you can only take the word of people you don't totally trust or know. And so, they are dead. But now you know it's only to you. Because we've seen them both now, and we know they're both not just alive, they're fighting.

("she's not dead, she's just not here")

She's not your Dead Wife but you can't help the fact that in your memory, in your mind, she is. So you're the one, in a way, that's killing her. And you're her Dead Husband. "He's moved on" and you know that's a lie but does it really matter until you see him? Until he's real again? Because until then, you're both choking on ghosts.

And the ghosts aren't even really there.

#i am rotating this show around in my brain im actually obsessed like ????#severance #severance apple tv #mark scout #gemma scout #ms casey #random thoughts

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zepskies · 9 hours ago

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Lol YESSS I know you love a bit of angsty heartbreak. 😜 Thank you so much, friend! Can't wait to see what you thought of the penultimate chapter. 💖

Oh, Micheal is just such a lovely, lovely person, isn't he? 😒 In the words of Taylor Swift: Michael doesn't measure up in any measure of a man...

oh God yeah, perfect quote for this pos, honestly. 😣

Hahaha omfg I loved Sam so much during this chapter! He was awesome!!! Go Lawyer!Sam 😎🤎 (And I have no idea if you intended for my mind to jump to Changing Channels and French Mistake Sam with these lines, but it did, so THANK you 🤣🫶)

LMAO I'm deaddd - Sam in Changing Channels is exactly the cadence of all his lawyering/"agreeing" with Michael to keep him talking. It's very "play your role" for sure! And French Mistake Sam is the icing on the cake. 🤣🤣🤣

I do understand his struggle after the war, but it's literally NO excuse to treat his wife like shit, cheat on her, lie to her, spend her money for his trashy sidepiece, and God knows what else. You don't want an anchor? Fine. Get divorced. The fact he keeps her around and won't let her find her own happiness after she literally saved his life is so mind-boggingly selfish smh The least he could to show his gratitude is not be a gigantic cuntface 🤬

First of all, LOVE that you dug up that Freddie gif. Leave it to you to find the perfect one there. 🤣🤣

And yes ALLLL of this! Louder for the people in the back!!!

That's exactly how I hoped readers would react to Michael's scene. Is he pitiable in a sense? Sure. Does he inspire sympathy? Maybe. But it doesn't excuse his selfishness, especially when you contrast him with Dean and his experiences vs. his actions.

Ugh, God, poor thing! 😭💔 With all the romanticism of that period sadly also comes the shame of taboo topics (not to mention feminism in general taking a backseat lol) Really feel for her here! Wish she wouldn't blame herself as much. Her husband is a dirtbag 😔

Ooof yep, that's something I hoped would come across as well. I wanted the reader to be strong but realistic to the time period in that sense. But it shows how her moral character differs from her husband. 🙄 Even now, she feels guilty for betraying him, even if she also doesn't. It's more the principle of it that she feels shame for, if not the actual emotional act.

SCREAMING 😳😳😳 The whole flower shop scene was like watching a train wreck. Poor Dean! So many stingers in those few sentences!! 😩 (And man, I wanna choke Michael!!! Buying flowers? Dinner? Are you fucking kidding me??? WHAT THE F–???)

Ughhhh God ikr? Poor Dean, indeed!! 😭😭 What's ironic is Michael doesn't know that that's almost exactly what Dean did to cheer her up the night before. So now, even Dean might be looking at his own actions as "not enough." But Michael has every shade of audacity, doesn't he? 😤

But did you stop the angst there? Nope! The reader part of me hated you, while the writer part highly commended you 😂💜

*snorts* honestly thank you - this compliment feeds me so much. 😂💕💕

I already knew it wouldn't be fast, but I knew this was going to be a problem. Where would she stay during this? Michael certainly won't have it, and I really fear for her safety here 🥺 (Reading the teaser for the last part, I think I have good reason to, even though I know you said once earlier I didn't need to. Still, you got me shaking here, girl 😅) Surprised Sam wouldn't think about that, considering everything he found out about the guy so far 👀

Ooh yes, these are all good questions! Her safety and where she'll stay is definitely a factor coming into play in Part 5. After what Sam has found out, he's going to make sure she's looked out for, for sure! 💜💜

This was such a dreamy, swoon-worthy movie scene *sighs* 😍🫠 And then they had to start talking, didn't they? Specifically Dean. The infamous DW self-loathing enters the AU 😆 I really just wanted to cover his piehole and tell him to stop talking, kiss her for real, and take her with you. Hide out in Kansas till everything blows over 😭

Ugh right?? Things started out so nice, why tf did Dean have to open his mouth? lmaoo

"I'm no good for you"!Dean has entered the chat. 😒 But no DW love story would be complete without a little self-loathing, right? 🙃

LOL love that image of literally covering his piehole.~

But I know it hurts, my lovely. I'm so sorry to do this to you. 🥲🤭

And I'm so glad the brothers had a long overdue chat as well! I still feel so incredibly heartbroken for Dean 😭

Oh yeah, Sam and Dean needed to have that moment - for Sam to see how much he was hurting big bro, and for Dean to get that off his chest. Ultimately though, if these guys can survive three years of the war apart, they can survive learning how to be brothers again too. 💜

I can't wait for the last part of this & how it all will tie together in the end! Eeeek! This is so, so, so incredibly good, friend!!! 😍😍😍 (And I get to read it on Patreon tonight too hehe 🩵)

Aww I love you so much for wanting to join my Patreon, friend!! I can't wait to see what you think of how it all shakes out--with much drama of course. you know me lmao 😘💖💖

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

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Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.”

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes.

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list.

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you.

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?”

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you.

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far.

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp.

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.”

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel.

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand.

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand.

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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corpocyborg · 1 day ago

Text

Regarding The Busts in Gortash's Office

So because I'm endlessly obsessive, I did what I said I would do & wrote down the names and descriptions of all of the people that Gortash has busts of in his office because they seem to be people he admires so I wanted to analyze them, as one does when one is endlessly obsessive. I also did additional research on the ones that I could find more information about. Here they are, and some of my own thoughts on why they might have been included (under a read more because it's long because, again, obsessive).

Baron Alec Bormul - First of the Bormul patriar family to start his own venture, Alec is the unscrupulous bastard who made their fortune in mines and vineyards.

Now, as far as I can find, this is the only information we have about this character. However, there are several other Bormul family members that exist in the game (including an NPC called Callem Bormul who is present at Gortash's ordaining ceremony). The one that stands out more to me though is Ilza Bormul, who is mentioned in the in-game book "Baldur's Gate and the Dialectics of Plunder" and stated to own "slave-labour mines in the mountains of Amn". Presumably therefore Alec is an "unscrupulous bastard" due to the use of slave labor. Not particularly surprising Gortash would approve of that since he is a known slaver himself. Interestingly, that same book also mentions Xeremiah Eltan, who is another of the busts in the office, as another example of the fact that Baldur's Gates patriar families are all founded by blood and immorality (which the author of the book says no one ever talks about). So I imagine both busts are also included as confirmation of his worldview that no one innocent ever gets far in life. I think it's also notable here that Gortash chose to commemorate the "first" of the family who "started his own venture". We know he loves a self-made man, no matter how brutal his path was. Commodore Morgan Redlocks - Baldur's Gate ship captain Morgan Redlocks wed a man thrice her age. After the wedding, the groom suffered a heart attack. Redlocks converted his merchant ships into a pirate fleet.

Unfortunately not a character that I can find any more information about, but how much do you want to bet that she killed her husband? I mean, come on. He has a heart attack so soon after the wedding that he's still being referred to as the "groom" and not the husband? Plus it wouldn't even remotely surprise me that Gortash would appreciate a subtle femme fatale assassin. Also, of fucking course he would admire a pirate. Magnate Carric Ilphescient - Carric started from nothing, built a financial empire, and founded the Counting House. He refused to mingle with the other patriars, saying, "They didn't want me when I was an urchin, and now they can't have me."

Another self-made man, and one who does not mince words about it. Easy to imagine that that quote reflected Gortash's own mentality. Only other reference I could find to him was in an in-game book in the Counting House called "Record of the Honoured" but all it tells us is that he did in fact found the Counting House. The Cockeyed Stranger - This is a bust of the god Bane as he first appeared to Gortash in dreams, and was then described to a Rivington sculptor.

Bane is obviously a far more established D&D character than anyone else here, so I could write a whole page just about Bane and how I imagine Gortash sees him. I swear I've seen a bit of loading screen flavor text in BG3 that states that when Bane was a mortal man, he was originally a battleslave of Mephistopheles, but it is possible that I'm wrong about that because I cannot find confirmation of this lore anywhere on the internet. (If anyone else has seen that loading screen flavor text, please confirm so I know I'm not hallucinating!) But if it is true, then it's immensely clear what Gortash sees in him. Gortash's whole thing is he absolutely loves the idea of someone who started from the bottom and rose to the top through sheer ruthlessness. He likes the idea of overthrowing his oppressors and taking their place. As a whole, Bane's doctrine also fits Gortash really well. The Forgotten Realms Wiki says that Bane "embodied the principles of ambition and control and believed that the strong had not only the right, but the duty, to rule over the weak." I can easily imagine Gortash having the same mentality. Bane is also known for being a lot more open to having alliances than is typical for an evil god, but he always makes sure he ends up on top. (I could write a whole other analysis about how the original plan hatched by Gortash, Durge, & Ketheric leaves Gortash in the best position. Ketheric gets to be a fearsome conquering general, Durge (later Orin) gets to spread chaos in the streets, but Gortash is the one who ends up being the hero who can actually not only have the benefit of his legitimate ruthlessness but also the benefit of it remaining hidden! By far the best position in the alliance. Orin actually is mad about this (she gives a little speech to Durge about how Gortash betrayed them because all her murders only drive the people of Baldur's Gate into the arms of his Steel Watch) but it is implied that Durge didn't think of it the same way since those were always the terms of the plan... something that always makes me wonder about what exactly it is that Durge & Gortash originally had planned in the long-term. Were they really just both always planning to betray the other eventually? Because I'm honestly not so sure about that. I think they're both too smart for that. But I digress.) Dame Amafrey Ephemial - Dame Amafrey, the Orphans' Friend, founded several orphanages in the Outer City, as the Lower City was no place for children (and the Upper City declined to sponsor an orphanage).

Okay, this is by far the black sheep in the set. A philanthropist? Seemingly without an ulterior motive? Why is she included here? I mean, on the one hand, I could almost believe that Gortash is sympathetic to the plights of children in a way he wouldn't be for adults (since he suffered so much as a child & since children don't have as many ways to help themselves and take responsibility as adults do), but on the other hand, it is so deeply inconsistent with his character too. But then again, maybe he's just a hypocrite. Maybe this really is some sort of secret soft side. Or perhaps it has more to do with the fact that she seemed to be bogged down by the corruption around her (the Upper City declined to sponsor an orphanage) so maybe he keeps her bust around as a reminder that good intentions don't get you far enough. I genuinely don't know with this one, and I was unable to find any more info about Dame Ephemial. Grand Duke Eltan - Founder of the Flaming Fist. Later history is kinder to him than accounts from his time, which portray him as a cruel and hard-handed mercenary commander.

According to the same in-game book mentioned previously (Baldur's Gate and the Dialectics of Plunder), he "founded the Flaming Fist as a ruthless mercenary company that slaughtered and burned for pay along the entire length of the Sword Coast". He is also a character in the first Baldur's Gate game and the expansion Baldur's Gate: Siege of Dragonspear. According to the Forgotten Realms Wiki, he was Lawful Neutral and he was known as "steadfast and principled" because of his "tactical genius" and "a sincere belief in maintaining the balance of power among the many small kingdoms of Faerûn". Also apparently he survived a whole lot of assassination attempts. Easy to see why Gortash would see this one as a role model, I think. He is described as a "tactical genius" himself. I also think it's interesting that it says that "later history is kinder to him than accounts from his time". I mean, we know Gortash is huge on propaganda and controlling the narrative. I would imagine he cares how he might be remembered.

#pls enjoy by unnecessarily deep analysis it took me forever lol #enver gortash #bg3 #durgetash #implied durgetash anyway... everything i say is implied durgetash

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traincat · 1 day ago

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i’d pay you real money for that “maybe baby” fic.

You can have it for free, but I do have a ko-fi if anyone is interested: https://ko-fi.com/traincat.

Anyway, the baby fic! Based on Fantastic Four Annual 2010, set nebulously post-Secret Wars (2015). I started this in 2016, so we didn't have any definitive answers for the Fantastic Four's return, but it's not really relevant to the fic anyway. I'm still putting together a list of the other WIPs I'm willing to release, but this is one is easy, so here it is.

Baby fic!

***

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h well this is still less complicated than the time i rescued a highlander

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h aw she likes her uncle benjy @clobberintime #rockstar

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h good thing about this is @peterbparker never checks his phone so he's still gonna be surprised

The first thing Peter registered was the vaguely defensive look on Johnny's face. The second was the baby.

"Wherever you found it, you put it back right now," he said.

The look Johnny gave him was venomous. "Oh, sure. Let me just toss the helpless infant back where she came from! What a great idea, thank you, Peter!"

"I'll get the portal ready," Val said. She was sitting crosslegged way on the other end of the room, holding a tablet computer like a shield and eyeing the baby like she might try to bite her.

"Shush," Johnny said, but it wasn't clear whether he meant it for the baby or Val or possibly for Peter, whose jaw had started making a strange grinding noise of its own volition.

Peter leaned forward to get a better look. The baby had ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes and she was squirming in Johnny's arms even as he hummed and hushed and bounced her up and down, still dressed in his costume. She was so small, wrapped in what looked like one of the shock blankets from the Fantasticar's emergency kit.

"If I put her down, she starts to cry," Johnny confessed.

Peter's heart was doing something disturbingly close to melting. He tugged off a glove and reached out with tentative fingers, stroking soft cheek and wispy dark hair. The baby yawned, barely batting an eye.

Peter looked at Johnny and said, "Why are you doing this to me?"

Johnny wasn't looking at him, though - his gaze was fixed on the baby, eyes soft.

"Look, Peter, you need to know before this part gets out - Reed ran all the tests. She's mine, Pete."

That threw Peter for a loop, but looking for traces of Johnny in the baby's face - yeah, he could see it.

"How? And don't tell me the usual way. Where did she come from?"

Johnny told him: the club, the girl, the supervillain. Peter hissed in sympathy when he hit the part about Psycho Woman spending two months hanging around in Johnny’s brain, touching his fingers to Johnny's temple. Johnny's voice wavered as he got to the end: the fall, the jump, Amy's disappearance through time.

"But time travel's weird. And we've torn everything apart and rebuilt it so many times… Amy never came back after she made the temporal jump," Johnny said, sliding Peter a cautious look, like he thought he might - what, upset? "I've gone looking for her before, but if she was out there, she didn't want me to find her. And then today we were just looking between dimensions, you know?"

"Just your typical Sunday," Peter said, mouth on autopilot while the rest of him was stunned. Johnny's child, here, safe in Johnny's arms - and to think Peter had swung in to ask about dinner and beating up the Shocker.

"Reed found traces of a familiar cosmic radiation signature," Johnny said, shaking his head. "Mine. And then we found her."

"So," Peter echoed, feeling lost. "She's yours. Really yours."

"Yeah," Johnny said, nodding. "She was all alone and in between. But she's alive and she's mine."

Peter leaned his head against Johnny's. "She's a little small for the Future Foundation."

"Well, the weird thing is," Johnny said, smiling, "they don't stay that way for long."

Val put the tablet down and said, "Oh come on, are we seriously not going to throw her back?"

Peter Parker @peterbparker 15m he promised me life would never be boring…

It had been at the end of the world. The incursion had been fast approaching, and this time - this time Peter could feel it in his bones. The end, just over the horizon.

It had scared him more than he ever wanted to admit.

"You're coming with us," Johnny had told him in a voice that brooked no argument. He'd caught Peter's hands in his own inhumanly warm ones, squeezing. "Reed says we'll have time once we're beyond. We'll work something out. We can fix it."

Peter had wanted it, so badly - but. Always the but.

"I should stay with the city. You've got room for, what, a hundred people?"

"Sixty," Johnny admitted, forehead creased in worry. "Peter - you're one of the big brains. You belong with us."

"One of, but not big enough," Peter said. "You need my spot for someone smarter, someone who can help fix this -"

The kiss had been unexpected, a tentative thing, just the soft press of Johnny's lips against his masked mouth, Johnny's fingertips careful as anything underneath his chin.

"You're family," he said, breaking apart, his forehead resting against Peter's. "And you're coming with us. We'll have time."

Peter took a deep shuddering breath and said, "Okay."

He let himself have this one selfish thing, standing on top of the Statue of Liberty with Johnny Storm the day before the end of the world.

He let himself be selfish, and then the raft split apart and Johnny paid the price. He knew it deep in his bones, every second he watched Johnny fall away. Maybe that was why he didn't say anything when they were returned safe and sound to their own world. Or maybe it was cowardice, him waiting for Johnny to make the first move a second time. Maybe it was the way he still remembered blinking the spots from his eyes down in Battleworld, staring at the sun in search of a familiar face.

It didn't matter. He had Parker Industries, and Johnny had moved on with Medusa. Peter had gotten one kiss at their usual spot - if that was all he was granted, well, it was more than enough for two lifetimes. He could live with it.

Except he lost the company, Medusa worked it out with Black Bolt, the missing members of the Fantastic Family returned with a fairly literal bang, and Johnny and Peter ended up crash landing in a rooftop hotel pool.

Parker Luck, doing its very finest.

He'd taken the brunt of the hit, thankful for it - he was more durable than flamed-off Johnny - but the rush of cold water made him gasp, fighting his way to the surface. Johnny surfaced beside him, gasping, and Peter grabbed a handful of his collar. He dragged them both to the shallow end as tourists scattered left and right.

"We're fine, thanks for asking!" Peter shouted after them. "Can anybody grab me a towel?" Johnny was laughing by the time Peter collapsed against the steps, languishing in knee deep water. "New Yorkers. What's so funny?"

"You," Johnny said, looking at Peter with shining eyes. He started laughing again when Peter groaned, shoulders shaking with it. Peter slid a hand over the back of his head, checking for bumps.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Peter said. He told himself to take his hand off Johnny, but he didn't. He just kept touching him, pushing Johnny's soaked hair up off his forehead. Johnny was staring at him, all traces of humor gone from his face. Now or never. Peter swallowed hard. "Johnny, you know I -"

"Just shut up," Johnny said, climbing into Peter's lap. He shoved Peter's soaked mask up over the bridge of his nose, twining his arms around Peter's neck. "Shut up, shut, god, Pete, why don't you ever say anything important?"

The kiss made Peter's head spin -and he had to grab Johnny by the shoulders and put some considerable strength into prying him off just long enough so he could talk.

"Me? What about you?" he said. "I thought - you never said anything when we got back."

"What about me?" Johnny said, pouting a little when Peter wouldn't let him lean forward again. "You're supposed to be the smart one."

Peter couldn't argue with that without walking straight into a trap.

"Dammit," he said, and pulled Johnny back on top of him until security showed up.

May Parker-Jameson @mayparker 3m When you learn important family news from TWITTER of all places

"May - May, I am telling you, I did not know about this," Peter said, standing in the doorway with the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear, one hand in his hair, the other on his hip. "Because I'm pretty sure you knew before me, is why. No, I don't know - I got home and he was holding a baby, okay, that is the extent of the story. He found her. Yeah, like, with a dog - I'm not calling your grandchild a dog, your grandchild, what, whose side are you on?!"

Johnny was laughing at him from the other room, which he thought was completely unfair. Peter threw strangling motions at him, scowling. Johnny stuck his tongue out. The baby cooed.

"Can I put him on the phone? Can I make him explain this to you?" he said, listing to the side until his head hit the doorframe.

"Hi, May!" Johnny called cheerfully, making the baby wave. He was a monster and Peter deeply hated his coalition with his aunt. He zoned back in time to hear "- you're my nephew, I want to hear it from you."

"I'm your nephew, yeah, but he's the one who went time hopping and found his kid." He sobered, rubbing at his forehead. "Honestly, May, I'm telling you, I know as much as you do."

"Well, I could do with knowing her name," May said, clucking her tongue.

Peter blanked. He cupped a hand over the receiver and leaned forward. "Johnny. What's her name?"

Johnny blinked, then looked down at the baby. "Um."

"Yeah, May?" Peter said into the phone. "We're actually going to have to get back to you on that one."

Jennifer Walters @jenatlaw 30m Some days it's just not worth your custom ordered MAC foundation. "Crocodile” btw.

Jennifer Walters @jenatlaw 30m Told the woman I was really more of a shark. She didn't laugh. It's not easy being green, folks.

Jen dropped off paperwork with a lot of eyerolling, a threat of resignation, and an order that the baby be kept away from her.

"This is Stella McCartney," she said, gesturing to her blazer. "You keep that thing out of range."

"Hey!" Johnny protested.

(...)

Jen gave the baby one last warning look and then whirled out on her heels, moloid kids flocking in her wake.

"Auntie Jen is a scary Hulk," Johnny told the baby. The baby gurgled in agreement.

"Auntie Jen heard that!" Jen yelled from the hall. "Start with picking a name! Jennifer's a great one!"

"Have you considered Petunia?" Ben asked nonchalantly.

"I have never and will never consider Petunia," Johnny said blithely. "Next suggestion."

"Howzabout Benjamina?" said Ben.

"No," Johnny said. Peter made a hemming noise and he repeated, forcefully, "No."

"Benita?" Ben said, rocky brows raised high. Peter stifled a snicker with a fake cough, ducking his head.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Johnny asked Ben, scowling.

"I came back from space for this family and this is the treatment I get," Ben grumbled, getting up off the sofa. He paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. His gaze went all soft at the sight of Johnny and the baby. Peter couldn't blame him. "Hey, kid. I'm really happy for ya."

Johnny looked up at him and smiled, tired and real. "Love you too, Rocky."

Ben heaved a great sigh like Johnny's love was some kind of terrible life sentence - Peter knew the feeling - and left the room.

"This is hard," Johnny said, throwing his head back. The baby was asleep in his arms, blissful in her ignorance. "Can I conference in Victor?"

"Please don't," Peter said. He stroked the baby's soft, downy hair with one gentle finger, feeling an equal mix of awe and terror. "Marie?"

"Like Mary?" Johnny said, contemplative. "My mom's name was Mary."

Peter shifted. "Uh, sure. But also like - Marie Curie?"

Johnny looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "Are you serious?"

"She discovered two elements!" Peter said, defensive.

"She died from radiation poisoning!" Johnny said. "I don't care if it worked out for you!"

(...)

"Just in the grand plan for my life, this is not how I thought it'd go," Peter said.

"And then you got bit by a radioactive spider and all the rules went out the window," Johnny said, yawning. "Old news. Pete, you know I'd never ask you to do anything you're not ready for. I want this, but if you don't -"

The sincerity on his face was unbearable. Peter cupped a hand to his face and shut him up the only way that ever really worked.

"Aimee," Johnny said at last. His head fell to Peter’s shoulder; Peter curled a hand in his hair. "After her mom."

"I like it," Peter said, watching her sleep. "Aimee it is."

Aimee Benni Storm was what was written on the birth certificate in the end. Johnny looked Peter straight in the eye and said, "You tell Ben and you're a dead man."

(...)

"See?" Sue said, humming. "Living with the in-laws has its perks. I remember this age - it's a good one. Just wait 'til they can talk back."

"I love you," Peter told her. "Leave Reed and run away with me to Majorca."

Sue smirked, leaning over to palm his cheek. "You're adorable."

"Whoa," Miles said, flipping out of nowhere and matching his swing with Peter's. "Is that a baby?"

"Here," Peter said. "Why don't you hold her for a sec?"

"Oh, I don't, um, okay, wow, hi, baby," Miles stammered when Peter didn't give him much of a choice. Aimee was a sucker for anyone in webs, so Miles ended up making alarmed sounds when tiny hands tried to grab his mask. "When did you get a baby?"

"She's the Human Torch's baby, technically," Peter said, stretching.

Miles looked down, clearly alarmed through the mask. "Is she gonna light on fire too?"

Aimee cooed.

"Nah," Peter said, arms high above his head. "Probably not."

"Peter!" Miles said.

"I am like 98% sure she will remain flame free," Peter said. "But fine, give her back."

Peter was pretty sure the only reason Miles didn't thrust Aimee back was because he was too afraid to make any sudden moves. She made a sleepy, annoyed noise when Peter lifted her from Miles's arms.

"Why do you have the Human Torch's baby?" Miles asked, a very quiet version of shouting.

(...)

"Last chance to keep her," Peter said.

"I'm good," Miles said.

“Okay,” Sue said when she found them in the kitchen at three in the afternoon. Johnny was still in pajamas; Peter was wearing half his spider-suit. Aimee was wearing brunch. “Enough is enough. When was the last time either you left this building?”

“Carjacking,” Peter said, yawning. “Guy dressed like a possum knocking over a Chase. Do I need to go on?”

Johnny was trying to get mashed banana out of his hair. “I don’t know, I think I did something - Tuesday? Was it Tuesday? I had that interview.”

“You cancelled that interview,” Sue told him.

“Huh,” said Johnny, then made an outraged squawking noise when Sue swept in and grabbed the baby from him. “Hey!”

“You’re going out tonight,” Sue said, eyes narrowed. “Together.”

Johnny and Peter stared at each other.

“Together, like, him and me?” Peter said, gesturing between them.

“I think we used to do that,” Johnny said faintly.

“Save the comedy routine,” Sue told them, bouncing Aimee in her arms. All the mashed banana didn’t seem to bother her. She jerked her chin first at Johnny, then at Peter. “You, put on something nice. You - try to do the same. I’m making a reservation for you someplace nice, without supervillains or babies.”

“Do we have to?” Peter asked.

“Can’t we just sleep instead?” Johnny said.

“No,” Sue said. “It’ll be good for you.”

“This is not paying me back for all the times I babysat for you!” Johnny called after her as she carried Aimee from the kitchen down the hall.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sue said. “Ben owes me a favor.”

Johnny scowled at her back. “She took my baby.”

“Aw no,” Peter said, plucking at his spandex. “I’m going to have to wear a dinner jacket, aren’t I.”

Peter came through the door so tired he couldn't see straight, only to have a baby shoved into his arms. Aimee gurgled happily when Peter's arms came up around her automatically.

"Oh no," he said. "Johnny, I'm about to fall over -"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Johnny said, not sounding very sorry at all. He leaned into kiss Peter - that Peter kissed back was muscle memory, he was pretty sure, because the only thing he felt towards Johnny in that second was the sleep-deprived urge to strangle. "I've got that photoshoot, remember? I'll be back soon, I promise. Love you!"

Peter watched him go with narrowed eyes.

"Should we tell him his shirt's on backwards, Firebug?" he asked Aimee. She put her head down against his shoulder with an annoyed sounding little sigh. "No? No." He hummed to her, heading for the couch. "I'm gonna go evil and I'm gonna kill your dad, yes I am. This is my supervillain origin story."

(...)

"Peter? Are you awake?" Franklin whispered.

"M'just resting my eyes," Peter replied.

"Okay," Franklin said hesitantly. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Peter cracked an eye open. "Do you have a Galactus stashed in the basement?"

"No," Franklin said, looking a little put out about it.

"Then go for it," Peter said, yawning.

Franklin was quiet for so long Peter had almost drifted off when he spoke.

"When Dad and Mr. Reece and I were putting the universes back the way they should be… I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I knew Uncle Johnny was going to be lonely without us, and I think I maybe accidentally gave him Aimee back."

Peter rolled over onto his back, fully awake now. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, thoughts tumbling - how unfair it was that any kid in the universe should be able to do what Franklin could. How glad he was that if any kid could, it was Franklin.

"But I think I messed up," Franklin said. "She didn't end up where she was supposed to."

(...)

"Okay," Peter said, "I know this might not be the best kind for this conversation -"

"You are gifted with the understatement!" Johnny shouted as he streaked by a little too close for comfort, a rush of flames and heat.

"Spidey," Johnny said, swooping down to hover in front of him. "Get to the point, please."

"My point," Peter said, as best as he could with Johnny so bright and so hot and so close, "is that we might need a nanny."

Johnny turned his face towards him, his eyes glowing embers and his face barely more than an outline in flickering flames - and then he burst out laughing.

"Oh," he said, darting away. He circled a group of bugs, leaving them huddled together and clacking while Ben bagged them. "Now he wants a nanny. Do you believe this?"

(...)

Ben Grimm @clobberintime 1m when you wanna watch the game and the marrieds + kid are asleep on the couch. what a revoltin development.

Peter woke slowly, drifting in and out of consciousness, too warm and content to care.

"Ben took a photo of us and put it on the internet," Johnny said, waving his phone.

***

And that's the WIP! Not much action, just Johnny and Peter being cute with a baby.

#*replies #spideytorch #myfic

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stylish-fish · 2 days ago

Text

you know what one thing i hope gets further explored in deltarune is the dark fountains and their effects on the darkners, particularly rulers like king and queen. since we know for a fact that the fountains affected them, but it's not entirely clear how, i have written down some thoughts of my own on it. they are mostly just theories and based on what i'd find the most compelling, especially considering the characters, but i do like the ideas i have for that.

first of all, it's confirmed that the fountains did have something about them that affected the rulers. in the undertale 6th anniversary stream, toby fox said that the fountain "changed [the king's] behavior" at around 3:00:14. also, the music trio says this when you talk to them about queen:

i think that the most popular explanation i've seen for this is that the fountains had some magical properties in them that made king's and queen's personalities worse and since they spent a lot of time close to the fountains, they were easily corrupted by them. while this explanation might have been what toby was implying — we don't know — i don't exactly... feel satisfied with this take. i feel like it takes something away from their characters, so i think i'll need to explain this further.

first of all, the king. what we know about his character is that his kingdom was abandoned by the lightners and therefore he swore vengeance and decided to take matters into his own hands. in fact, this is what it says when you check him:

we see him act accordingly: he's extremely agressive towards the lightners in chapter 1 and more passive, but still spiteful towards them in chapter 2. his change of mood between the chapters is often used as proof for the fountain changing his personality, but i think it could also be credited to the total change of environment for him. in chapter 2, he no longer has any power, authority or means to carry out his revenge he was so used to having before. therefore, he sees no point in trying to act aggressive or threatening anymore. also, i'd like to point out the way his info box is worded: the inciting incident that made his heart become "cracked with hatred" wasn't the knight or the fountain appearing but instead being abandoned by the lightners. it makes it clear that he very much wanted to have revenge on lightners even before the fountain appeared, and it's not just a drive the fountain gave him.

speaking of the king's revenge, the way i see the fountain is directly related to that. i see it more as a concrete means to achieve his revenge: something that changed his behaviour because of what it meant to him, rather than directly affecting him through any magical corrupting properties. we see him idolize the knight, despite of them being 100% likely to be a lightner, and i think that's because the knight created something that matters to him. i see it this way: the king became vengeful as his kingdom was abandoned, but as a darkner, he obviously had no way to affect the light world in any way, despite having the motivation to do so. when the knight appeared and created the fountain, he finally had a chance to change the way things were for real and he was happy to take that chance.

i believe the case is similar for queen, as well. her goal is similar to the king (to cover the whole world in darkness and rule it supreme) but her motivation is completely different. while the king wants to create this kind of a world to punish the lightners, queen wants to do it because she genuinely believes it will be an ideal world for them. the fountain obviously matters to her equally as much as it does for the king: the music trio even implies that the way the fountain's creation changed her was basically making her talk about it to no end. we see her try to achieve this goal throughout chapter 2, mainly through pressuring noelle into becoming the new knight and trying to turn the rest of the lightners into her peons. most of her schemes for that are reasonably goofy, but she can be threatening at times and is still very a much an "any means necessary" character. she shows few scruples about threatening to throw berdly to the acid, mind controlling him or capturing noelle and forcing her to create new fountains. she even says this:

she acknowedges that what she's doing might not be good and it might make her an "evil villain", but she doesn't see it as a problem as she believes it's for the best of everyone. in short, she's a very utilitarian person to the extreme. also, she doesn't seem to really consider other people's perspectives before making decisions, instead being sure that she knows what's best for them. i think she had these traits before the fountain as well, being controlling, overly confident in herself and having an "end justifies the means" approach but having a goal to achieve amplified these traits and made her act on them more. she, much like the king, seems to be calmer in castle town and without her own fountain, but i think that's very much for the same reasons as for the king: she doesn't believe she can or should take over the world anymore, and therefore doesn't feel the need to act aggressive to achieve that.

other than being something concrete to achieve their goals and therefore something that matters to them, the fountain could've also been something that affected them through being a liability. on one hand, you have an incredibly powerful tool that can help you finally achieve what you've always wanted, but on the other hand, it could easily be destroyed by lightners if they wanted to and your entire world would be gone should that happen. we see especially the king act territorial over the fountain, as he correctly believes the lightners have come to seal it. it would make sense for the fear of their fountain being sealed and their world being destroyed to affect them both and make them both want to protect it more fiercely.

finally, i also just think that the fountains being something that altered the king's and queen's personalities is something that takes agency away from them. now, as darkners, they inherently have very little agency as deltarune makes very clear: their fates could be completely altered by a snap of a lightner's fingers. in fact, the fountains being created is something that was outside of their both's control as well: had the knight not done that, neither of them could've never carried out their plans. however, it's important to me that despite this, both of them still have some agency.

the king is a character who very desperately wants to have agency and power. he rejects the power dynamic between lightners and darkners, being a darkner who resists lightners and wants to create a new world where his kind is no longer oppressed by them (he also wants more than that... instead of wanting to actually get rid of the power dynamic he just wants to turn it around, having lightners be below darkners instead. essentially, fixing injustice with a different kind of injustice). queen, on the other hand, is a darkner whose motivation still very much revolves around serving lightners. she wants to make them happy. however, instead of having the lightners make choices for themselves and darkners, she wants to be the one who makes choices for them. she very likely believes she's the only one capable of making such choices and decisions: even in her introduction, she calls kris and susie "foolish children" and herself a "computer (smart)". as a computer, she believes she's intelluctually superior to the lightners, she should control them because it's good for them. in short, it's important for both king's and queen's characters that they make choices, actual choices that matter.

so in conclusion? this is the way i like to see the fountains: as a powerful thing that both king and queen saw as useful for their goals and therefore found extremely important. again, there are a lot of other possible directions this could be taken to, so i'm not entirely against the idea of this turning out to be 100% false, lol. either way, i'm interested to see what toby does with this concept in the next chapters.

#my ramblings #deltarune #queen deltarune #king deltarune #deltarune theory

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persephone-writes · 1 day ago

Text

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Hourglass

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Twenty-Two ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: You try your best to help Sirius with his brother, even if it means trusting your abilities in Divination more than ever before.

Word Count: 7.9k

You were unable to find Sirius, at least while you were in Hogsmeade. After a few hours meandering around the village with only a vague interest in the shops, James, Peter, and Remus went back to the Three Broomsticks to see if Sirius was drowning his sorrows in butterbeer…or a half dozen shots of firewhiskey. You and Lily split up to check the shrieking shack, however unlikely it may be that he would go there of all places, and Marlene and Dorcas walked the streets as a last ditch effort. None of you were able to locate him.

With a dark cloud hanging over your heads, you all left Hogsmeade in the early evening before dinner, your steps slow and dragging down the path towards the castle. As she had done while you searched the shack, Lily tried to look on the bright side of things.

“It’s probably a good sign we haven’t found him. It means he’s probably still with his brother.”

James, whose hands were shoved into his pockets and his head hung, lifted his face for a second, his eyes finding hers. “Or it went badly and he's gone to hide.”

“Do you really think Regulus would attack him?” Marlene asked in a whisper.

“Not that kind of hiding,” James muttered, his gaze finding the ground once again.

Remus kicked a pebble with the tip of his shoe, sending it skidding along the path before it fell into the grass, hidden within the green. “He’ll be back tonight,” was all he said, his voice betraying his hopeful words.

The short conversation hit another lull, leaving you to stew in your own thoughts, however melancholy they may be. You wished you had a prediction, an inkling, anything to tell you what would happen with Regulus, though you were just as blind as everyone else. You could try, you supposed, stealing another few eggs from the kitchens or borrowing Steve Zielinski’s crystal ball. Even so, you had serious doubts that your elementary skills would result in anything substantial in the way of Regulus’s future.

You all went straight to the Great Hall with the measly hope you’d find Sirius already sitting at the table, though he was nowhere to be found. It was lively tonight, fueled by Hogsmeade and the promise of no classes the following morning, though your group added nothing to the exuberance. You ate in relative silence, save for the sound of Remus repeatedly stabbing slices of pork chops with the thick metal prongs to add onto his plate. You lingered there until the very last scattering of students began to get up to leave, your group eventually following.

“I wonder where he is,” Marlene mumbled, her voice barely discernible despite the fact that you were standing right beside her.

You trudged up the staircase towards the tower, trying to think of a suitable thing to say. You had no clue where he could be, if he was still with his brother or not, or if James was right and he was tucked away somewhere wallowing in the agony of his brother's future. You didn’t dare bring up the latter point again, not when you could see the hurt behind Marlene’s eyes. You hadn’t pressed her on the topic of Sirius lately, though you had a good enough idea that it was bothering her more than she was letting on.

“Remus is right,” you began, speaking close to her ear. “He’ll be back tonight.”

☆ ─────── ₒ*ₒ☾ ☽ₒ*ₒ ─────── ☆

It was another early morning on Sunday, though a dream had not been what awoke you. Dorcas was snoring again, having forgotten to cast a silencing charm. Marlene and Lily appeared unaffected, neither stirring behind the curtains of their four-posters. It was a wasted effort to fall back asleep, so you gave in to the early morning sunlight. You dressed for the day, lugging your books into the common room like you had done a thousand times before, hoping that you could make some use of your extra time.

Sirius had not come back the previous night, at least not to the common room before you went to bed. You assumed he must have staggered up to his room at some point, the need to sleep likely overpowering his desire to self isolate.

Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of him as you set your books on to one of the common room tables, flattening out a roll of parchment as you flipped one open. You’d have to actually practice Transfiguration later, though notes would do for now. It was as good a way as any to rid your mind of what your friends had said to you the day before, Lily’s words breaking through most of all. “Even if you don’t have the sight, you’re gifted, more than you give yourself credit for.” Trusting one’s gut was always a good thing, though their confidence in your abilities was reaching James-level trust. You couldn’t even figure out your own future, much less anyone else’s. Lily always was too kind to you.

Your quill tapped against your parchment as your eyes glazed across the same sentence over and over, your mind refusing to accept the words into recognition. Like a fist banging on a door, your problems would not allow you to focus on anything else. You couldn’t shake what you had thought the evening before, the ideas that had popped into your head on the way back to the castle…

You didn’t bother removing your things from the common room, rather gathering them into a neat pile and shoving it to the far side of the table. Without much of a plan other than going to the kitchens, you left the tower, making the long trek down to the basement. The castle was completely silent, though the kitchens were anything but.

As soon as you pushed open the painting you were met with various clatters coming from the far rooms, the house elves moving swiftly to and from the pantry, weaving around one another as if they could predict the others movements. Silver trays floated in the air behind them, bags of flour sent flurries of powder as they were plopped onto the floor, whisks spun rapidly in massive bowls of batter. It was controlled chaos, and you only hoped that your presence wouldn’t push it over the edge into complete disarray.

“Excuse me,” you muttered as you tried to walk between them, though you were less talented at knowing just where they were about to step than they were. A few looked up at you with furrowed, irritated brows, others ignoring you completely.

It was only when you made it to the pantry that you heard the sound of your name. You spun around, finding Isby staring at you from across the room, her large ears pulled back.

“Isby,” you said, trying to soften her hardened eyes. Her hands were on her hips, her little feet stomping towards you as you smiled. “Good morning.”

“Miss L/N never said she would not be returning,” she grumbled, glaring up at you. “I hads to call on the Headmaster, I was so worried.”

The regret over forgetting about Isby hit you instantly like a cannonball to your chest. In all honesty, you thought she’d be happy not to have so many students piling into the kitchens so often.

“I’m sorry, Isby,” you said, trying your best to show your sincerity. “I didn’t know you’d worry.”

“Professor Dumbledore put Isby in charge of your care in the kitchens. Isby takes her job very seriously,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Everythings all right now,” you said, though you weren’t sure how truthful that really was. “Professor Dumbledore had it taken care of.”

“Taken care of,” she said under her breath, her large eyes darting across the floor. She glanced up again, her ears shifting back to their normal position. “I has forgiven you.”

You smiled warmly, crouching down to meet her at eye level. “Thank you, Isby, for everything.”

“Miss L/N must stay out of trouble,” she began, briefly looking around at the other house elves, still bustling around the room. “Isby must go.”

You stood back up, watching as she disappeared in the pandemonium, which now appeared more like a hive of busy bees than house elves.

You gathered a few eggs, a bowl, and a pastry for later, wrapping it up in a napkin before making yourself a small space at one of the house elf sized tables, smiling at the memory of sitting there with James. You didn’t let yourself think of it long, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Setting the bowl in front of you, you thought of Regulus as you cracked the first egg above it, imagining Sirius running towards him through the Hogsmeade bustle. You peered down, watching as it splattered against the sides. You hummed to yourself, searching for any discernable shape or pattern that you recognized from your textbooks, though at first glance, you noticed nothing. Maybe ovomancy wasn’t for you.

After a few more minutes of trying to make out some sign, you gave up, waving your wand and getting rid of the first egg. The kitchen was still loud, filled with the hissing sound of sausages and eggs frying followed shortly by their smell, the oven doors opening and slamming shut over and over, the pitter-patter of a hundred little feet flying across the stone floors. You rested your elbows on your knees, your head falling into your hands as you tried to shut it all out. With your eyes closed, you tried to think of Regulus again, this time imagining something you hadn’t seen.

Regulus, his black hair slicked neatly back, his grey eyes like storm clouds, a color you could see even from passing him in busy corridors, his pale arm, held out as a wand touched his skin, an inky mark creeping its way onto the surface, the same one you had seen in the Prophet, suspended in the sky above the scene of a wicked crime.

Quickly, you opened your eyes, grabbing the second egg and cracking it a ways above the bowl. It splattered in the same manner, hitting the bottom before moving up the sides like waves in a tempest, nearly spilling over the lip. Your keen eyes stared as it settled, shifting back and forth before slowing, the clear white marbling in the broken yolk. Just when you thought it was finished, the deep yellow began to swirl once more, refusing to remain stagnant as its predecessor had. You held your breath without meaning to, your jaw clenching as it took a new shape, forming with other wayward blobs to create new masses, separating from others in the opposite manner. In a few seconds, you could see the picture it was forming, distinct against the white of the egg. An hourglass.

With a quivering hand you flicked your wand again, the egg disappearing and leaving the bowl clean. You could feel your breath shuddering too, your eyes staring blankly at the kitchen in front of you. Without much thought, you grabbed your pastry, forgetting the bowl as you walked from the kitchen out into the basement corridor, your mind mostly blank. You felt half asleep as you made your way back to the common room, your feet feeling as if you had heavy, metal boots on, like the ones on the knights in the Entrance Hall. You weren’t sure you had gotten anything clearer in your entire life, and for whatever reason, it frightened you beyond belief.

When you made it back to the common room there were only a few students mulling about, their curious eyes following you as you went over to the table where your things were piled, taking them into your arms before you flew up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories. Ever since the public display of near-violence between James, Sirius, and Zephyr, it was difficult to shake your housemates' newfound interest in you. Still, you were thankful no one seemed to be brave enough to press you on it, ironically enough. You likely had James to thank for that.

Your roommates were awake when you slammed the door behind you, the pastry still clucked between a napkin in your hand. They all stared at you, each with the same perplexed expression.

“Where’ve you been?” Lily asked, folding up a jumper to put back into her trunk.

“Studying,” you said, motioning with your books. You looked down into your other hand, noticing the pastry had been all but decimated. “Went to the kitchens, too. Do you want this, Dorcas?”

She smiled, waltzing over to take the pastry from you, not phased by the fact that it had been flattened. “This’ll hold me over,” she chuckled, taking a bite out of it.

You dropped your books off at your desk before getting ready for breakfast, even though you had already done everything you needed to this morning. Your friends waited patiently as you idled in the lavatory, saying nothing as you paced the small room. You ran the faucet, just so it would sound like you were doing something rather than wasting their time. You hadn’t the mind to feel guilty about it, staring at your reflection in the mirror as if your eyes, backwards from the way the world saw you, held the answer of what you should do. With your thoughts a little less scrambled, you were able to reason that Sirius had not gotten a straight answer out of Regulus. It was likely his brother was still debating over what he should do, though just as it had been a week prior, Regulus’s time to decide was running out.

You shut off the water, rubbing at the crease between your brows before facing your friends once again, your mind marginally clearer.

“You didn’t see Sirius at all, did you?” Lily asked as you walked down to breakfast.

“No,” you said, your mouth pulling to the side. “I hope he’s doing all right, or as good as he can be.”

“James won’t let him hide for too long,” said Lily, her voice suddenly brighter than yours, less weighed down. You didn’t know where she got her serenity from, but you wanted some of your own.

Sirius was at breakfast, though he looked like he’d been run over by a pack of hippogriffs and then dunked head first into the Black Lake. There were deep purple bags under his eyes, bold against the sickly pallor of his skin. He was worse than you’d ever seen him before, almost as if he were deathly ill, and distinctly depressed. His countenance was no better than his looks, his shoulders rounded forward, his neck angled downward towards his plate, nearly empty save for the sausage and toast Remus had given him. He touched nothing, not even his tea.

You, and surely your dormmates, were all itching to ask him the same question: how did it go? Though, no one dared to say a word about it. A few meaningless, hollow comments about classes and quidditch were thrown out just to break the tension a bit, but little else was said. It was probably just a victory they had gotten him down here, you realized, making it unlikely any would try and push their luck.

“You should come to the library with us,” Lily said to the others as you all stood to leave the Great Hall. You had forgotten you had made plans with her to do so. “First thing after breakfast, Y/N. We need to start seriously preparing!”

“Who?” James asked.

Lily shrugged. “All of you.”

You knew what she was trying to do, though it didn’t seem like she was attempting to hide it too thoroughly. James looked to Sirius, though his eyes were far off, staring straight ahead as you left the hall.

“You wanna go, Padfoot?” James asked.

Briefly, Sirius’s eyes drifted towards James, his mouth barely moving as he mumbled, “Sure.”

With Sirius’s blessing, that meant Remus and Peter would follow, or so you hoped. You all went back to the common room to get your things before going back down the library, your assumption being correct. Remus lugged more books in his bag than any of you, even Lily, who seemed to bring almost her entire eight-class course load. Peter seemed to obey only for Sirius’s sake, looking almost as upset as him as you found your places at one of the only free tables large enough for all of you to fit. The library was fairly full, just as it was every weekend, though the fact that you were nearing the end of term only made it more congested. The only reason you were likely able to get a table with eight chairs was due to Lily’s instance of getting there so early.

Unconsciously, you found yourself sitting beside James, taking out your things from your bag without so much of a thought about your choice. As soon as you flipped open your advanced Astronomy textbook, the realization of his closeness sent a flurry of nerves through your stomach like a jolt of energy before it faded away. It was getting more difficult to force yourself away from him during casual moments, moments when you weren’t thinking about how you ought to act or where you should look. The longer you two were together, really together, the more you had to fight against it, even more so than you had before. It was if you floated to his side, pulled in by a gravitational force of blinding, warm light that seemed to radiate off of him at all times. As you attempted to continue jotting down your notes, hoping you were acting inconspicuous, you realized that he probably did the same, though you just hadn’t noticed, too caught up in the sight of him to recognize if you had walked closer or if he had beat you to it.

At one head of the table, Sirius sat in a grumpy stupor, his eyes still agonized by heavy, drooping lids. He sat back in his chair, not bothering to look down at any of his school work, which you were sure had been piling up for him over the past week. You peeked at him out of the corner of your eye, your leg bouncing as you thought of a way to get James alone so you could pester him for details.

Your quill hovered above your parchment as you decided what to do, giving in to your first instinct after only a brief moment of deliberation. You scribbled something down in the margins, slanted to the right so that James could read it more easily. You glanced up, looking around at the rest of your friends. They all were fairly engrossed in their own work, other than Sirius and Peter, though neither were looking your way. Lily, the most important person to consider, was staring down into a giant, leather-bound book, her brows scrunched as she muttered the words so softly you couldn’t hear.

Your eyes darted back towards James as you tapped the tip of his shoe with yours, trying not to lose yourself in the picture of his face, downturned towards his own work, his lips barely parted. His head perked up, turning towards you as his glasses slipped down his nose. Instantly, your eyes shot back down to your own paper, inching it closer to him. He took your meaning immediately, reading your parchment as you went back to pretending to study.

Follow me in five minutes.

After a few seconds you folded up the parchment, sticking it into your textbook before closing it. You stood, taking your copy of Advanced Astronomy into your arms before heading towards the stacks. You only got a few steps away before Marlene turned around, watching you leave.

“Where’re you going?” she asked, whispering.

Remus and Dorcas’s head popped up as well, though Lily stayed entirely occupied, lost in her reading.

“I have to cross reference something on pulsars, you know, the type of neuron star that—”

“Forgive me for asking,” she mumbled, turning back around.

You spun on your heels before anyone could see your triumphant smirk, all too pleased with yourself as you escaped into the long rows of tall shelves, twisting and turning like a labyrinth in the wide space. You didn’t go far, ducking away beside one of the large, pointed windows, the morning light washing the dark wood with golden light. You leaned against the shelf, your fingers tapping against your book as you watched a few students pass, all quiet as a mouse.

It was definitely less than five minutes when James found you, or rather you found him, stepping out into the aisle as you watched him whizz by. Any other time you would have chastised him for it, though you knew it was the last thing he needed.

“James,” you whispered, catching his wrist.

As your hand slipped away he grabbed it, holding you as he swiveled his head around to see if anyone was watching.

“We need to talk,” you said, “but not here.”

He nodded, letting go of your hand as you walked as quickly as you could without it reasonably counting as a jog to the furthest, most undisturbed corner of the library. It was the same place you had gone after Zephyr reappeared in Gryffindor Tower, when James had guarded you so fiercely you couldn’t believe you didn’t realize he was in love with you.

“What happened with Regulus?” you asked, your voice still hushed.

James’s face fell, his expression so grim it made your chest ache. “He talked to him, but he doesn’t think it made any difference.”

Your heartbeat quickened, dread mixing with the awful concoction already churning in your stomach. “What did he say? What did Regulus say?”

“I think the main gist of what Regulus said was ‘butt out’ and ‘fuck off’,” James answered, his expression pained as he imagined it.

“He didn’t seem unsure, or like he might not go through with it?” you asked, some of your hope drifting away. You longed to grasp it, force it back towards you where you could hold to it as long as possible.

“Padfoot didn’t say much,” he sighed, running a hand through his curls, dark in the low light. “But I’m not entirely sure I trust him, either. He’s never had a clear head when it comes to his brother.”

You thought for a moment, your textbook held tightly against your chest. “Did he offer a place for him to stay— with him, in London?”

“They already live in London.”

“You know what I mean,” you said, staring at him expectantly.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, shaking his head. His hands came down to his hips, his head slumped forward for a beat. “We’re just lucky he’s out with the living right now. I didn’t exactly push him for answers,” there was a clip to his tone, though you knew it wasn’t because of you.

Sirius was your friend, but he was James’s best friend. You knew he had a way of taking things on, carrying burdens even if it wouldn’t lighten the others load. It was one of his best traits, something that made you love him even more, though his innate dramatism did not help him in hiding it.

You set your book down on the table, stepping back in front of him so he had to look you in the eyes. He did without question, his irises shaded by his lashes, heavy in your quiet corner. You stroked his cheek, warm to the touch, frowning all the while. You hated every bit of all of it; the immeasurable amount of pain Sirius was feeling, the uncertain fate of Regulus, and James’s breaking heart. While not your top priority, you tried to soothe him the best you could, running your fingers along his hairline.

“We can help him,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear. You tried to think of something else to say to ease some of his worries, though all you could settle on was an ill-fated statement that you knew he would argue against. You said it anyway. “It’s no different than the way it was before, when he thought Regulus was lost.”

“I’m not sure he ever thought he was lost,” he said with a sadness trembling in his voice, his eyes fluttering shut. He brought his hand up to rest over yours, keeping it in place. When he opened his eyes again, he let out a short, worn breath, laced with the unmistakable sting of sorrow. “I think he always thought there was a chance…that maybe one day Regulus would, I don’t know, change his mind.”

Your face crumbled, though you caught yourself, forcing a brave front, even if you knew James would be able to see through it all too easily. It was always worth a try, if it were for him.

“There's still a chance. Like you said, you don’t know what really happened. Who knows how Sirius is interpreting it,” you paused, your eyes drifting from his. “This morning I went down to the kitchens before anyone else woke up— I couldn’t sleep. I tried ovomancy, y’know, the egg thing?”

You looked back up, James nodding.

“I thought of Regulus, just to see if I really could predict his future, or at least get a reading,” you continued, taking a breath that shuddered in your lungs. “I saw an hourglass, which seems pretty self explanatory.”

A flash of horror crossed James’s face, though you pressed your palm tighter to his face, cupping his jaw.

“No, no, James, this is good. It means he hasn’t decided. If he was certain, or fairly certain, why would time be running out? It would already be out.”

Horror was replaced by realization, realization by a faint glimmer of hope. He pressed his lips to yours quickly, pulling away before you could even register what he had done. He broke out into an astonished smile as he looked back at you, laughing quietly to himself.

“You’re amazing,” he breathed. “Bloody amazing.”

You shook your head at him, using the freedom of your newly released hand to brush a curl behind his ear. “It’s nothing, really—”

“It’s everything,” he said, grabbing your hand to cradle it against his chest, fully enveloped between his. “When are you going to realize how gifted you are, how special this is? I’ll prop you up forever if I have to— actually, I’ll do it even if you do realize— but you should start giving yourself some credit,” his voice dripped with honeyed warmth, his words rushing out in a low voice fighting against exultation.

You didn’t know what to say, forgetting how to speak, though you didn’t need to. James was off again, still caught up in the excitement of your discovery.

“You have to tell Sirius. You don’t mind, right? You don’t have to, but I think we should—”

“Of course, I will,” you interrupted. “I didn’t know when it would be the right time. He’s very…fragile right now.” It felt odd to say, wrong to call Sirius such a term. He was strong, almost impossibly so, though there was no other word you could think of that would adequately capture what you saw today. You couldn’t blame him, either. If it were you, you would’ve been a heap on the floor years ago, absolutely useless.

James’s thumb rubbed across the back of your hand, gnawing at his lip as he considered what you said. “You’re right. I’ll find a good time to do it, maybe tonight. For now, could you keep it between us? I think he’d be pretty peeved if everyone else knew before him.”

“Of course,” you said with a single nod.

After a beat James reached up to cradle your face, kissing your forehead before letting out a single, small laugh into your skin. “My girl’s hot and she can predict the future.”

You scowled at him, hitting his arm softly. “It's not a prediction, it’s a reading,” you corrected, your ears burning up. You hoped he couldn’t feel the heat in your face, though you were fairly certain that he could, and that he was probably reveling in it.

“And brilliant,” he said, still beaming. He pressed the back of his hand onto the side of your neck with a smirk, sending a shiver down your spin. “You are hot, though. Was it something I said?”

“I think I have dragon pox. It’s highly contagious. You better get away from me or you’ll catch it,” you said, your voice flat.

He laughed, a bit too loud for the library, though you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. His eyes shined, some of his earlier worries gone, at least for the moment. You were happy to have done it, even if you knew it wouldn’t last.

“You’re worth a trip to Poppy’s.”

He leaned in, kissing you a bit longer this time, dragging it out just to the edge of something more, something fuller. When he stepped away he still looked impish, motioning for you to follow as he slipped back into the winding shelves towards the main aisle. You grabbed your textbook to follow him, shaking your head.

☆ ─────── ₒ*ₒ☾ ☽ₒ*ₒ ─────── ☆

You guessed James must have found a time to tell him, because all throughout breakfast on Monday, Sirius kept stealing glances your way. You weren’t sure if he was trying to hide it or not, though every once in a while you’d catch him peeking up from his food, his eyes darting over to your face before returning back to something else in a quick, flashing movement. After the first couple of times you turned away from him, allowing him to stare at you without the embarrassment of being caught, though you weren’t sure it was even possible for you to embarrass Sirius. Like James, it took true humiliation to knock away his front of pure confidence.

After breakfast, Remus and Peter went off to do who-knows-what, leaving you and Dorcas to go back up to the tower while the rest went to a double period of Arithmancy, a subject you were quite happy to never have taken. The two of you sat on the overstuffed red sofa by the fireplace, surrounded by other sixth and seventh years with free periods doing the same thing as yourself. It was warm enough that a fire was unnecessary, its melody of crackles and pops strangely absent from the usual noises of the common room. Now, it was simply hushed voices or a stray laugh, the scratching of quills and the turning of pages.

As you did your homework, the sounds began to wear on you, mixing with one another in a low cacophony of jagged, disjointed parts to an awful song. You fiddled with your quill, your jaw tight as your eyes bore holes into the page. You could feel your heart beginning to bang, harder and harder, against your chest. Soon, the air was suffocating, leaving you no other choice but to pop up from the sofa in a sudden jerk.

Dorcas looked up at you, pushing her thick, curling hair from her face as she watched you gather your books. “What's wrong?’

“Nothing,” you muttered, glancing around you at the other students. A few were watching you, some of whom you knew quite well, though none brave enough to meet your eyes once you caught there's. The beating of your heart had not slowed, leaving you unconcerned with the curiosity of your classmates. Briefly, you wondered if you were going mad from stress.

Your daze was only broken by Dorcas, who said your name as you began to walk away. She stood up, though you only shook your head, ducking out of the common room like a rabbit being chased by a fox.

You didn’t need a crystal ball to predict what would happen in your future. “What's up with you? Why are you acting so weird? Is anything wrong?” The gentler questions would come from Lily, though the meanings would all be the same. It wouldn’t matter, though, because this time you could tell them. With Sirius in the know, the only silver lining was that for once, you didn’t have to keep secrets.

Even so, you knew Sirius would be furious with you for meddling in his family life, in his life, using a form of magic he placed no weight into. While he was kind enough to keep his comments to mere jokes, you knew how he truly felt. He thought you were foolish for believing that you, who wasn’t even a Seer, could somehow gain any insight into the future. You also had a sneaking suspicion that fate (or at least the very probable chance that something would happen), terrified him to no end. He had already been dealt a bad hand, and you couldn’t blame him for raging against the idea that it all was set in the stars, that he had little control of what happened to him next.

You agreed with him, at least in part, for one always had the power to change their decisions, to decide on a different course. But how often do people change their minds once they’ve started on a certain path? You didn’t know, and the uncertainty of the answer haunted you as you rushed through the corridors, your feet seeming to know where you were going better than you did. The walls faded into a blur of limestone pillars and carvings, the puffs of orange flames turning into streaks of vibrant color against the grey.

You found yourself on the fourth floor, turning into the empty classroom you had frequented a dozen times before. You weren’t sure if you were planning on taking the mirror passage into Hogsmeade, hide away in its cavern, or stare into the mirror itself, though all of these choices were made moot when you saw Sirius standing in the room. His back was to you, staring into the mirror. As soon as you opened the door he turned around, his eyes widening. He fixed himself quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets as she sauntered closer to you, completely at ease.

“Hey, L/N,” he drawled, though his mouth was missing the teasing smirk that so often went with that tone.

“Hey,” you said, just barely getting the words out. He still looked sickly, only slightly better than yesterday. His hair was pulled back into a low, loose bun, strands sticking out in a state of dishevelment. Normally, it would have seemed suave on him, perfectly imperfect, though now it looked just as it would on anyone else: frowzy. “Bunking off?”

He shrugged, his shoulders falling in a heavy, dead movement. “Double period. It gets pretty boring after an hour and a half,” he said, sounding wearier the more he spoke. He looked down at his uniform dress shoes, polished and shining. “Didn’t know that breakfast food knew the future.”

You chuckled softly, meandering further into the room. “It’s not really the eggs that know, it’s just how they fall. I do all the heavy lifting.”

You were overjoyed to hear him laugh, even if it was strained.

“Even though I don’t believe in any of that shite,” he began, a forced smile creeping on his lips, “thanks for not telling anyone else. You know how fucking fussy they can be.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m still too angry with you to pamper,” you joked.

He raised his brows. “Then why’d you read my brother's future?”

“That was a favor to Regulus,” you said with a wave of your hand. “He owes me, but he doesn’t know it yet. One day I’ll make him buy me something nice and expensive, y’know, to call it even.”

You knew he was far too clever to miss what you were implying, though it’d take a lot to miss it. Regulus will come back to you. You weren’t even sure if you were that confident, though Sirius didn’t need to know.

He rocked a bit on his toes, his head turning sharply away. His mouth fell, twisting into a doleful grimace. “I’ll pass on the message,” he mumbled, the words gritting between his clenched teeth.

Your heart panged, your fingers tightening around the spine of your book. You knew you shouldn’t be joking about it, taking things so lightly. Your apologies rushed out, much like Marlene’s had, escaping you before you could stop them, “I’m— Merlin…I’m sorry, Sirius. I know that I shouldn’t have meddled in your life. I feel awful about it, really.”

He sighed, looking back at you once you were finished. “You’re unbelievable.” He shook his head, chuckling bitterly. “You’re a real fucking guilt machine, aren’t you?”

His anger all seemed to flow inward, absorbed into his own chest before any of it could reach you. You watched his face distort again, his brows angled and pinched.

“What?” you asked, taking a hesitant step towards him, just to test the waters.

He was still chuckling, though it was sour, ugly in the air. “Meddle all you want, Y/N, I don’t care about any of it. I fucked with you for how long?” He motioned to you, letting his hand drop against his leg. “I was a dick, and you keep forgiving me. I’m a dick to everyone and somehow none of you will leave me alone,” his volume rose, exasperated as he continued on.

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, coming to stand only a foot away from him. “Stop it, Sirius. This is— you’re not thinking clearly. We’re your friends, we understand. You don’t have to be happy-go-lucky all the time.”

“Why aren’t you upset with me about Marlene? What about that?” he asked, trying to egg you on.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “She’s over it, so there’s no reason for me to hold a grudge on her behalf. I know I wouldn’t want her to, if it were me.”

“We both know she’s not over it,” he muttered, entirely different from how he was a moment ago. He was smaller now, whatever had been building within him settling to a low, ruminating simmer.

“It’s fine, Sirius. It's a teenage romance. By the summer she’ll be good as new, and probably dating someone else,” you said, hoping your words were true.

He didn’t speak for a long moment, sucking on his teeth while his eyes ran along the floor. You waited patiently, studying his tortured expression.

“James really loves you, you know. It’s disgusting,” he whispered with no humor despite his clear attempt at jest.

You filled your lungs with air, slowly letting it out. “I know.”

“And I thought Lily was bad,” he said, chuckling a bit this time. His eyes, brilliantly grey, met yours. “When we’re alone I never hear the end of it.”

A smile twitched in one corner of your mouth, though your face was still dominated by a growing sadness. “Must be awful for you.”

He began to walk away, his steps slow and uncalculated, moving at his first instinct in no clear direction.

“With Lily it was all lovey-dovey, gushy stuff,” he mocked, sending a sharp pang through your nerves, though he couldn’t see, turned away from you. “I didn’t think it could get worse than that, but Merlin, was I wrong.”

A strange feeling of relief washed over you, easing a flash of worry that somehow James’s obsession with Lily was greater than his for you. You felt guilty for it, though you couldn’t allow yourself the time to dissect the meaning.

Sirius laughed under his breath, his head bent towards the floor. It was another long pause before he continued, the ache in his voice poorly disguised through his whisper, “It’s the same way his parents are. I mean, they don’t go on and on about how in love they are with each other in front of me,” he let out a breathy laugh again. “But you can tell, when you look at them.”

Your feet might as well have been glued to the floor. If you wanted to move, you couldn’t, frozen in place as you listened to him. His voice was crushing, full of a pain so foreign to you that your mind could not wrap around it.

“I don’t think he knows how lucky he is to have parents like that. He knows, in a way— it’s not hard when you have me as a comparison,” he faltered, clearing his throat. “I’m not sure my parents ever really loved each other. I can’t really imagine either of them loving anyone.” He stopped walking, his hand resting on one of the small, wooden desks. “I guess it’s not hard to understand why he’s good at it and I’m not. It’s so bloody easy for him. If he were anyone else I’d fucking hate him.”

Your mind reeled, wondering why he was choosing to tell you this. Perhaps it was self-retribution, you thought, for all the secrets of yours he somehow found out about. Still, even though he had acted poorly, even though he had been a bad friend, you didn’t know if you deserved to hear any of this.

“You could go back there, you know,” you said, somehow finding your voice. It was small, but enough. “The Potter’s would have you back in a second, if you asked.”

He nodded, peeking over his shoulder. Your eyes met briefly before he looked away again. “Yeah, I know.”

“If you bought Marlene a butterbeer, she’d go out with you again,” you said, trying to force some lightness into your words. It seemed to have worked, for his shoulders shook in what you assumed to be a silent laugh.

When he didn’t say anything, you continued, “I know I said she’ll get over it, and I wasn’t lying, but she doesn’t have to.” That seemed to catch his attention, his head picking up. “She still likes you, Sirius, but she’s also still a little livid. If you treat her like a normal boyfriend she’ll be head over heels in no time. You might have to…repair some damage, but it’ll work out, if you want it to.”

“If I want it to,” he repeated, an edge to his tone.

You ignored it, nodding even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah, if you don’t drop her like you do with everyone else,” you said softly, trying to ease some of the harshness of your words. Still, you cringed as you said it. “I think it would be good for you, good for her, too. I really think that one day you might love her as much as James loves me. But even if you don’t, even if it doesn’t work out, at least you can say that you tried, that you gave it your best shot.”

You wondered if you were talking about Marlene or Regulus, though you weren’t sure it mattered. The point stood for both, whether Sirius liked it or not.

“Can’t you just hex me again?” he said, finally turning around. His brows were raised, his face otherwise blank.

“Maybe some other time,” you said, matching his expression. You studied him as he walked closer, passing you as if he was heading to leave. You spun around, wanting desperately to stop him, to keep him here just a little while longer, where he was forced to listen to you. “Did James tell you what I thought it meant, the hourglass?”

Sirius stopped, spinning back around. His face was dragged down, his eyes tired. “Yeah.”

“Then you know,” you began, your lingering sliver of hope for Regulus building back up again. “It means he isn’t settled, he’s undecided. Snape was right.”

His name made Sirius recoil a bit, as if his body was ridding itself of a mild poison. His jaw set, the rest of his body tensing. “If I promise to try, will you leave me alone?”

You couldn’t help your smile, not wide enough to show your teeth, but enough to show him that you were pleased. “I cross my heart.”

“You’ve got a deal, sister,” he said, whipping open the door and striding out, not looking back as it shut behind him.

The bell tower rang, marking the end of second period. You had to go to History of Magic, though you were surely going to be late, given that your bag was all the way up in Gryffindor Tower. However, you still couldn’t help but turn around towards the mirror, drawn in by the image you knew you’d see. It wasn’t as if Professor Binns would notice your tardiness, anyway.

Slowly, you walked towards it, tall and proud where it was sitting in the corner. The nearer you got, the clearer the image became, materializing like a ghost beside you. James was standing next to you, nearly pressing against your shoulder. He held the same bright smile that you loved the most, easy and entirely unforced. His hair was a mess of wild curls, barely tamed, wearing the jeans that always sent your cheeks ablaze. Every few seconds he would glance at you in the reflection, the happiest he could be, his own face blushing when he met your eyes. It was the same thing that you’ve seen for over a year, though now you knew it was real, more than just a fantasy. The only difference was your hands, each wearing a ring.

☆ ─────── ₒ*ₒ☾ ☽ₒ*ₒ ─────── ☆

After classes on Tuesday, you and James retreated to the east side of the lake, too far for anyone to see anything other than two blurry dots, sometimes shifting amongst the grass. The transistor radio rested beside you, playing an acoustic song that you knew but James didn’t. You hummed along to the tune, your back against his chest as you gazed out across the water, the sunlight warm against your face. James kissed the side of your head, resting his cheek against you.

You already told him about your conversation with Sirius, leaving out everything but his promise to try and get through to his brother. James was happy to have heard that, though you could still feel it in the way he carried himself, in the way he was playing with your fingers, that it had lifted very little weight from his worries.

“I like this song,” you said when it changed to another, just as slow. “This DJ has good taste.”

The water lapped at the shallow shore, mixing with the fingerpicking, the soft accent of the man singing about love.

“This one, I know,” James said, his voice rumbling against your back.

You chuckled, twisting your head to look at him. “How cultured of you.”

He pouted at your teasing, his brows pinched as he reached up to touch the side of your face, feather light along your jaw. “Good thing I have thick skin, around you,” he grumbled, moving down to the side of your neck. His thumb brushed just under your chin, moving languidly over your throat.

You buzzed, your head thrown back to rest against his shoulder. All your clever, biting jabs were forgotten, washed away by his mouth as he kissed the corner of your lips, then your cheek, then just beside your ear.

By some miracle, you found your wit again, making a dissatisfied noise as your eyes shut. “Don’t be a tease.”

The back of your eyelids, orange from the light of the sun, were set in shadow as James chuckled, leaning down again. He kissed you, and the swell of love resounded like a thousand violins, all playing a single, sublimely beautiful note.

☆ ─────── ₒ*ₒ☾ ☽ₒ*ₒ ─────── ☆

Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile @eli-com @lovelyteenagebeard

#james potter/reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fanfiction #marauders era #james potter fluff #james potter #marauders fandom #hp marauders #harry potter fanfiction

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elliespuns · 3 days ago

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I was thinking about Joel Miller and vibrators...

And I think he'd have no problem with his woman having sex toys, but he'd be quite hesitant about using them together in the bedroom. Like, if you suggest using a toy, even if it's something small like a bullet vibrator, he'll be hesitant, he's a bit scared the vibrator might be like way better than him, he gets a little insecure. But he agrees to try, for you. And then... he's a menace now. Once he finds out everything he can do with it - give you more powerful orgasms, make you keep going while he's not ready to go again, stimulate more spots at once - he's a menace. Now he's the one enthusiastic about using sex toys. He'll have you begging him to give you and your poor cunt a break.

And if you ask to use it on him, he's completely skeptical. Thinks it won't do anything for him... Until you touch his cock with it when he's already quite stimulated and he almost cums on the spot.

Joel seems to have a very positive and healthy attitude towards sex, he strikes me as this kind of a man. So his opinion about toys and using them as part of sexual exploration would be very positive.

He doesn't seem like a man to judge or shame women for enjoying solo play. If anything, he's curious and aroused by the idea of his partner taking charge of her own pleasure, even if it means using a toy.

I think Joel is secure enough in his own sexuality that he doesn't feel threatened by his partners exploring their desires in whatever ways feel fun and exciting for them but he would still curse that vibrating motherfucker to even come near as his competition.

He probably realizes that women's bodies are complex and have many different erogenous zones that can be stimulated in a variety of ways.

He would definitely love to watch his girl use a vibrator and see how it makes her quiver and moan. He'd want to know all her favorite techniques and speeds. He's a generous lover who wants his woman totally satisfied, and using toys together could only heighten their intimacy and pleasure. He's not controlling about sex, but utterly supportive of her experiences and desires.

I imagine if Joel were to discover his partner using a vibrator, he would smile and ask if he could watch or help. He would probably tell her how beautiful and sexy she is, how hot it is to see her taking care of her own pleasure.

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us game #elliespuns answers

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darylsdelts · 2 days ago

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Hello there! I know you must be busy with uni but I really love your headcanons!! So yup, whenever you feel like it just let out all those thoughts you have, they will be appreciated by your loyal followers!😄

I’m glad you like them haha!

I’m tryna think of more!!

D.D head-canons: part idek anymore

🫧 should be wearing glasses, his eyesight has gotten slightly worse with age but only with close up stuff. Struggles to read over Jude’s homework for her and would just say it was good.

🫧 a few residents of Alexandria had wrongly assumed that him and carol were together and it made him very uncomfortable. He didn’t really know how to put those rumours to rest but they eventually went away… thank god.

🫧 really wanted a baby sibling when he was little, a sister more specifically. He used to wish he had a sibling closer to his age to play with when Merle wasn’t around.

🫧 used to try to take his teddy in with him during bath time and momma would have to explain to him that his teddy wouldn’t be any good wet. It ended in tears every time.

🫧 had to wear shoes too small or too big for him quite often when he was little. Either wearing merles old shoes or his own shoes that he had grown out of.

🫧 he liked the songs his momma would play and sing and would try to sing along with his cute baby voice. He sometimes still hums them when doing random tasks.

🫧 was really well behaved at school, at least early on, he really enjoyed the praise he’d get.

🫧 when he’s alone, sometimes over thinking or just feeling overwhelmed, he’ll stare down and count the eyelets on his boots, something he’s always done. It may not help much but he still holds onto it.

🫧 this is obvious but he’s a very private lover. He’s still sweet in company of others of course, and if only carol or someone he’s real close to is around, he’d rest his hand on your lower back or have his arm over your shoulders but he usually saves all the sweetness for behind closed doors. Also he would kill you if you let it slips that he sometimes whines for snuggles. Do not tell a soul.

🫧 took a long while for him to be comfortable to get teary eyed around you. If you could watch Disney movies together he’d definitely cry though.

🫧 he actually does want to be a father but he’s only brought it up once, scared it could pressure you if he brings it up again. He can’t fathom being able to carry a human in your body for nine months then pushing it out so he’ll wait for you to say something. If you never do, he’s okay with that.

🫧 he wouldn’t exactly propose. You’d probably bring up the idea of being married and he’d say something like “is that what you want?”/“would you want that?” To which you’d nod and he’d say “you can be”. The next day he’d go out and find the closest thing he could to resemble a pretty ring. He’s not materialistic and neither are you but he wants to be able to have something which shows you’re his. He’d get home and sit on the couch, taking your hand and sliding it on your finger. “Yeah?” He’d ask. “Love ya so much”.

#norman reedus #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #my daryl thoughts

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lightsoutmatthews · 2 days ago

Text

"I´m just so tired." - Joseph Woll

summary: student teaching is draining all the energy from you, luckily your boyfriend is there to support you every step of the way.

Pairing: Joseph Woll x female!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none, mostly fluff maybe a little angst

authors notes:

this was inspired by my own student teacher placement a few months ago, luckily I had a much better experience than the reader

--------------------------------------------------

You leaned your head against the cool material of the front door as soon as you stepped foot into the apartment. The quiet that loomed over the place a strong contrast to the chaos and loud noise you had experienced at school the entire day.

You knew your boyfriend was still at the rink, getting some work done with the trainers after lunch with some of his teammates. At the moment you were thankful for it. Speaking being the last thing you wanted to do right now.

It was the second to last week of your placement as a student teacher in a middle school a few blocks from where you lived, and you were exhausted. You knew it would be a stressful time, especially, since this was the first time you would stand in front of a class after being in university for years but the responsibilities your mentor teacher put on you aside from basically running her class the last two weeks were piling up and becoming too much.

You were looking forward to spring break in a few weeks, you and Joseph having booked a quick getaway to a sunny island during the NHLs four nations break, you just had to get trough the next weeks. Keeping your head up, accepting everything that would be thrown at you from the school administration, university and your mentor teacher.

Thinking about how she asked you to plan an outdoor day for the seventh grade in the middle of winter a freezing city like Toronto made your head hurt. “Just to get the students active, you know.” She said, an almost evil grin on her face. “It will be a fun goodbye for them.” She added, smirking even more.

Where you would find an outdoor activity where the students wouldn’t complain about freezing 15 minutes in you didn’t know but you had to come up with something over the weekend.

Slowly you put your bag down next to the wardrobe in the hallway and took of your shoes and jacket before letting out a loud sigh. There were some chores you still had to do, things you put off for days because you were so busy planning lessons all day when you were not at school, but you simply could not motivate yourself to do it right now. Just the thought made you want to cry.

Instead, you slumped down on the couch, closing your eyes, trying to keep the tears from spilling. This wasn’t the first time you thought about quitting the whole thing, maybe teaching wasn’t the job you actually wanted to do for the rest of your life. But then you saw the smile on the students faces when you did a fun activity with them, or when you took the time to acknowledge their needs and helped them to understand what you talked about and there was nothing you would rather do in your life than see this for the rest of it.

The tears started to spill over the rims of your eyes when you thought about how you should not rest and rather start to look up activities for next week, but it was like you lost all ability to move. Your head pounded and shivers ran over your arms even though it was fairly warm in the apartment.

The quiet being too much and not enough at the same time. You were longing for the arms of your boyfriend who would rub your back and tell you everything would be alright. Unfortunately, you had no idea when he would be home.

Time passed like it was frozen, minutes felt like hours. The tears kept running down your cheeks, quiet sobs leaving your mouth every now and then.

You didn’t even register when the front door opened, multiple voices filling the living space. With closed eyes you took a deep breath. Dealing with Josephs teammates was the last thing you wanted to do right now, as much as you loved them, but you were ready to put on the face of the perfect hostess, just like always.

“Guys, I´m sorry but you need to leave.” The words barely reached your ears. Confused mumbles from the hallway before a familiar voice quietly said something you could not quite make out. Shortly after the apartment was quiet again, apart from the sounds of your boyfriend hanging up his jacket.

His footsteps heavy on the wooden floor of your apartment. His scent – a mix of his usual body wash and a hint of cinnamon – filling your nose before he was in your line of sight. The worry on his face was unmistakable.

You registered that he was speaking to you, but you ears felt they were filled with cotton balls. Tuning out most of his words.

His soft touch on your arm made you jump, which made him back off immediately. “Sweetheart.” He mumbles; his words finally being registered by your brain. When you didn’t reply he simply sat down on the couch and gave you space.

The both of you sat in silence for a bit, you still silently crying. You knew it was killing him to not pull you into his arms and try to calm you down. His twitching hands being an indication that he was close to breaking and reaching out to you, but he knew you better than to get into your space when you didn’t want it.

When you eventually reached your hand out and interlinked his with yours, he grabbed your arm and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you in a comforting cocoon. His right hand softly brushing over your back, the other one holding you close to his chest. “What happened at school today?” He whispered, his mouth close to your ear.

It took you a few deep breaths to calm yourself down before you managed to speak, your hands were trembling, and your breathing was short from the minutes of crying. “I´m just so tired, Joe.” An even more worried frown mixed with a hint of understanding appeared on his face, while you buried your face in his shoulder, trying not to break out in tears again.

He grabbed your face with both hands and softly made you look at him. When he wiped your tears away and softly started rubbing your cheeks your heart melted at the tender action. “Oh, sweetheart.” He whispered. “Please tell me what happened, how can I make it better?” His fixer personality trait coming through again made you hiccup whimper.

“It´s all too much.” You mumbled. “My mentor teacher is the meanest woman I have ever come across, she has me running her class for the past two weeks while she relaxes in the teachers’ lounge during the lesson. Now she wants me to find an outdoor activity that lasts for multiple hours for next Thursday, in the middle of freaking winter in Canada.” You slammed your hand on the couch, one of the decorative pillows falling to the floor because of the force. “I´m supposed to learn from her, not be her stand in.” You spit before slumping down on the couch again.

“At the same time, I´m so behind on household chores, I haven’t folded laundry in four days, I haven’t taken the trash out or dusted. When I get home in the afternoon, I am too tired. I feel bad for leaving it all hanging, I don’t want to burden you with it during your busy schedule.” He leaned back and looked at you with wide eyes. His hands grabbing yours, to stop them from shaking in the same motion.

“Baby, what do you mean you don’t want to burden me with it?” The offended tone of his voice made your gut wrench. You didn’t want to answer him, but you did it anyways.

“You hockey schedule is so busy, especially now, with you having to play so many games with Anthony out. I don’t want to disrupt your recovery time with stupid tasks like taking the trash out or dusting the shelves.”

He started to rub his neck. You pulled back your hands and started to knead them as you looked anywhere but his direction.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He grabbed your hands again which made you turn back towards him, giving him your full attention. “Tasks around the house are not stupid tasks. And I live here just as much as you do, so asking me to do stuff like cleaning or taking out the trash is not disrupting my recovery. It´s what I should do, it´s what I should do more even. I´m sorry it all fell back on you. Especially, since you´re having such a hard time.”

He pulled you back onto his lap and softly rubbed the back of your neck. “You´re my girlfriend, not my maid. You don’t have to cook and clean for me, especially not when you have more important things to do, and your studies are more important.”

His sweet words made your blush and wanting to cry at the same time. He was too good for this world, too sweet compared to the other relationships you had been in before. This was still so new to you.

He softly tipped your head up and placed a lingering kiss to your lips. “I love you, never forget it.” He whispered against them.

“I love you too.” You whispered back but let out a loud sigh at the same time. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to tell him what was on your mind. Your buried your head in your hands over his shoulder, heavy breaths leaving your mouth as you thought. His hands going back to rubbing softly over your shoulders.

The action was comforting. You wished you would be able to spend the rest of time being comforted by him. He made you feel at ease with everything. Like you were able to conquer the world with him by your side.

“I still need to find this outdoor activity. I haven’t taken my mind off this since leaving school.” Another loud sigh left your mouth.

You heard Joseph rustle. When you looked up from leaning on his shoulder, he had pulled out his phone and was frantically typing on it. For a moment you were taken aback. You had just told him you were struggling with finding an activity and he was texting?

When he looked up and saw your hurt face his changed into a smile with his signature giggle. “I´m listening, and I´m solving your problem. Not texting anyone unimportant, I promise.” He pulled you back against him and placed a kiss to your head before he went back to his phone.

“Does the activity have to be outdoor outdoor, like actually outside? Or is an outdoor sport enough?” You squinted your eyes, confusion written all over your face.

Still, you took a moment to think, your mentor teacher did not specify what kind of outdoor it had to be. “Just get the students active.” Was all your mentor teacher said. So, you guessed an outdoor sport inside would technically work. Even though you had no idea what his plan was.

“I mean, technically that should work. What are you thinking?” He didn’t answer, just smiled and went back typing.

After about five minutes he stopped and looked at you with a confident and happy expression. You raised your eyebrows, curious about what he was about to tell you.

“So, how would you feel about coming out to Ford Performance Center with your students.” Your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait actually?” You yelped. He chuckled and placed his phone on the living room table to give you his full attention again.

“Yes, sweetheart, actually.” He laughed. “I texted some people from the team, asking if we could make it happen, and they said it was no problem. The Marlies are on the road so you can technically be on their ice as long as you want. Their words, not mine.”

You swung your arms around his neck, plastering his face with kisses. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will write an email to the school immediately so they can get the permission slips set up and sent to the parents over the weekend.”

He wrapped his arms around you tightly and laughed, throwing his head back. “It´s nothing.” He waved it off, but this was everything to you. He not just listened to the problem and your worries, he actively went and solved it.

You scrambled off his lap to get to your desk to get everything ready, but he held you down before you could get up. “One more thing.” He said, a cheeky smile on his face.

“How would your students feel about shooting some pucks at an actual NHL goaltender, and skating with a couple of other Leafs?”

#joseph woll #toronto maple leafs #joseph woll imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl imagine #joseph woll x reader

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