#like all the lyric songs fuck so hard and I just accepted the other songs like yeah okay weird but okay

[totopopopo]

Sniffling sobbing and crying like a little wet beastie. Well okay I finished the podcast………

[daeluin]

help me end a discussion:

[sockatoothewafflebird]

over and over, i fuck myself over, and under and under, i do it again.

morning and evening, i felt i was grieving, until i said fuck you, and never again.

daytime or nighttime, i feel i'm on my time, but time is fickle, just like a friend.

and with my departure, from the pain i harbor, i feel i am sinking, and sailing to swim...

--

I'm worried about Ragatha.

She'd definitely be better off not looking at mirrors for a while. Even more so if she stopped reciting random depressing songs to her ceiling, for no other reason than to dig a deeper hole, to sink further down. I can hear her singing to herself every night, the same songs she plays on all her instruments. What a beautiful voice. How beautifully she plays. But, it's always so sad.

She keeps falling. Faster. Further. Her screams can't be heard anymore. And yet she never falters. How many miles - and what kind - of shit has she been through, to think this is okay? How long did it go on for, for her to think it's normal?

It's not healthy.

But she doesn't mind. Somehow. She'd break her own arms herself if it meant Zooble would stop losing their temper at her, if it meant Jax would stop terrorizing Gangle, if it meant Kinger could just remember the little things.

She's such a wonderful person. Amazing. An unstoppable ray of sunshine for anyone willing to look at her. She's the kindest person I've ever met. Even behind all that fog, she cares, maybe more than anyone. It's so sweet.

It's so easy to see she's hurting though. She hurts so much sometimes I can see her hide her tears, I can tell she deflects all the time.

If only she knew she didn't have to hide. If only she saw it. If only she knew she's more than a toy.

If only I could get through to her.

I guess I should've listened when Kaufmo said to never fall for a girl with baggage. Seeing her like this just hurts.

I hope she can figure it out. I try so hard to make sure she's doing alright, and she always insists I don't have to worry. And I can never hide how much it devastates me that she thinks I'd drop the subject so quickly, and just act like I don't care. I do care. I care so much I think i'll fucking die if she doesn't start seeing through my eyes once in a while.

God. This is the longest entry i've ever written. My hand hurts.

Goodnight, I guess. Here's to hoping.

---

my plan when i find a character i like (in no particular order):

this is how i feel about ragatha. in case you didn't notice. i love her as a character so much i just wanna put her under a damn microscope. the influence has influenced me and now i share the obsession with ragatha that mod bee from @ask-the-rag-dolly has been afflicted with.

pomni is such an observant character. and caring. and overall very smart. she can't pretend she doesn't notice all of ragatha's little lies and slip-ups.. and it eats away at her, knowing she can't do anything, knowing ragatha can't and won't accept help right now. ragatha needs to come to terms with it on her own. a therapist is what ragatha needs.

but in a video game? and in my au, in the middle of a broken world full of corporate greed and the cold, unforgiving whims of mother nature? if she found a therapist in either, it would be considered a once in a lifetime historical discovery. the school textbooks would have a chapter on it.

either way, something's up in the darkest depths of that cotton-filled brain of hers, and she's just built to think it doesn't matter. she's built to make sure everything stays nice and positive and okay. when we ALL see it's not. goddamnit ragatha i will make an oc that is a licensed therapist just so you can stop being such a sad wet dog and start practicing the art of self-partially-enjoy oh my god you sweet little door hinge

(song lyrics at the beginning are from over & over by rio romeo btw, theyre very cool pls check them out)

[girlwtdragontattoo]

In your debt - Final Part

Young Halsin x Reader

Hey guys! This is the final part of my Young Halsin saga lol. I may continue doing some other fics with this version of him, but I am quite frankly out of ideas for now.

I am not all too proud of this part. There are certain scenes that just don't hit as hard as I'd like, but I've been editing and tweaking for days now. I'm finally just accepting it is what it is and basta!

Original idea for young Halsin belongs to @ozumii-fucking-wizard! Please go to their blog and follow!

Warning: 18+, violence, general nsfw, explicit sex, oral and penetrative, rough

For previous parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

If you want a spicy song for "the moment", give this a listen. It's what I listened to while writing it lol

Word Count: 8k sorry lol

-----

Halsin listened to your plan and decided it was too risky. He rejected it in an exceedingly kind way, as his smile hypnotized you to refrain from arguing. You conceded, for now, but asked that he share his plans with you, once there were any. He agreed, reluctantly.

In the next few days, you noticed him speaking to two other druids in hushed voices. You surmised they were Frelma and Danan, the two he mentioned that would help him topple the looming drow and goblin threat.

They would hurriedly finish their meals and then gather at the edge of the forest. It was fairly obvious that they were doing something they shouldn’t, but you couldn’t tell if the Archdruid, or Anwen, suspected anything. If they did, they didn’t show their suspicions around you. Halsin joined Anwen in prayer every evening. You were allowed to observe. One time, you noticed Anwen cross her arms and eye her adoptive son from head to toe, while Halsin nervously sputtered something about “studying”. If you could tell he was lying, you were certain she could. But she didn’t press him, to your surprise.

Your healing was complete. You felt a surge of energy and strength within yourself after the final session with Halsin, but there was also a twinge of sadness. You enjoyed these tender bouts with him. The feeling of his warm hands upon you made you yearn for more. He would often lower his head and listen to your abdomen and a strobing image of him between your legs made you twitch and gulp down your lust, embarrassed that he may feel your body temperature rise dramatically.

You weren't certain the feeling was mutual. You thought you saw him blush a few times and try to hide it or noticed a devoted spark within his viridescent eyes as you complimented his duck figurines. The way he touched you, it felt different than how Anwen healed you. As if he was exploring.

You would talk for hours now. You taught him a few chords, he showed you what amazing things you could find in the forest – creatures, plants, food. He even taught you how to carve wood. He would sit behind you to guide your hands while you carefully sliced through the bark. His touch was so gentle. Some nights you two would sing together, that addictive laugh of his when he messed up a note or lyric; It almost made you swoon.

He loved learning about your travels, the city and misadventures you’d had. He confessed he was slightly bored of the forest and wanted to go on long explorations. He even joked about joining you – at least you thought it was a joke. The way he looked at you when he said “Good night”; Most evenings, it felt he had a difficult time leaving your side.

You couldn’t be sure: maybe he was just like this with everyone.

Halsin told you his current plan while you helped him forage one afternoon. They would track the goblins’ markings through the forest to the stronghold and sneak inside. He showed you the footprints peppering the muddy ground near the village entrance. Once there, they would eradicate the leaders, leaving the goblins without guidance and unable to organize. It sounded so simple, but once you pressed how three druids would manage to fight off a hoard of goblins and tactical drow leaders, he placated you that they were well trained. At the question “What if the goblins overwhelm you?” you noticed the druid’s eyes jitter across the floor. It looked like he hadn’t thought of that, but quickly shook off his reaction.

It was your last day together. Halsin decided he would leave with his group the following morning. Your healing had finished, after all. His task was done. You had no reason to stay in the druids’ village any longer. They all assumed you wanted to get back home – which was the furthest thing from your mind.

You had tucked the children into bed with a lullaby once again and found the druid waiting for you outside the barn. Leaning against a nearby tree, you sensed heightened hesitation on his end, unusual for him. You tilted your head as you watched him scan your features. Letting his arms drop, he approached you slowly. Your heart thudded against your chest.

“Y/N,…”, he looked deeply into your eyes as he grasped your hands within his. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you. I wish we’d met under different circumstances. Please know you are always welcome in the High Forest! Thaniel adores you, the children adore you, my mother thinks you’re a riot. And I… well…” You saw him swallow harshly and your insides started combusting.

WHAT? SAY IT!

The young druid squeezed your hands slightly, his jaw clenched.

“I..”

The courage he was building up collapsed suddenly. He dropped his head and let out a sigh.

“Thank you for everything. I hope Silvanus permits our paths cross again. If I survive tomorrow.”

His laugh felt forced.

Your face muscles unclenched and your brows tilted upwards. That was it? You couldn’t suppress the pulsating disappointment. It showed in your eyes. What did he stop himself from saying?

Halsin looked disappointed as well. He stared off to the side and let go of your hands, taking his time.

You stood in silence for a while. The unspoken truth hammering in your chest. His reluctance threw you off. Did he not feel the way you did, after all? Did he not want you?

Your own bravery shrunk within itself. The words you had prepared in your head for days were fogging fast.  

“Halsin,” you started with the first coherent thought, “Please let me come with you. The current plan is suicide.” This wasn’t all you wanted to say. But your tongue ignored you.

His eyes drifted over your face. He saw your own hesitation and blinked slowly.

“No. I can’t see you hurt again. And please, don’t worry. If things get too hard, we’ll get out of there.”

That last line was a lie. You could tell.

The druid stepped forward and pulled you into a tight embrace. Your breath shook as your face pressed against his strong chest. The scent of his skin drifted up your nose. You felt his chin rest on your head softly, as you two swayed in each other’s arms. The hug lasted a while, neither of you wanting to end it.

There was a brief tremor and he released from you.

“Oakfather preserve you”, he mumbled, looking down at you one last time before turning to leave.

You wanted to grab his arm and pull him back to you. But the fear of a second rejection was too deafening.

Why wouldn’t your mouth open? You wanted to scream that your wish was to stay with him. Your mind threw up every single want and need you imagined with him. But nothing dared leave your lips.

Halsin entered the barn and closed the sliding door without looking at you.

The tears fell from your eyes without warning. There was so much you wanted to say, but you couldn’t muster up any remaining strength or courage to follow him.

Maybe this was for the best. You had a life back in Baldur’s Gate. And he had his here.

Perhaps this was the way it had to be. As shitty as it was.

You walked up the path slowly, the druids’ village behind you, trekking the road back to the city in the morning light. Your entire body resisted the travel home. You didn’t want to go back. Your stomach was in knots.

You loved the High Forest. The children. The druids.

You had feelings for Halsin. Whether you were brave enough to speak them into existance or not, they existed. Not only did you long for him for his eternal beauty, but the endless gentle nature that embraced you every time he gazed into your eyes. You couldn’t be certain what he chose not to divulge to you yesterday, but you regretted not telling him how you felt.

His plan was dumb. He was surely walking into a massive trap in the stronghold. Your plan was also dumb, but it guaranteed that the druids would have a higher chance of survival. It didn’t guarantee your survival, but you had waved Halsin’s critique of that small detail away the same way he brushed yours off.

The idea of never seeing him again bit your heart. You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt. And he would definitely be wounded or worse if he went through with his current plan.

A snaking, disturbing thought wrapped itself around your head. What if he actually got killed?

You stopped in your tracks and gazed at the path that led back home. You couldn’t let that happen. He was a big brother to those sweet children. The forest spirit was his friend. His mother would be in shambles. You would be inconsolable.

This plan is dumb.

You felt your body turn on its heels and face the direction of the village once more. Not knowing what happened to him would be the worst kind of torture. The endless wondering if he was alright. The sleepless nights praying to all the Gods that he returned to the druids’ village safely.

It won’t work.

The tempo of your stride increased gradually, leaving gusts of dirt behind you, as you ran back. Halsin had showed you which footprints they were following. You knew in which direction they were heading.

I’m gonna die again.

You muttered to yourself as you hiked up a steep hill through the trees, the goblins’ tracks still visible in the dirt road. You spotted fresh larger prints and recognized Halsin’s boots.

You ran, holding the beautiful lute he made for you in your hand.

You found them deeper in the forest, stalking low through the high bushes, their pace steady. Halsin’s broad shoulders tensed as he led the way through the brush, flanked by his two companions—each of them with their eyes sharp, alert to the clashing and clanking of metal below in the clearing. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows that danced along the path. You could hear their hushed conversation as you approached, their words blending with the rustling of leaves.

"Halsin!" You called out, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest from the frantic, long sprint. Your face was the shade of a fire amber.

Halsin spun around, eyes wide with surprise as he saw you coming up the trail. His face softened, but there was an unmistakable flicker of frustration in his gaze: “What are you doing here? No! Get back to the city!”

You peered down at what they had discovered. A large camp stretched across a field of dead trees with a decaying ruin casting huge shadows on the hastily constructed ramparts. It emanated death, making the skin on the back of your neck prickle with fear. There was a moat around the camp with a rickety and long bridge stretching across the depth.

Gulping audibly, you returned your gaze to the group of confused druids who were waiting for an explanation. Halsin looked incredulous.

You planted yourself firmly in front of him: “I’m here to help. Your plan—it won’t work man, I just know it won’t.”

His jaw tightened, a low growl of annoyance escaping his throat: “And your plan? The one where you sacrifice yourself as bait for a horde of viscious goblins? That will work? It’s reckless, stupid, dangerou—”

“It’s the only way!”, you interrupted, meeting his intense, worried glare with unwavering determination, although your knees were giving in. Why was even his angered face hot?

“If I can lead the goblins away, it will give you and the others a real chance to take out the drow without being overwhelmed. Your plan leaves too much to chance. We can’t afford that, not with the children’s lives at stake.”

Halsin’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his voice strained: “No. I can’t let you. It’s too risky and if something happens to you again—” His words trailed off, the frustration giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable.

His two friends, who had been silent until now, exchanged glances. Frelma, a younger, halfling druid with sharp eyes and a playful expression, stepped forward: “Halsin,… I’m sorry mate, but maybe they’re right. Our current plan is… well not really a plan, is it? We’re kind of just jumping in and hoping for the best. This way…to draw the goblins out… it could give us a real advantage.”

Danan, a quiet but sturdy looking human, nodded in agreement: “It’s better than what you have been conjuring up as we go.” He turned his gaze to you, scanning you up and down. Your breath was already steady, despite having ran the entire way.

“You have good stamina. Definitely fast to catch up with us so quickly. What’s your plan for distracting them?”

You hastily flung your bag on the ground and rummaged in it. Out of the chaotic depths of your belongings, you pulled a couple glass bottles out. Holding them up, you explained: “I know, if you mix salt, scales and fungi together, it can make a decent explosive. Not too devastating but enough to cause confusion. I have salt in my pack. You guys should know how to find the rest, no?”

Frelma paused briefly then nodded, mumbling that she noticed drake markings at a nearby cave. Danan already started peering into the forest, assessing where he could ascertain the right mushrooms.

Halsin’s eyes darted between his companions and you, his internal struggle palpable. His shoulders sagged, the weight of the situation bearing down on him: “This is lunacy. You don’t understand what you’re up against here,” he said softly, almost pleading. “I don’t want to see you hurt again. Not for this.”

You got up from the ground, still holding the bottles in your hands. You took a step closer, your voice gentle but firm: “I know I don’t look it, but I’ve bolted my way out of horrible situations before. I can outrun them. You just take care of the leaders. This way, you guys can use the element of surprise to your benefit. If you go through with this without a real plan, it could be you who gets hurt, or worse. I can’t let that happen. Please… let me do this.”

The worry he had for you made your heart scream.

His gaze held yours for a long moment, his eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation. You could feel the raw emotion behind his steely exterior—because it echoed within your own form.

Frelma pressed the young druid further: “Halsin. We have to succeed today. If we lose, I do not want to know what will happen to the village.” Danan nodded in agreement. All three were staring up at the honey-haired elf, who kept his gaze firmly on you.

Finally, with a deep, resigned sigh, he spoke, his voice thick with emotion: “I don’t like this, not one bit… but… I guess you’re right. We cannot afford to lose.”

You exhaled, relief flooding through you as his words sank in: “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Halsin’s worry still clouded his features. He reached out, resting a hand on your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. Your red face turned purple.

“Run like hell,” he adjured, his voice deep and filled with a quiet intensity. “The forest needs you. The children need you… and so do I.”

You gave a small, determined nod, gripping the bottles in your hand. You leaned into his touch briefly, before he lowered his hand to turn to the stronghold.

You turned as well, ready to set your plan in motion while the other two went on to gather the necessary ingredients. Halsin stayed back to look for any shallow entryway. You cast one last look at him, before you ran after Danan and Frelma.

Night had fallen by the time you reached the outskirts of the goblin camp. Shadows stretched long across the ground, and the loud, raucous voices of goblins and drow filled the air as they feasted and drank within the ruin’s crumbling walls. The scent of roasted, sour meat wafted on the night breeze, mixing with the pungent stench of unwashed bodies and smoke. It made your stomach churn, both from nerves and disgust.

High above in the ramparts of the ruin, you squatted down, cloaked in the darkness. You moved carefully, staying low as you crept across the stone. The weight of the glass bottles in your hand was a constant reminder of what was to come. You felt your heart pound against your chest with a mix of adrenaline and fear.

What the Hells am I doing?

Below, in the ruin's hall, the three drow leaders sat at the head of the long table, their faces twisted in haughty disdain as they presided over the goblins, who sheepishly ate food scraps the drow had thrown on their tables. Two female warriors, clad in dark armor and bristling with blades, flanked a male drow in elegant robes. His sneering gaze drifted across the room like a spider surveying its web, full of contempt for his own underlings and their disappointing return. Dead goblin corpses littered the front. Their throats slit or heads caved in. You surmised the drow had made an example out of some of the goblins for their failure to capture the children. You recognized Izick, his body sprawled, bloody and discarded off to the side. So, he had survived the fall with you. But he hadn’t avoided death.

The goblins were too distracted to notice the approaching danger, but the drow remained sharp—dangerous even in their leisure.

Halsin, Frelma, and Danan moved silently, shadows within shadows, creeping through the underbrush and stone rubble surrounding the stronghold. Their presence was almost imperceptible, the tension building as they stalked closer to their target. You saw Halsin in a deep crouch near the rear of the ruin, his eyes gleaming golden in the moonlight, the instinctual urge to charge into the fray held back by sheer force of will. He waited, watching for your signal, his backside straining for a pounce.

It was your turn.

This is suicide, your brain screamed at you, but you ignored it.

The goblins below were too engrossed in eating scraps to notice you at the ramparts. Some were fighting amongst themselves for pieces of food, others drunkenly hollering at each other. It was the perfect storm of chaos, ripe for your plan to begin.

You gripped the grenade bottle tightly, sweat slick on your palm despite the cool night air. Every second felt like a lifetime ticking away. You counted the goblins below—too many to face in open battle, but just enough to chase after one tantalizing and idiotic distraction.

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself.

I’m definitely going to die.

You shook your head. Now wasn’t the time for reason. This had to work. It just had to.

It felt like days passed as you waited for your arm to obey.

Then, with a flick of your wrist, you hurled the bottle with all your strength into the heart of the camp.

Time seemed to slow as the glass bottle arched through the air, glinting in the dim light of the torches. It smashed against a stone near the goblins' fire pit, shattering into a brilliant flash of sparks and smoke. The chemical mixture inside ignited with a crackling roar, and suddenly, flames and choking fumes exploded upward. Goblins screeched in confusion, clutching at their eyes, as a burst of light and sound sent them into a frenzied panic.

The table overturned in the chaos, food and drink spilling everywhere. The male drow snapped to attention, his sharp eyes narrowing with suspicion. "What is the meaning of this?" he barked at the goblins, his voice dripping with venom.

But the goblins were beyond control now. The noise and flames had triggered their primal instincts—fight or flight. And when they caught sight of you, darting across the top of the ramparts, they made their choice.

“There!” one of the goblins howled, pointing at your fleeting form. “Get that rat!”

Like a wave crashing over rocks, the goblin horde surged toward you, claws and weapons raised. You didn’t wait to see the full effect; you bolted, heart pounding, lungs burning as your legs carried you across the stone ruins. The cacophony of angry goblins filled the air behind you, their shrieks and footfalls growing louder as they swarmed after you like a pack of feral beasts.

You leaped from the ramparts and rolled as you hit the ground, not daring to look back as you sprinted through the muddy camp, your feet pounding against the squelching earth. They were following you, as planned, but there were so many. The old bridge loomed ahead, dark and rickety as the wind swayed the frayed wood from side to side. The goblins’ cries echoed through the night as you darted towards the peninsula.

Back at the ruin, Halsin and his companions took advantage of the chaos. With the goblins now chasing you, the main hall was left vulnerable, the drow leaders standing alone with only a few goblin stragglers, stunned and confused by the sudden turn of events.

Frelma grinned, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as she crouched beside Halsin. “Well, that worked better than expected,” she whispered.

Danan grunted in agreement, his eyes locked on the drow. “It’s time.”

Halsin's hands flexed at his sides, his jaw tight as he watched the drow leaders—three of Lolth's chosen, arrogant and cruel, their dark eyes scanning the room for signs of the ambush they couldn’t see coming. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, the primal fury begging to be unleashed. A flash of you, hurt and bleeding, flitted in his mind. But he shook his head. He needed to concentrate and fulfill the mission.

“Hold,” he muttered, forcing himself to wait a moment longer. He needed to time the attack perfectly. The last few goblins hastily followed the group after the male drow growled at them for their uselessness. You had done your part - he couldn’t let the drow sense what was coming. His fingers tingled with the surge of druidic power inside him, the need to transform almost overwhelming.

Finally, when the drow leaders’ attention drifted back to their overturned table for a brief second, Halsin gave a sharp nod to his companions.

With a single, fluid motion, Halsin burst from the shadows, his body aglow with golden light as his form shifted, muscles rippling as he transformed mid-leap. His bear form crashed into the male drow, sending him sprawling as Frelma and Danan surged forward, weapons flashing in the dim light. The two female drow drew their blades, their faces twisted into sneers as they prepared to fight back.

Frelma’s blade flashed in the moonlight as she darted around one of the warriors, each strike met with a sharp parry and a flurry of counterattacks. Danan fought the other, their weapons clashing with a thunderous ring, the drow’s face twisted in a sneer of amusement. She was toying with him, each movement graceful and calculated, a predator circling its prey.

Halsin, now in his bear form, roared as he slammed into the leader, sending him crashing against a crumbled wall. The drow hit the ground with a sickening thud, and for a moment, his body lay still. Halsin didn’t have time to confirm the kill—Frelma’s pained grunt drew his attention.

The female drow were vicious. Agile and brutal, their movements were precise and deadly. Frelma barely avoided a swipe to her throat, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she dodged and weaved. She was tiring. Danan was faring no better, his opponent driving him back step by step, her twin blades a blur of death in the dim light.

With a growl, Halsin charged, shifting back into his elven form. He unsheathed his staff, the wood crackling with druidic energy, and swung it down with the full force of his fury. It caught one of the drow off guard, knocking her off balance and giving Frelma the opening she needed. Frelma lunged forward, her blade finding purchase in the drow’s side, and the dark elf let out a hiss of pain, her sneer faltering.

Danan managed to regain his footing, pressing his attack as the second female drow turned her attention to Halsin. Her cold, red eyes gleamed with hatred, and she launched herself at him with lightning speed, her blades aimed straight for his chest.

But Halsin was ready.

He sidestepped her, his staff spinning in a fluid arc, knocking one of her blades from her hand. She snarled, but before she could recover, he brought the end of his staff crashing down on her wrist with a sharp crack, disarming her completely. Frelma and Danan closed in, ready to finish the fight.

Halsin’s gaze flicked toward the male drow, still crumpled against the wall. He didn’t move, his body seemingly lifeless.

You tore across the rickety old bridge that connected the ruin to the High Forest beyond. The ancient wood yawned angrily beneath your feet, swaying alarmingly with each step, but you couldn't slow down. The horde of goblins was right behind you, their screeches growing louder as they stormed across the bridge in pursuit. The clanging of their blades on their armor punched into your ears, their claws scraping against the tired wood.

Your heart pounded in your chest, every instinct screaming at you to keep running. Just a little farther.

Once you reached the other side of the bridge, you skidded to a stop, panting heavily as you pulled the second grenade bottle from your belt. With a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw the goblins—dozens of them—crowding onto the bridge. It groaned under their weight, the ancient wood splintering at the edges.

This was it.

You hurled the bottle at the center of the bridge, your aim true. The glass shattered against the wood, and for a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then, with a deafening explosion, the bridge erupted in a shower of fire and splinters. The force of the blast eviscerated the structure, sending chunks of wood and metal flying into the air. The goblins let out terrified shrieks as the ground disappeared beneath them. You watched as they tumbled into the depths below, their bodies swallowed by the darkness of the ravine.

The bridge was gone. The goblins were no more.

You collapsed to your knees, gasping for breath, a mix of relief and exhaustion washing over you. The plan had worked. The horde was dealt with. You had made it out alive. You stared at the tower, anxiety gripping your throat. Was Halsin ok?

Back in the ruin, Halsin felt the rumble of the second explosion vibrate in the distance.

As the other female drow fell to the ground, defeated, Halsin’s attention snapped back to where the male drow had lain motionless. His heart fell to his stomach. The body was gone.

Halsin’s eyes widened in horror: "No..."

A surge of cold dread shot through him as he turned toward the entrance of the ruin. His mind raced, piecing it together—Misty Step. The male drow hadn’t been incapacitated. He had been waiting, biding his time, and now…

Was he going after you?

Halsin’s stomach twisted into knots, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow.

“I need to go!”, he barked at Frelma and Danan, urgency flooding his voice, “He’s going after Y/N!”

Without waiting for a reply, Halsin sprinted toward the exit, his legs pumping furiously as he raced through the ruin and out into the night.

He dashed through the mud with fire burning in his legs, stomach and throat, inconsolable at the sheer possibility that you could be harmed. Reaching the edge of the camp, embers of the explosion floated through the darkness and the charred wood smell invaded his nostrils.

Seeing the young druid on the other side, you cheered loudly, jumping up and down with your fist pumping into the air.

Halsin stared across the deep crevice before him at your gleeful hopping form, excessive concern stretched across his face. He couldn’t jump the distance in his human form.

Where was the drow?

You couldn’t see that far, so you didn’t notice how worrisome his expression was. You were so happy to see him alive and unharmed. Your plan had worked. The ecstasy of success waved through you and left you distracted. Your loud yelps of joy deafened the surroundings.

A whooshing sound reverberated behind you. Mist flowed between your legs as you landed from another jump. A harsh tug of your hair yanked you against your will back into the air. You kicked with your feet, but the drow held his arm outstretched, clasping a clump of your tresses. The pain made your spine contort.

“Y/N!!!”, Halsin shouted across the moat, his panicked voice repeated through the stone. The young druid’s body glowed golden, as he tried to transform.

“Don’t move…”, the drow’s sharp voice hissed to the druid, as he held a dagger to your side. “Or I’ll gut them.”

The pointy, harsh edge of the blade stuck in your belly. It hovered there dangerously close to your recovered area. You tried not to squirm too much in fear of being punctured, but the pain from your cranium made you move involuntarily.

Halsin roared with fury, the golden light flashing low: “Let them go!”

The drow sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. He dragged you closer, the blade still teasingly pressed against your abdomen: “You druids... you're all the same,” he growled, voice dripping with contempt. “Always talking about balance, harmony, and the natural order, like it makes you righteous. But what do you really know of power? You hide in your groves and forests, pretending to be one with nature, while the world burns and bends to those with ambition.”

He jerked your head back further, his fingers tangling painfully in your hair, yanking your neck at an awkward angle. “Slaves, like these filthy children you’re so desperate to protect, are a necessity for those of us who understand true strength. They’re tools—nothing more. Yet you lot," he glanced at Halsin with disdain, "would sacrifice your lives for them. Pathetic."

His eyes gleamed with malice, the grip on the blade loosening just slightly as he gestured toward Halsin. “Because of your meddling, I’ll have to replace what’s been taken from me. Those ugly children? They’d have made fine thralls, but I suppose I’ll just have to make do with this one instead. And I’ll return with more, fearsome soldiers.”

The blade wavered precariously as he waved it in the air, illustrating his sick vision. His attention drifted more and more toward his rant, the gloating feeding his arrogance. “My people—we understand how the world truly works. We take what we deserve, we own, we dominate. That’s the natural order.” He flicked the blade dangerously close to your ribs again, but it was clear—he was more interested in hearing the sound of his own voice than paying attention to his hostage.

Through the haze of pain and fear, you could feel it—the rhythm of his speech, the looseness of his grip, the blade no longer pressing with the same deadly certainty. His monologue flowed, each word laced with bitterness, but it was also growing sloppier, as his arrogance overtook his caution.

“Your little rebellion here means nothing. You’ll all fall to us, one way or another. No one stands against us and lives to—"

You didn’t let him finish.

In a surge of adrenaline, you kicked your legs up, swinging your foot with as much force as you could muster. The heel of your boot connected hard with the blade in his hand, sending it clattering across the stone ground. The drow yelped in fury and pain as the force of the blow snapped his fingers back, the sickening crack of bone ringing in your ears. He released his grip on your hair with a sharp intake of breath, stumbling back in shock and agony, clutching his broken extremities.

You fell on your back with a deep thud. Letting out an involuntary grunt, the fall had momentarily immobilized you, as your body tried to assess the damage. Your spine ached all the way down to your tailbone, which pulsated with a cruel sting. Your groans echoed through the crater, joining with the drow’s wails.

You heard the clattering of steel against stone again. Opening your eyes, they filled with fear as the drow walked towards you, blade back in both hands with two fingers bent in the wrong direction. He thrust up in the air to pierce your chest. You crawled backwards instinctively, but he was too fast. His biceps flexed: he was about to swing forward.

A giant, brown beast collided into him from the side, having jumped across the abyss. The bear roared with a deep, thunderous bellow, a powerful and resonant sound that rumbled like distant thunder, carrying the raw force of its primal strength. It was a familiar intonation; you had heard it the first day at the druids’ village. The rage filled small eyes gleamed in a green shade.

Its massive paws pummeled the dark elf, who was unable to do anything other than take each mighty strike. The bear hovered over you, the brown fur tickling your arms and legs as he continuously slammed down on the adversary. The crunching and cracking noises made you wince, holding your hands over your face.

The strikes continued for a while, until the bear let out another mighty roar. You dared not look at the result of the violence, but the drow didn’t move anymore.

His beastly form started glowing with a golden hue as he faced you lying beneath him. You peered at him through your fingers.

The bear transformed into Halsin, who hovered over you panting with exhaustion and excitement. Your breath was similarly fast, exhaling the fear and burning sensation in your legs out as you stared into each other’s eyes.

Both of you let out soft chuckles. You had done it. The village was safe. The children were protected again.

His eyes twitched back and forth from your eyes to your lips as your puffing synchronized shakily. Your heart was hammering against your chest. The jade hue in his eyes twinkled with a hunger you hadn’t seen before: it was the same craving you had had ever since you met him. He was waiting for something. Without really thinking, you nodded quickly.

He fell forward into your lips. You let out a moan as he kissed you hard and his body pressed into your own. He kept himself poised above you with his strong arms, but his leg pushed yours apart so he could press himself into you. Your tongues lapped each other up, the fiery taste trickling down your throat and intensifying the throbbing in your loins.

The intensity of your long-suppressed desires finally broke free. The mixture of happiness that he felt the way you did intertwined with the drive to please him. Both of you almost died. You had survived. You wanted each other now more than ever. You were both equally happy to see each other unharmed and could not wait any longer. There was no moment to think about timing.

Halsin's strong hands caressed your face, his touch gentle yet urgent. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. The heat between your bodies grew, months of unspoken longing pouring out through fevered touches and passionate embraces.

Halsin's lips trailed down your neck, eliciting soft gasps as he found sensitive spots. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve with reverence. You arched into his touch, fingers tangling in his hair as waves of expectation washed over you.

Clothing was hastily shed, both of you eager to feel skin against skin. Halsin's muscular form pressed against you, his warmth enveloping you completely. His touch was electric, igniting sparks wherever his fingers grazed. You traced the planes of his beautiful chest, gazing entranced at his pristine physique - a vision you had only been imagining since you met him. The discarded clothes lay forgotten by your sides.

His eyes filled with primal urge, eyeing your sweat speckled body he had been carefully mending for a long time. You gazed at each other, panting from the exhaustion of the heist and the anticipation of what needed to happen between you.

The druid scooped you up in his strong arms, carrying you away from the grisly scene to a more secluded spot against a large oak tree. His lips never left yours as he gently set you down, then pressed you up against the rough bark. The contrast of the tree's coarse texture against your back and Halsin's warm, smooth skin against your front sent shivers through your body. His large hands squeezed fleshy parts of you as you gasped into his ear. Halsin growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating in your spine and making the flame within you burn blue.

Halsin's lips traced a sizzling path down your neck as he gripped your ass. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the tree. The rough bark scraped your back. He grasped his length and held it up against your entrance, staring at you with impatient craving. Yet, he waited for your approval. You hastily nodded your head and spatt out a breathy “Yes”, which was interrupted by him thrusting deep into you. Your head fell back as you cried out - he was so big. He dared not enter you fully, thrusting only half of himself into your tiny body.

He held you up, easily, kissing the side of your neck to comfort you through his wild and frantic punctures.

Your bodies moved together in a primal rhythm, finding a perfect synchronicity. Halsin's muscular form rippled with each thrust, his face a mask of passionate intensity as he grunted deeply. You clung to his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin as waves of pleasure washed over you.

He carried you down to the forest floor, laying you gently on a bed of soft moss. Halsin hovered above you, his jade eyes dark with desire as he drank in the sight of your form. His hands roamed reverently over your curves before he lowered himself to you. His tongue tickled you and your back arched up aggressively into his mouth. You lay a hand on his honey hair and pushed him down into you. He obliged and licked faster, feeling you jerk and twist under his work. He chuckled teasingly into you, as he felt you get close.

“Not yet,…” he purred, staring up at you.

You rolled on top of him before he could continue teasing. You positioned yourself over his quaking cock.

Your thighs trembled with anticipation as you hovered over him. He gripped your hips, steadying you as you slowly lowered yourself onto his length. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you took him in, inch by delicious inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.

For a moment, you both stayed still, reveling in the sensation of being so intimately connected. The druid’s chest rose and fell rapidly in the golden hue, as he fought to maintain control. You placed your hands on his broad chest, feeling the fast beating of his heart beneath your palms.

Then, with a roll of your hips, you began to move. Slowly at first, savoring every sensation as you rose and fell upon him, feeling him slide inside you was a bittersweet sensation, as your body trembled with each thrust. The stretching of your walls to accommodate his immense size sent a strange concoction of pain and pleasure coursing through you. It was almost overwhelming, the way he filled every inch of you, pushing boundaries that seemed impossible. But you couldn't deny the rush of excitement and ecstasy that came with it, making you shiver and arch your back in pure bliss. It was an experience like no other, one that left you breathless and wanting more.

Halsin's fingers dug into your flesh, guiding your movements as eager groans rumbled from him. You thought you heard him say something, but were too engulfed in riding him fiercely to activate your hearing.

He held you still with his strength and thrust up into you.

Your bodies synchronised again, each roll of your hips met by his upward drive. The forest around you seemed to pulse with energy, leaves rustling and branches swaying as if nature itself was swept up in your passionate union.

With a low growl, Halsin suddenly sat up, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest. He kissed you deeply, hungrily, as if he couldn't get enough. Then, in one fluid motion, he flipped you over onto your hands and knees.

You felt the soft moss beneath your palms as Halsin positioned himself behind you. His large hands caressed your back, tracing the curve of your spine before gripping your hips once more. You shivered, feeling his hardness pressing against your dripping hole. As he drilled into you, you felt him lean over your back, his towering form much larger than yours. His calloused hand softly wrapped around your neck, pulling your face up towards him.

You stared at each other as you let out deepseated moans, as you came all over him. Seeing the rapture flood through you, made him pound into you even harder. Halsin's thrusts became more urgent, his breathing ragged as he neared his peak.

You could feel the tension building in his body, muscles taut with exertion and pleasure.

With a final, deep thrust, Halsin let out a primal, inhuman roar. His body shuddered as he spilled himself inside you, his warmth flooding your core. You felt his cock pulse within you, drawing out the last waves of your own climax.

For a moment, you both remained still, panting heavily as the intensity of your shared release washed over you. Then, gently, Halsin eased out of you and gathered you into his arms. He lay back on the soft moss, cradling you against his broad chest.

You nestled into his warmth, feeling the rapid beating of his heart gradually slow, both your breathing matching each other.

Your bodies eased into the softness of the ground and the druid and you let out highly needed laughs.

As your giggles subsided, you both lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter. The forest around you seemed to hum with contentment, the gentle rustling of leaves and distant chirping of nocturnal creatures creating a soothing symphony.

Halsin's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his broad chest, listening to the strong rhythm of his heartbeat.

"You know," Halsin began, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, "I've been wanting to do that for quite some time now."

You chuckled softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze. "Oh really? And here I thought I was the only one pining away."

His jade eyes sparkled with amusement and affection. "Pining, were you?”

“Fuck yes. When you first found me in the forest, I thought you were a God about to take me up to the Heavens. Couldn’t believe someone as handsome as you was semi-mortal.”

Halsin chuckled and pet your hair: “Even close to death, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Although I don’t like remembering seeing you like that. I am still beyond thankful to Silvanus that you pushed through that vile injury.”

You remembered something as he spoke of your first encounter.

“Hey, you were kissing me when I was unconscious, that’s a bit rude isn’t it?”

He laughed again: “I did not, I was bringing you back from the dead, mind you! Simple first aid, but effective.”

“First aid, sure.”

Halsin's eyes twinkled with mischief as he gazed at you. "Well, if you'd prefer, next time I find you half-dead, I'll just leave you be. Wouldn't want to be accused of taking advantage."

You snorted, playfully swatting his chest. "Oh please, as if you could resist these lips, even in a coma."

He giggled sweetly, the sound rumbling through his chest again and into yours. "You're right, I couldn't. Though I must say, you're much more enticing when you're conscious and not bleeding out. You have a crazy fascination with tempting fate. I must say I’ve never met someone like you before."

"Flatterer," you teased, tracing idle patterns on his skin. "I bet you say that to all the bards you rescue from certain doom."

Halsin's expression softened, his hand coming to cup your cheek. "Only the ones who’ve stolen my heart.”

You could've fainted right then. Your cheeks flushed even more.

He grinned, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear: "You came charging into our village, disrupting our peaceful way of life with your enchanting melodies and irresistible charm."

"Ah yes, because nothing says 'irresistible charm' quite like being half-way across the finish line of life.”

Both of you laughed together for a bit longer. You reminisced about the insanity of your unsually successful overthrow of the drow base. Halsin mused over how he was going to explain any of this to others’ in the village, especially the Archdruid. You promised to take the blame, it was your idea anyway.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the forest canopy, you and Halsin reluctantly disentangled yourselves from each other's embrace. The cool morning air raised goosebumps on your skin as you gathered your discarded clothing, stealing glances and sharing soft smiles as you dressed.

Halsin's companions, Frelma and Danan, had long since returned to the village, trusting their leader to get home. As you made your way back through the forest, Halsin's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with your own. The warmth of his touch sent a thrill through you.

The forest seemed different now, more alive and vibrant than ever before. Perhaps it was the afterglow of your encounter, or maybe it was the newfound connection you felt to this place and the man beside you.

As you and Halsin approached the druid village, you could hear the Archdruid's booming voice even before you saw him. His face was contorted with fury as he paced back and forth, gesticulating wildly. Hesitating slightly, you two walked through the entrance and were met with dangerous bellows, insults and worried eyes. Dafydd hit Halsin over the head a few times with his staff, while Anwen exasperately held your shoulders to check you for any injuries. Ultimately, they were right to be angry and concerned. The elder druid placed the blame on her son, although you insisted you were the main plotter (she didn’t believe you). You were certain they would ban you, yet they showered you in flower crowns and good mead. Halsin was eventually allowed into the festivities, after promising to clean up cow dung for 6 months as punishment.

You couldn’t stay in the village, as you had no desire to convert to druidism. Relucantly you returned to the city.

You vowed to come visit often, making your trips to the forest known, so he could see you. You promised to convince Anwen that Halsin could join you on your travels one day. Although that conversation had to wait a long while.

With each visit, you found little baskets of berries from the children and a newly whittled duck figurine that made you smile under your usual tree.

And every time your form became visible upon the horizon of the village, emerging from the forest path, Halsin’s eyes lit up and beamed at you.

[look-at-the-soul]

Can’t love in the dark (Part 2)

Tommy Shelby x reader

Sequel to “All I ask”

Request: kind of 🤭 @l1-l4 Andy threw a fantastic idea one day and I saw it, and from that moment I’ve been thinking about it daily… until this idea worked perfectly with another request for my Adele challenge ♥️ Andy, you asked for an angsty story, here you go! I hope you and everyone else like it 🥰 that gif was amazing and summed Tommy’s anger.

Summary: (There’s a time jump between this and the first part) Tommy keeps watching over Y/N, sending flowers, even after getting married to someone else. Until one day he exploded after finding the truth that caused a terrible accident.

“Can’t love in the dark” is one of my favorite Adele songs, the sentiment she sings with every time she performs it on stage gives me chills 🥹

⚠️ Angst but with a little surprise at the end 🤭

Word count: 4,727 (without the lyrics)

Making the decision to let Tommy go was the hardest thing you ever had to do, but it was for the best, or at least you tried to convince yourself of that. Crying your heart out at night you tried to comfort yourself by thinking that his baby would be able to grow next to his father. Forcing yourself to push aside the feelings and expectations you started to develop towards Tommy and the future he had shared with you that’d be taking off right after the races.

He’d have another priorities from now on.

The following day you quit your part time job at the Shelby Company Ltd. and focused entirely on the shoes shop. Tommy tried absolutely everything in his power but all he got in response was a sad glance that broke his heart or you leaving him at the shop speaking to himself while you pretended to be busy in the back.

There was nothing to be angry or resentful towards him, he slept with Grace before meeting you after all… but deep down you wished it was you instead of her the one getting pregnant.

With a heavy heart you thought how you could only dream of what could’ve been.

You had been on the edge ever since, struggling to sleep, eating the bare minimum, you felt like a fragile thing that’d break at the slightest contact, trying to hide from your poor father the sadness that you carried around like a heavy weight on your shoulders.

Nothing seemed to be working out the way he had planned. Not after you made it very clear that the future he had envisioned of the two of you together wasn’t possible, he held the hopes still, thinking you’d accept the marriage proposal and he could be there for his son, but you quickly let him him know that was way too modern and looked extremely bad for you. He tried convincing you over and over, assuring that it would be just fine because it was you the one he wanted to get married to, not Grace.

There was nothing he could say would convince you otherwise.

But what really hit him was that one time when you on the edge of crying asked him to leave, you actually yelled at him frustrated because it was too damn painful to accept the fact that he didn’t belong to you, you accepted out loud that you were jealous of Grace for giving him something you wouldn’t.

As weeks went by, he got the news that Grace’s husband ended with his own life, he decided to not get involved in that matter but it was hard to stay away at the same time because she was pregnant with his baby. She was deeply affected by the way events turned out, constantly on the edge and his major concern was the wellbeing of his unborn child so he did everything he could to ensure it. One thing led to the other and he ended up getting married with Grace because it was the right thing to do.

So here he was, stuck in a marriage for the wrong reasons, thinking of another woman, dreaming of another woman that was slowly, little by little slipping away from him. It was impossible to focus on the fucking papers in front of him, work had been pilling up because he was always looking for a ridiculous excuse to see you, even from afar.

Polly stormed into her nephew’s office fuming after learning that he had blinders guarding Y/N when she took the train to the south to see a new vendor. Despite what happened, Polly still had a good relationship with her.

“It’s been over a year Thomas, you have to let her go, you got married to Grace, have a son now… Y/N needs to live her life, rebuild and start over.”

“What the fuck do you mean start over?” He squinted his eyes, blowing away the smoke of his cigarette.

“Oh! Please don’t play dumb with me, do you really expect her to remain single forever?”

The realization sinking in, it felt as if he got kicked in the gut. The long gulp of whiskey didn’t help.

“No… no, there can’t be another man in her life.”

“Are you even listening to what you say?! She deserves to be happy!”

“What do you know? Ey?!”

“There’s someone who’s interested in her but he can’t get close because of your bloody guards!” Polly exploded.

Jaw clenched at the thought of another man starting to court you. No, anything but that.

“I’ve to protect her.” Tommy leant on his desk with palms wide open. Head hanging low.

“You lost her and all for your stupid revenge towards the woman you’re married now!”

“I never thought she would get pregnant, trust me that wasn’t my intention.”

“But it’s too late now for that… just let the girl move on.” Turning on her heels she walked towards the door. “And be more discreet, the maids keep gossiping about how you are sleeping in the guest room.”

****

Hearing the bell, you called from the back of the room; “The store is closed now, I just forgot to change the sign” but you cut yourself after finding him at the other side of the counter.

“Y/N… please.”

Take your eyes off of me so I can leave

I'm far too ashamed to do it with you watching me

Defeated, you gave up, manners long forgotten. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not welcomed here anymore?”

Your attitude made him remember the first time he saw you and Tommy had to hide the smirk that was about to appear on his lips.

Please, stay where you are

Don't come any closer

“Just leave, Thomas, for good.” You pointed at the door. “Goodness, sometimes I wish you could keep your fucking promise and burn this fucking place down so I would’ve a reason to go away.” You admitted with anger, pacing the small shop.

Don't try to change my mind

I'm being cruel to be kind

“I could never do that to you.”

“That look doesn’t charm me anymore, your shoes are new, I bet all bloody Birmingham has new shoes so you really don’t have anything else to do here.”

“I want to help you.”

“Don’t.” You stated bluntly. “I don’t want your help or anything for the matter.”

“When I look around and see all I got, I should be pleased by the way things turned out. But I can’t… because I’m not sharing it with you.”

He was sincere and genuine, you knew that.

“Those were your dreams, not mine.” You added one more -an unnecessary- coat of product to clean the shoes, just to distract you from his gaze.

“Polly mentioned you need to move on. But I can’t let you go.” He was selfish without question, but those strong feelings for you didn’t go away even after marrying Grace.

“So I assume you’ll just go and use that razor blade in any potential man I lay my eyes on.”

“That’s not a bad idea, I’ll consider it thanks.” He added with a smile, loving the irritation in your eyes.

“What do you want Thomas?”

“You.”

It was one word but it included everything he really wanted.

“And what do you suggest then? You want me to be your mistress? That’s not going to happen.”

“Y/N…”

Emotions got the best of her, her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t love you in the dark.”

“Do you nee-”

I can't love you in the dark

It feels like we're oceans apart

There is so much space between us

Baby, we're already defeated

Shaking your head you gave him a warning look. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to start throwing shoes at your head for real.”

That was an image he would’ve loved to see, and deep down he knew you would do it without a doubt. So he decided to save himself the embarrassment and headed to the door, but before he even got to open the door, he turned to give you one more look.

Everything changed me

“Please just don’t kiss him the same way you kissed me… cause if you do, you’ll remember me.”

Your fist closed around the shoe you had been holding, way to expensive to throw it away, so instead you threw the brush you had been using. Letting out a groan in frustration.

Time didn’t make it any easier to forget him, all the opposite the feelings for him seemed to be stronger than ever, you wouldn’t stand between him and his son. You returned every single present and basket with fruits and flowers he sent over the last months right after reading every note he added to whatever the present was. His words were tattooed in your heart.

You have given me something that I can't live without

You mustn't underestimate that when you are in doubt

If only he didn’t see Grace back then, you’d be enjoying life together.

****

“You wanted to see me Tommy?” Scudboat poked his head from the door.

“Come in, close the door.” As he saw the blinder step in, he took a long swing of his whiskey, the liquid burning. “I need you to ask your wife to go to Y/N’s shoes shop.”

“Again?” Asked in shock Scudboat, he just went last week, but as Tommy gave him a dead stare, he hid his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, again, but ask her to go on Monday after eleven o’clock that’s after Y/N left for the market, and it will take her a while to go back to the shop and you’ll give her mother this money.” Tommy planned. He knew you’d go then to prepare lunch for your father and eat with him, then you’d take over the shoe shop while your mother returned home.

Tommy knew every single step you took, at what time you got the newspaper and each vendor you’d visit. Yet, you were so far away from him.

It was unfair for you, he knew that. He’d never ask you to be his mistress or anything, he just wished to find a fucking way to get you back. It was hard also for him to admit there was a time when he thought that maybe, just maybe over time he’d learn to love Grace like he used to years ago, but deep down he knew he’d never fully forgive her for betraying him. Let alone having a son together would make their marriage work.

But I don't want to carry on like everything is fine

The longer we ignore it, all the more that we will fight

“What happened Johnny?” Tommy cleared his throat getting anxious by the minute.

“Ehh you won’t like I-” Johnny muttered but he cut himself off when Grace stepped into the office.

“Tommy…” she looked over at Johnny several times, like trying to give him a hint to leave them. “It’s getting late.”

He found it extremely annoying to get interrupted, leaning back in his chair he flicked his cigarette. “I know.”

“Are you coming to say goodnight to Charlie?” She tried batting her eyelashes at him, the sweetest smile on her lips.

“Later, I’m working.”

“Bu-”One annoyed look and a loud sigh and Grace brought a hand to the end of her hair to disguise her disappointment. “Alright.”

Rolling his shoulders, Tommy looked at Johnny again. “So?”

“Tom I don’t like this, why can’t you just leave the poor girl alone? You’ve a family now, a boy.”

But Tommy kept shaking his head. “I’m paying you to watch her and report her moves to me, not asking if you like it or not.”

Polly knew him, his uncle Charlie was able to read him like the palm of his hand, but Johnny couldn’t understand the motives to keep tracking Y/N down.

“You broke up a year ago, got married… there’s no reason to-”

“Johnny, I’m not going to ask you again.” He dragged the words, if it wasn’t for the desk between them, he would’ve Johnny Dogs by the collar of his shirt now.

“Y/N is dating someone.” Johnny murmured, keeping his head down.

A heavy silence filled the Arrow House office.

Please, don't fall apart

I can't face your breaking heart

Tommy got up from his chair and walked quietly towards the window finding darkness only.

“Who is he?” He asked with more control than he expected.

Johnny made a face. “Don’t do this to yourself Tommy, let her move on.”

The man with icy eyes gave him a side look, it was enough to make him talk.

“He’s a Doctor, respectable, good background, treats her right, sends flowers every four or five days, walks with her to the park on Wednesdays and Fridays, on Saturday he goes in for dinner but leaves right after that. On Sundays she brings him food to the hospital and...”

“Apple pie?” Tommy completed while Johnny nodded.

Tommy knew the fucking recipe from start to finish, he could almost smell it and his mouth watered by the simple memory of how it tasted.

Did she give the doctor a small piece with her fork like she used to do with him?

Did she kiss the corner of his mouth after having a bite to remove the remains of sugar?

“That’s all Johnny, thank you.” He swallowed hard, memories making his chest ache.

Johnny wondered if he should also tell Tommy another thing he found out while following them.

Stopping right in front of the heavy door, Johnny twisted the peaky cap between his hands.

“He bought a ring two days ago Tommy.”

“Johnny,” His emotionless voice stopped him, “don’t follow her, you can go back to the gypsy camp.”

Once alone, Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, defeated he took the glass of whiskey upstairs.

Looking at his son sleeping in his crib he couldn’t help but wonder why he made the mistake of fucking Grace that one time, he swore he could contain himself and he’d only use her to drive Campbell mad. But no, he was weak and the only time they were together she got pregnant. This wasn’t supposed to be how he envisioned his life, he wanted to date you, then propose to you, get married and start a family… you had been there for him to pick up the broken pieces from the ground that Grace left. Somehow you managed to make him softer, showed him he could trust and love again.

It wasn’t a surprise when you took a step back, didn’t accept his apologies, didn’t want to hear his explanations, packing your belongings from his office the very same night of the races, and closed the doors to your heart.

He begged, was willing to get on his knees to ask for forgiveness but you wouldn’t listen. His first mistake was to sleep with Grace that night, the second, marry her because she was with a child.

Was he being selfish? How could he let you go when you got so deep inside his heart?

You were slipping away from him, little by little, if you officially started a relationship with someone else, that man won’t waste time after realizing how fucking awesome you were, and if that happened, there was nothing left he could do to get you back.

I can't love you in the dark

It feels like we're oceans apart

There is so much space between us

“Why don’t you come to bed, Tommy?” Grace circled his desk and slipped her arms around his neck from behind. “It’s late.”

“In a minute.” He replied pretending to look at the papers scattered over the oak desk.

“I think you sho-”

“I said in a fucking minute!” He lost it.

Grace made a little jump when he raised his voice. “I heard what you said, I’m just trying to be a good wife.”

“Don’t try, Grace… just don’t try.” He added sharply.

“I’m doing everything I’m supposed to be doing Tommy, I take care of our house, look over Charlie, I make sure you’ve everything you need and yet I’m always alone here and when my husband is finally home by the end of the day I want him to take care of me.”

Tommy saw Grace toying with her wedding band.

“I’ve a load shit to do, alright?”

“Is that true or are you sleeping with some whore around?”

Her accusation made him snap his head at her. “What did you just said?”

“You haven’t even touch me in weeks…”

He wanted to sarcastically laugh at her question. You wouldn’t let him set a foot in your shop, let alone sleep in your bed.

“The way I see it, if you’re not with me that means you’re fucking someone else. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

He didn’t have the balls to say that the last time they slept together, he fantasized it was you instead of her, your name almost slipped out of his lips. But it would’ve drive Grace mad.

“I’m trying to go legal, Grace. That’s all… just go to sleep.”

“Tomm-” She started again but he cut her off.

“Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

Before she left, Tommy could swear he heard a sob but he was busy emptying the whiskey in his glass as he stared into the fire absently. Throwing his head back atop of the couch he wondered if you were by yourself that night.

The following day Grace insisted on joining him to visit his beloved horse, who was being trained at another facility. She started telling Charlie he’d see horses and the kid got too excited to advice her against the idea.

“… as I walked into the jewelry, I saw these lovely earrings that match perfectly…” Grace chatted non stop as they were on their way to the stables. He was looking forward a quiet day, but Grace had other ideas.

He just wished she could sleep just like Charlie was doing in her arms.

“Are you listening?”

Tommy dragged his eyes from the road to look at Grace for an instant, snapping out of his own thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“So what do you think?”

Shuddering, he took a long puff from his cigarette, feeling the smoke burn in his throat.

“I knew it, Tommy… you’re not paying attention.”

“Can you please stop this?!”

“Don’t raise your voice, you’ll wake up Charlie.” She tried but it was too late, the kid was already fussing. “See what you did?”

“You started this.” He pointed angrily.

“Shh, shh Charlie don’t cry.” Grace tried to get his boy settled, luckily he found a couple of horses out there.

“Look over there Charlie.” Tommy pointed. “There’s a horse.”

“Joshiee.” Charlie repeated, clapping.

Stopping the car, Tommy took Charlie in his arms, leaving Grace behind him. The gentleman in him wouldn’t be proud. But each passing day it was harder to pretend that he cared.

Placing his son on the ground, Tommy offered his hand to guide him.

“Come ‘ere.” Pointing at the fishes in the water trough, Tommy looked at the kid smiling with his chubby hand extended. “Goldfish keep the water clean.” He explained as if Charlie could understand. Grace joined them minutes later.

“I’ve been thinking… we should go away, for a family holiday.” Grace proposed brushing away a lock from her face.

Tommy shook his head instantly.

“Can’t do that, I’ve lots of work to do.”

“For a few days.” She tried again.

“No, you can go with Charlie though.”

Grace unamused expression didn’t have any effect on him. He was used by now.

*****

Tommy felt a rush of adrenaline through his body as he pushed past the people gathered on the street. The flames consuming the small shop, people trying to use buckets to attempt to extinguish the fire.

“Y/N!” Was all he could think of as he was desperately looking around for you.

We're not the only ones, I don't regret a thing

Every word I've said, you know I'll always mean

Everything was chaos.

Someone shoved him from behind, but since he let his guard down, he never noticed. An angry voice called for him and he recognized it right away.

“You must be happy now, finally kept your promise of burning my place down… MY MOTHER WAS INSIDE! You bastard! Get outta here!” Your fist landed on his chest as he was trying to process everything.

Tommy felt a rush of relief wash over him as he saw you were alive, but then he got in defensive mode.

“You destroyed years of hard work! My grand parents opened this store, my father started here cleaning shoes until he got a promotion and met my mother.” You spat with tears in your eyes, not caring about the venom and anger in your voice, or the people staring. “I HATE YOU THOMAS SHELBY, and I hope you pay for this.”

“I didn’t do this.” He let out a heavy sigh, shocked by your accusation.

His heart was shattered to know you thought he could do something like this. His stomach turned into a tight knot as he found the disappointment in your eyes.

“As if I didn’t know you, leave for good and don’t you ever come back.” You spat with anger oozing from every pore.

It is the world to me that you are in my life

But I want to live and not just survive

Walking backwards, he stumbled with someone who was trying to help. On his way to his vehicle he saw your mother sitting next to another woman on bench, at least she wasn’t injured.

“Find whoever did this.” Tommy instructed one of the blinders before leaving the place, he still couldn’t believe this was happening, but he had an engagement to attend and besides there was nothing he could do if you didn’t want him there.

Rushing into Arrow House he needed to hurry up to be on time, luckily Frances had his outfit prepared. The phone had been ringing in his office, but he really needed to get out of the house as soon as possible, after adjusting the last touches to his tuxedo, he moved to walk around the car, finding Grace already waiting for him. She welcomed him with a smile and a kiss that took him by surprise, there was something in her eyes different, it seemed like she didn’t had been bothering him about another woman in his life.

“Everything will get better for us after tonight Tommy, I just know.” She checked her reflection.

He doubted it was a possibility, but decided to have a peaceful night for once, specially at an event like this. He needed to raise funds.

“Where have you been? You were almost late.” She asked casually disturbing the peace he was looking for.

“Had some trouble at the shop. Finn messed up.” He lied.

“Hmm that’s weird, I looked for you there and couldn’t find you.”

“Went to the Garrison afterwards, that’s the reason I was late.” The lies slipped from his lips so easily.

She wanted to add something else, but Polly intercepted him by the door. “Scudboat has been looking for you, he looked deadly worried but wouldn’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Polly not now, please.” Turning around his head, he found the city Council leader with Grace.

And as they engaged in conversation, Tommy’s gaze was fixed by the entrance, as Father John Hughes and that insufferable MP entered. He couldn’t even stand to watch them, they weren’t welcome so he better hurry up to finish whatever the hell they’re wanted.

“Brother you need to know something.” Arthur whispered into his ear pushing him towards the staircase for some privacy.

With a heavy sigh, Tommy shook his head. “Not now Arthur, I can’t deal with anything else right now.” He spotted his wife talking to that mad Duchess.

“It was Grace.” Arthur admitted.

Confused, Tommy gave him a long look.

“Grace started the fire at the shoes shop, she saw a woman inside and thought it was Y/N. Someone recognized her.”

His head was spinning, anger building up and reaching unknown limits. Everything was so confusing, the bile rising up in his throat. Y/N could’ve been dead by now.

Storming like a bull he pushed past the people to find his wife.

“Come with me.” He grabbed Grace by the arm roughly making her gasp.

“Tommy I was talking to-”

“Why are you so worked up Mr. Shelby?” Tatiana smirked. His head was pounding. “I was telling your wife about the sapphire she’s wearing.”

“Tatiana said it’s Russian.” Grace interjected eager to participate.

And somehow the conversation escalated quickly, Tatiana kept pushing Grace’s buttons but at the moment he needed to keep the Duchess at bay. He’d deal with his wife’s jealousy later.

Scanning the room, he found Ada, fucking finally! Now he needed to deal with a spoiled princess he thought unamused. As his sister charmed Grace about a fucking donation, he tried to convince Tatiana it was a bad idea to go to the factory, but she was stubborn and had certain urgency to fuck him. There was nothing more discouraging than a woman selling herself off.

He was done. Fucking done of everything; the economic league, the duchess, his wife’s lies. This woman was absolutely mad

But time stopped as the duchess told him the sapphire had been cursed by a Gypsy. His ears were ringing, a shiver ran down his spine. Tommy had lost his faith back in France, but if there was one thing he believe in was spirits and Gypsy curses.

Speechless, he reached his wife in a few long strides.

“We need to talk.” Waving his hands anxiously he pointed at Grace’s necklace. “Take it off.”

“No, why?” Grace hissed visibly pissed off. “Tommy you gave it to me. Why are you doing this? You want to give it to someone else?”

“Here we fucking go.” He scoffed bothered. “I don’t fucking care, you want me to say this in front of them? Fine, I’ll tell you what I just learned.”

Anger was boiling inside of him, he simply didn’t care anymore.

He couldn’t explain the real reasons behind his request. “You told me you stopped by the office earlier huh?” He glanced someone passing towards the grand salon for diner. “But you forgot to mention that afterwards you stopped by at a shoes shop, the last place where a woman like you would be, Grace.” Looking up at the ceiling he blew the air he had been holding. “You started a fire at that shoes shop and don’t even try to lie, because people saw you.”

Grace’s features contorted. “Yes, I did it… because you’re distant with me, I know you wanted to marry that shoe saleswoman.”

Tommy saw red. “Yeah, I was going to marry her and when she heard you were pregnant she took a step back, walked away from me. That’s the biggest and selfless act of love.”

That's why I can't love you in the dark

“And where would you be today if it wasn’t for me?” She asked with her jaw clenched.

“Right here with her giving a beautiful speech about kindness.”

“I’m glad she’s dead by now.” She attempted to walk away, but Tommy took her by the shoulders.

“You should be thankful sh-”

“I don’t care about anything related to her.” Grace replied.

“Well, you should.”

“And why would I care about her?”

“BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT HER!” He lost control, Polly turned her head around at the shouting. “MORNING, NOON, AND NIGHT… I CARE ABOUT HER.”

Grace walked backwards, looking down.

“You’re lucky she wasn’t at the shop, she’s alive and I’m going to find her after the gala is over.” Tommy admitted triumphantly.

A man stormed in his direction out of the blue.

“For Angel!” He shouted right before firing his weapon.

The gunshot echoed in every corner of the room.

In the middle of the chaos, Tommy noticed Grace’s body leaned against him harshly, there was blood everywhere and people screaming. Tommy fell to the floor by the impact and Grace’s weightless body.

He called for help, and ambulance, anyone but Grace was already gone…

Someone took her lifeless body away from him and he wasn’t able to react, he remained frozen on spot in a corner. Replaying the images over and over.

Y/N swallowed hard after debating the entire afternoon whether if you were doing the right thing or not, yet here you stood if front of the venue where the Shelby family was leading a gala to raise funds to help people in need. One of the many dreams Tommy had shared with you.

Once the fire was controlled and people started to leave, one of the blinders who helped your mother to come out of it unharmed to let you know it had been Tommy’s wife the one who caused it, not him.

And guilt had been eating you alive ever since.

You needed to apologize for all the terrible things you said to him. You didn’t hate him, said it out of anger.

“Y/N! Oh, there’s been a tragedy… Grace is dead.”

****

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I’m so happy the first part was so well accepted, hoping this following part will like you too… did you see that coming? If you have a few minutes, I’d LOVE to hear what you think!

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyya (can’t tag) @holacia3 @ironpen @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @spookyboogyuniverse @amberpanda99 @immyowndefender @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @trixie23 @shelundeadxxxx

[runninriot]

another one for the @steddiemicrofic april prompt fool

only fools

wc: 454 | rated: M | cw: mild/implied sexual content | tags: newly established relationship, boys in love making out, Elvis lyrics

Wise men say

It’s funny sometimes, how the radio seems to be playing the actual soundtrack to Eddie’s life.

    Only fools rush in

Because boy, did they rush things

   But I can’t help

and boy oh boy, did Eddie try his best not to,

   Falling in love with you

yet failed so miserably.

He still can't really wrap his head around the fact that he's actually dating Steve Harrington now. Apparently. If the fact that he can feel Steve's mouth on his neck is anything to go by.

Or the stupidly romantic love confessions they shared earlier.

Or the fact that they're currently together on Eddie's bed - naked and horny and a little too love drunk to think straight.

Steve's hands in his hair, Eddie's fingernails scraping down Steve's back, the low sound of the radio mixing with the sound of their heavy breathing and wet kisses. It's like a dream, one Eddie had too many times before. Only this time it's real.

He's in bed with the king while The King sings a song about love and it's hard to accept that Steve's lips on his own are something he can just have now.

And fuck, does it feel amazing to lick deep into Steve's mouth and to suck on his tongue, to swallow each whimpering moan right out of him as their bodies are trying to fuse together. One middle grinding against the other, searching for something where they're hard and wanting, aching for more as their kisses become hungrier and their noises more desperate.

   "God, baby. I want you," Eddie says and Steve answers by tugging his hair.

   "Want you, too. Need you, Eddie."

Steve's on top of him before Eddie knows what's happening, arms raised above his head where Steve pins them down. Steve's mouth is everywhere all at once - his lips, his neck, his chest. Kissing and licking, soft little nibbles and rough bites; Eddie wants him to leave marks just so that tomorrow, when he wakes up from this hazy state of mind, there will be signs to prove what they did, what they are.

    Some things are meant to be-

like they are. They must be. There's no way this would ever have happened if they weren't destined for each other. If life hadn't planned this all along.

Eddie's fingers dig into the firm flesh of Steve's ass because he can, he's allowed to, Steve told him he's his for as long as he wants him.

Oh, how Eddie wants him.

    “Fuck me, baby."

Steve looks up at him, eyes full of stars, a smile brighter than the sun, and Eddie will gladly die a fool if it means he can have this in exchange.

[fangisms]

all of the girls you loved

A/N: i am a SUCKER for a good song fic and obvi a sucker for some good Taylor content (gif creds: @merakiaes)

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Every woman that he knew brought him here. You want to teach him how forever feels. 2.6k words.

Warnings: so much crying why am i in a mood, fluff mostly!, song fic, song lyrics, pet names (poppet, dear), heartbreak, brief angst, ONE FUCKING CURSE WORD. jealousy, being stood up

1984

"your mother brought you up loyal and kind"

You'd been chasing the little red haired boy through the train station for the better part of the last ten minutes. But only because he tugged at your hair and stuck his tongue out at you. He started it. He's got this worn grey sweater, and you can tell his jeans were hand-me-downs from the patchwork in the knees. Probably from the boy, his older brother, with the wavy red hair carrying far too many books and stumbling up the train's steps.

Your antagonist giggles and ducks behind the brick pillar in the center of the station. You roll your eyes and round the otherside, tapping on his shoulder with a grin. He yelps and skitters away behind his mother. She has a small baby tucked in her arm and another cooing from a pram decorated with ribbons, lace, and wicker.

"Georgie!" She scolds him for tugging on her skirt before looking down to see your little face staring back at her. "Hello, dear, what's your name?"

The boy peeks his head out from behind her leg, round cheeks flushed a soft pink from all the running. You fold your arms over your chest and scowl at him.

"Determined little thing, aren't you?" she says with a sweet smile and kind eyes, "Have you been terrorizing this young lady?"

"It's not my fault, mum! She looks funny!"

"George. That's not how we talk about other people, now, is it?" she warns.

"No, mum."

"No, of course it's not. Now, you apologize this instant. Your brothers give me enough grief as is."

His wicked gaze meets yours, and you scowl hard as you can back at him. He squints. You purse your lips.

"I'm sorry because my mum told me so!"

You pout, "apology not accepted! I hope I never see you again!"

And with that, he watched the little girl with the wild hair and the polka-dotted pinafore skip away. Never to be seen again. Until the next year. And each year following the last.

1994

"teenage love taught you there's good in goodbye"

George has got a mouth full of the loudest bubblegum in existence when he comes roaring up behind you in the hallway, laying his arm across your shoulders.

"Evening, poppet. I assume you've heard the news," he chirps, smacking his gum in your ear proudly.

"You're disgusting, George," you say, shrugging his arm away but still matching his pace, "and I don't care that you bribed Niamh Ward into being your date to the Yule Ball."

"I didn't bribe her! She asked me and I said 'yes'"—he blows a gummy bubble in your face, and it bursts with a ringing pop—"D'you reckon she'll kiss me if I dance well enough?"

He twirls off down the hallway, ending his mini routine with a flourish of jazz hands.

"I don't reckon any girl will ever want to kiss you with moves like that."

"Oh, you're just a cynic. I'm perfectly snoggable, whether I can dance or not." He takes your wrist and drapes your arm in the crook of his own, and you scoff when he leans in to pop another bubble in your face. "Who's taking you to the ball, anyway? That Durmstrang halfwit?"

You yank your arm away and stop dead in your tracks. It's a well-known fact that you'd been waiting for George to ask you to the Yule Ball since first year. You thought for sure he'd ask you. But the time came and went and you each found other dates, other outfits, other plans. And you hate that deep down, a small part of you is still waiting for him to ask you. But you'd never do that to Niamh. Not even for George.

"As a matter of fact, yes," you say, "and his name is Johan—"

"What kind of name is Johan?"

He's still smacking his gum like he knows exactly how to get on your nerves. And after all these years, it's no wonder.

"You're so immature. I'll see you later."

"Oh, come on—"

"No, George," you huff, not turning around until you clear the corner and wipe your wet cheek with the sleeve of your robes.

...

The Great Hall has never looked more decadent. Draped in glitz and the magic of the holidays. Everyone's absolutely buzzing with excitement, ever-present gossip, and the beauty of students dressed to the nines. And in the midst of it all, you still spot him from across the room.

Of course, Johan is the perfect gentleman. He even asked if you'd like to match your gown to his traditional red dress robes. It was a lovely idea, and it wasn't hard to pick out a lovely chiffon, maroon dress. He said you looked beautiful and danced with you most of the night, but there was still that sickly ache in your chest like flesh and tendon left split by two cold hands. George's hands.

After you told Johan you didn't feel well, he left you alone at one of the shimmering tables. You felt bad practically leading him on, but it's not like you'd been lying about your attraction to him. Just about your attraction to George.

You don't turn to face the person who plops onto the stool beside you. You're pretty dedicated to flicking the thin straw around the rim of your glass at this point.

"I left my date to come talk to you, so you better have a stellar reason for looking so glum."

George. You know he's trying to cheer you up. And he knows it's not exactly working how he'd hoped. "Come on, poppet. It's the Yule Ball. You've been looking forward to this for, what, six years?"

He hates that when you turn to face him, you've got tears dripping from your chin, jaw, nose, lashes. He hates that there's a small part of him that wishes he could have fixed it for you. 

"What's wrong?" he whispers, scooting closer and catching a slow tear slipping over your cheekbone. You flinch away and lean your head in your hand, closing your eyes.

"You have no idea."

George chortles and shrugs, "well, yeah. That's sort of why I'm asking." You land a hearty wallop on his arm, not even looking when you swing your fist at him. "Alright, that was deserved. Now, tell me. I don't like it when you shut me out."

"Why are you doing this, George? Why don't you just leave me alone? Go hang out with Niamh or something," you say. It's accusatory, sure, but that's the point. The inflection was aimed for the heart. Spear tipped with arsenic just to make it sting more.

He chews the inside of his cheek, rubbing the back of his neck when you dodge his gaze and sniffle.

"That might be a tad difficult seeing how she stood me up."

Shit.

"George, I didn't mean—"

"No, no, it's okay. She caught a... a stomach bug, or something. Spent all morning hunched over the girl’s toilet," he mumbles, loosening his tie. And you catch just the smallest smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. Like there's some kind of amusement in his own misery. "I feel bad for her, honestly."

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea." You grab his hand and lean closer. He looks tired up close. Like the light usually at home in his eyes as twinkled out and left him dimmed.

"You've nothing to be sorry for. Fate is fate, after all." He brushes his hair out of his face and takes a deep breath, squeezing your hand. "Dance with me?"

Yes, of course, you want to shriek. I'd love nothing more from the boy who used to yank on my hair and call me names and tell me he loved my sparkly shoes. An honor, you think, but the words don't reach. Just a smile.

"Sure," you say, letting him tug you in the direction of the crowd. The right direction, you think, the direction you've longed for. Then he spins you into his chest, and you feel the shallow rumble of his laugh in your fingertips.

"Was Johan a better dancer than me?" he says, swaying your bodies like tender obligation. You cock an eyebrow.

"Johan stepped on my toes every four steps and nearly tore my dress."

"...So?"

"Yes," you tease.

"Shut up. Let me make this dance a good one. For you."

You look up at him and he thinks he's never seen someone look so clueless and yet so completely beautiful. From the gloss on your lips to the gems on your shoes and even now, mascara smudged and hands shaky, he thinks he'd like to look at you for as long as you'll let him. And when you shuffle closer between songs, he has to catch his breath against your temple.

"Your hair's gotten so long, Georgie," you whisper, slipping your hand up and over his shoulder, to the back of his neck with a smile pressed to his warm cheek.

"Like it?"

"I’ll always like it."

He pleads to Merlin you can't feel the rattletrap pounding of his heart. His hand moves of its own volition, spread across the small of your back like he's seen in some romance films. The slow dance scene is always the most romantic. The pinnacle of their love thus far. The event to dissolve any prejudice leftover in their heads, and any pride hidden in the last cracks in their hearts.

"George, I have to tell you something important—"

"Shh, poppet, just dance with me a little longer."

And you suppose. It could wait that little while longer. Another dance. Another day. It'd come up again and break your heart, but it'd be too pressing to put off eventually.

So you let him hold your hand a little tighter, sway you in circles a little slower, and keep your heart beating a little louder.

1996

"every woman that you knew brought you here // i wanna teach you how forever feels"

The something important you had tried to tell George that night was that you'd be staying with your estranged aunt in Spain over the course of the next school year. Your final school year. You'd be leaving Hogwarts—leaving George—and spending the year homeschooling over in Spain.

You left that Spring to spend your days in the Spanish countryside, drinking in the sunshine and dancing to the music of the cicadas. It had devastated George. It had devastated all of the Weasleys. They were so used to housing you most summers, and the change was quite unwelcome. Less place settings, less baggage clunking up the stairs, less laughter. He could only hope you were happy. And that he'd be able to see you again one day in the future.

"Georgie?"

You caught him off guard. He nearly tripped and cracked a tooth on the steps when you called his name. He and his twin brother had made a spectacle of Ninety-three Diagon Alley in the time you'd been away. And you had just happened to wander in and find him hurrying up the technicolor stairs after his brother.

Nothing felt real when he met your eyes for the first time in a year and change. The sirens and bells and sparklers went fuzzy as he realized just how beautiful you'd gotten since he last saw you. Beautiful enough to make him wildly nervous. Enough to make him sweat.

"My Poppet." He says it gently, grinning when you bat your lashes and hold your arms out.

"Christ, I've missed you, George," you huff, burying your face in his shoulder when he wraps his arms around you.

"You have no idea."

You tease him with a laugh, "Well, yeah," pulling away to wrap your lithe fingers around his tie. "Look at your hair! It's so short!"

"Like it?" He runs his fingers through the scruff at the back of his head. You squint and pat the soft tufts at the top of his head.

"I love it. You know I do."

He sighs, ushering you to the back of the shop all while trying to conceal a giddy smile.

"I've had an entire year to reflect on all the reasons why you abandoned me, poppet. I made a list"—He takes your wrist and drapes your arm in the crook of his own—"Starting with that time I told you your unicorn shirt was quote, unquote, 'for babies'."

"You have to include my stunning defense, Weasley"—you clear your throat—"'I am a baby, and you're just a rotten little boy!'"

"How could I forget?" He pushes open a door to the very neglected office towards the back of the building. Papers stacked on the desk, a cobweb in the corner. Well-loved. "A little privacy, mademoiselle?"

"I'd be delighted."

He sweeps the dust off a brown leather chair by the desk, offering the seat to you with a shy smile.

"Oh, George," you whisper, fiddling with the clasp of your purse with watery eyes and a pout like the one you gave him the first time he saw you.

"Come here, sweetheart," he says, hurrying you into his embrace with the feeling of being gutted by your sad eyes weighing heavy on him.

"There's just so much"—you gasp and cover your mouth when you sob—"So much I've missed and so much I want to tell you and so much I wish I had seen and done with you..."

"I know. I know, I feel the same," he huffs, "I missed you more than words can describe. I didn't know what to do with myself."

"I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I thought—"

"No. No, poppet, of course not"—he holds you tighter, pressing you to the curves of his body, holding you like clay and hot glass—"You came back, that's all I could ever ask for."

You pull back and let him wipe the tears from your cheeks, leaving faint kisses on each temple. And when he finally tears himself away from your skin, he's only left desperate for the contact. His thumb brushes you cheek, and you hold his wrist, lashes fluttering to meet his soft gaze. Desperation. Exhaustion. Relief. It's all there in the palm of your hand, and just at his fingertips.

Twelve years is far too long to be loving anyone the way you love each other. Completely but without the parts of love we sometimes need most. The honesty and openness, the comfort, and more than ever, the kisses. He curses his wild eyes for sweeping the length of your parted lips. His wild eyes giving away his secrets and calling him a damned fool.

You catch his mouth with yours, innocent at first peck, but he kisses you back, unsure of where his hands should go, wanting perfection, especially when your nose bumps his and makes you smile into the wetness of the kisses.

"I want everything," you whisper, forced to choose between air and George, "I have loved you since the day we met."

"That's very cheesy, my dear." He rests his forehead against yours, cupping the side of your neck, thumb resting gingerly over the column of your throat. Just to hold something delicate. Fragile. His.

"Think you can do better?"

"Hmm," he clears his throat, "You stole my heart and... I don't think I want it back."

"Gross! You win."

"I meant it."

He winks and pecks your bottom lip sweetly, only to realize you're tearing up, head tilted back and hands fanning at your eyes. He holds your waist and you shake your head with a defeated laugh.

"I'm such a crybaby."

"My favorite."

"You're awful, Georgie."

"I know," he says, finally, "I know."

masterlist

[hokusu]

Post-breakup dabihawks artist AU where they just release nasty songs about each other until they finally get back together.. 

'I hope you hate this song like I hate you too / when you hear my voice, I hope it makes you sick / next time you sing along, you can choke on it' (x)

. . . . .

They break up. And make it everyone's fucking problem. Tabloids can't keep up. They're on every front page of every celebrity magazine over the span of months. They air all their dirty laundry out into the public, not shying from the specifics or the too much information, not shying from all of the worst about each other. Because no one knows them better than the way they know each other.

And they know how to hit where it hurts, they know how to dig under each other's skin and there's so much bitter, resenting unresolved anger about everything  between them, they can't just let it go. So they don't hold back and they get back into the studio, do the only thing they have left without each other, lyrics flying off the tip of their tongue as they sing about how much they hate each other on every song to their new album.

Because surprise surprise, they're competitive assholes both releasing new singles. New albums. Thirteen songs. Thirteen tracks solely about each other. To be released on the same date.

If they weren't so damn good at what they do, they'd surely be committing career suicide.

They're not subtle, they throw digs about each other on every interview and talkshow host they get invited to to promote their album. The inspiration to their songs, the meaning behind their lyrics, it's all painfully each other and they don't pretend it's not.

And their singles all sell off the charts, doing numbers they've never done before, taking turns beating each other off the number 1 spot with every week that goes on. No other artist even comes close. It's just... them. Tied for topping the charts. Weeks after weeks.

The public doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse, but their music is on fire and their lyrics are downright nasty, but it's also some of the rawest and honest emotions they've heard and they can't get enough. 

Their fans feud, but most of all, many of them overlap.

Like their lives. Their music. Their inevitable everything. They're attacking each other on every soundtrack but it's almost like... their albums compliment each other when listened to back to back.

Hidden behind every message of 'fuck you', like an unhinged love declaration.

On the day of their album release, they sell out through every store across the nation.

Months later, they are both  nominated to win awards for album of the year, song of the year, best vocals, best lyrics, so on and so forth...

It's the first time they're cited to attend a public event together since they broke up and the whole country is watching. 

And when they win, arms full of awards, in their final acceptance speech, Hawks calls Dabi to join him on the stage

Their eyes level, a careful raised brow and a taunting challenged smirk on their lips. The room is silent. 

Hawks hold the mic up, but his eyes never leave Dabi's, has never really left his since the moment they walked away from each other, and he inhales a breath and then exhales, "I personally want to thank Dabi for all these awards. Because I wouldn't have done it if I didn't fucking hate you. So thanks, sweetheart."

And Dabi laughs, mean and just as amused as he raises his own awards from the evening up to Hawks and mouths, "Fucking hate you too, angel."

Everyone holds their breath, there's so much heat and intensity between that single moment, like they're all witnessing the most private moment to their lives, the chance of a fight not out of question.

No one expects Hawks to reach out and pull against Dabi's tie, fingers fisted against silk as he leans over and kisses him hard, right there right then.

And Dabi's free hand goes to tangle into Hawks', fingers tugged roughly into golden locks and kisses him back, just as hard.

In front of the audience and live streaming award show for the world to see, right as they just won best everything for the album on how much they hate each other.

The lights dim, the music starts and Hawks breaks into performing his song of the year– and Dabi sings right along with him. Because of course, every song that Hawks has released he knows by heart now.

He hates those fucking songs.

And he fucking love Hawks.

[ninnosaurus]

Three’s a Crowd: Two vs. One

I've had this silly thing from my topside AU in my head for literal AGES now and I just had to write it out.

Contains: Brotherly shenanigans. Mikey and Raph decides to tap dance on Leo's every nerve during a car ride by blasting music Leo can't stand. (It's CupcaKke, they're blasting 'Duck Duck Goose' with the sole purpose of pissing Leo off in public). Bayverse.

Warnings: Vulgar language, but it's literally just song lyrics

Leo laid half on his couch, half off it, his iPad resting on its stand on his plastron. He'd been watching the same livestream for about two hours. Not moving from his place. He was bored. Out. Of. His. Mind.

He'd already done the chores. Laundry was folded and put away. He'd scrolled his forums. Checked the auction sites. Nothing.

Groaning he picked his iPad up, got off the couch and trudged to the kitchen where he heard the familiar tune of a FaceTime call coming in. Touching accept he put the pad on the counter next to the fridge.

"Hey, Raph."

Leo smiled to himself when he heard the familiar sound of a large family in the background.

"Who are you calling?!"

"Guys, guys. Tone it down a notch, yea?"

Raph grunted as he was attacked and his arms pulled down.

"Leo."

Leo chuckled to himself, leaning back and watching Raphael get tugged at. Two faces came into view before his brother managed to yank himself loose. "HI UNCLE LEE!"

"Offsprings. Go harrass your mom instead." He shook his head as his face came back into view. "Tanner and Harls says hey."

The oldest popped a grape into his mouth. "I noticed. What's up?"

"Me and Mike are going grocery shopping, ya in?"

He chewed slowly, contemplating the offer. It's better than sitting at home, but he's also probably going to get shit he don't need.

" 'kay, I'm in. Pick me up in 20?"

"Mhm."

"Hey, boys!"

Their oldest brothers slapped them both on their shoulders as he climbed into the backseat. They chat about anything and everything for a while, until Mikey pipes up as he notice how they get closer to the city.

"Oh, yeah? Ya hear that, Fearless? Mikey has a new sound system."

"Sooo... I got a hold of Don the other week and we put a new sound system in my car."

The turtle next to him picked up on the tone of his brother's voice, catching on right away.

Dread. Fear.

"No!" Grabbing ahold of Raph's back rest he pulls himself forward. "Don't."

At a red light, Mikey pulls his phone up. "Let's try it out!"

All it takes for Leo to want to die is to hear the first sound of the song, before long he's trapped in a car with two brothers singing along to the song.

"Mikey, please turn it off!"

I thought I came but I peed on the dick

Pubic hair got inches, that's weave on the dick

Pussy like a tree, it got leaves on the shit

"Turn it UP? Yeah I can turn it up!" He cackles as he cranks the volume up even more. The bass making the sides of the car vibrate.

"WHAT? NO! Ughh..." Leo rubs his face with his hands before putting them over his ears. He fuckin' hates this music...

"My cakes got fatter by usin' cum as the batter!"

My nudes in your phone, takin' up your data

My cakes got fatter by usin' cum as the batter

Raph nudged Mikey on the arm. "Man, it's WARM out today!"

The voice of Raphael brings Leo back to the now. "No! Absolutely not! Don't you fucking dare do what I think you're about to, Raph!" He looks on in fear as another red light is coming closer and closer, fearing what is about to go down.

"You're right, bro. It IS warm out today. I'll lower the windows for us!"

I only call you Captain, 'cause your dick is off the hook

I can make your dick stand up (are you ready?)

Like Statue of Liberty once we fuck (so hard)

"MICHELANGELO! I am BEGGING YOU! Turn. It. Off or I'm disowning your ugly ass!"

His brother just laughed as he continued to sing along, albeit being way too into it.

"Cut the dick off, took it home with me, 'cause any dick that long, it belong with me"

Just in time for them to stop at a red light. All of the car's windows are down. It was enough for them all to already be famous for being the savior of human kind, and for allowing other mutants to walk the streets.

"This pussy iconic, yeah it moan with me, put your finger in the hole, come bowl with me."

Turn double-dutch with yo' balls while I'm jumpin' on your dick

Tell your grandma sew my pussy, since you split open my clit

Coochie guaranteed to put you to sleep so damn soon

Ridin' on that dick, I'm readin' Goodnight Moon

Ugh... I'm not looking forward to seeing this on Twitter later.

Some girls next to him laughed as he saw them pull up a phone, obviously filming how the youngest was grinding his hips in tune with the song. With Raphael laughing so hard he was having a hard time breathing. Meanwhile, Leo was trying, but failing, to hide from everything.

The brief thought of faking his own death and moving back into the sewers crossed his mind.

Taglist: @redsrooftopprincess, @the-cauldron-witch, I have to tag @thelaundrybitch too because Leo is s u f f e r i n g and needs a hug.

Lemme know if you want on iiiit!

[hools]

Sorry if this is a weird question, but how do you come up with your drawings? What does through your mind while making them? I find your compositions so gorgeous and intriguing but I can't really figure out how you approach things since everything's very shifty and abstract. It's really gorgeous work, I'm so glad I discovered your art :,)

hey first of all this isnt a weird question at all & i'm really glad you enjoy my art heheheheheehe. there's an incoming large largely unformatted block of text that i hope you dont mind!

Honestly there are a billion things going through my mind at a time while I'm drawing and they all sort of bump into each other and cancel each other out like opposing particles. If you've seen any of my streams i'm usually very fast and iterative in a lot of my process and i rarely ever slow down even past the early parts like thumbnailing and sketching. i kind of let my hands do the talking more, yknow? but even then theyre never talking about a single thing at a time. everything interacts with everything, which is probably why i always end up getting lost and meandering. composition is not independent from color & value and neither are they from texture and perspective. its hard thinking of all of the ways they mesh and react to one another so i spend less of my energy thinking and more of it doing, and then assessing once something interesting comes about it. i guess then i prioritize my Hand Movement Actioning and Eye Vision Seeing over my Brain Neuron Assessing. but even though iterations can come and go quick this kind of informed throwing-against-the-wall isn't really the Fastest. but its fun. and you get to stuff all the unused ideas in your pocket for later.

even though i did say how connected everything is i always seem to start with composition. it kind of affects and informs everything the most at least on an individual piece level. with thumbnails & composition in general i think youre supposed to think huge right. so i Always think huge. push everything as much as you can. start with a crazy angle (not necessarily angle meaning "perspective" but like an angle between two lines) and border your scene within it. take an already steep foreshortening and steepen it further with the transform tool & see what shapes form from the empty & filled space. shrink your subject to only fit 3/4ths of the canvas and build around it to make it work. blow things up (enlargen) and blow things up (remove & obliterate). with composition you have so much room for fuckery if you give yourself the grace to accept the fuckiness.

and i guess this freedom to fuck around and iterate and build and build and build upon comes from how most of the time my initial ideas are very. vague? abstract like you've said. sometimes its Just a song or a song lyric and nothing else (no characters to attach to just the feel and my gut). sometimes its a less than 5 word phrase i felt strongly about throughout the day. in my me-only discord server i have messages in #to-draw channel that just say shit like "something about guitar straps" "thanks for knowing me!" "angel don't look at me" "DITHER QUEEN" (<-been meaning to make something with that). for things that have specific guidelines i spend more time thinking conceptually (the "rare animal" coelacanth drawing being an example) but otherwise it mostly comes out after. again. the first strokes. after you put the meat and bones on the canvas. an artist at a workshop i was at last year when i was in my own head about Needing to have a fleshed tangible Profound concept before being able to start something told me not to underestimate the stories that can be told just by your hands. and i think thats what stuck with me the most.

& one last thing i wanna mention is how despite how much i revel in the chaos of the process ive found how important limits are. i don't like cutting back on everything but i like cutting back on some things. sometimes i cut out backgrounds for solid fills and i love them that much more. sometimes i have little subconscious rules in a piece that i try not to break to keep a little level of consistency. if somethings a big wonderful mess already then i love a limited pallet and i love keeping parts empty and i love being able to breathe a little. yknow. but still go over the top in the other parts you have so much permission to. less is more but have a little more in your art than less. YKNOW?

but yeah thanks again for your kind words and wanting to listen to me talk. i havent been drawing much at all so these arent too fresh on the mind but i think i got a lot of what i wanted to say out. i hope u and others can get things out of this! if i made any sense <3

[pendarling]

Soulmates For Life 4

<< Start < Part 3 •

"I only have eyes... for you~."

Villain loved the Flamingos. Well, actually, Hero did, but subsequently, it would eventually be their favourite as well. Every song Hero liked every colour, every star. Everything Hero liked, so did Villain, except, of course, their version of "justice."

They turned off their phone as Henchman approached from behind.

"Dude, where's your thread?"

"Gone."

Confused, Henchman looked around the floor and walls as if it must've strung itself up somewhere. "How the fuck did you lose it? It's attached to you."

Villain lit the lighter in their hand, shutting and opening it over and over again rhythmically, "Some things don't stay."

"Can you not be so depressing and poetic? This is so abnormal. I've never seen this." Henchman sat beside them and placed a hand on their shoulder, "You good?"

They sighed in response and shut the lighter again; the last person they wanted to check on their well-being was Henchman. Of all persons, they weren't exactly the type to think of others. It almost annoyed Villain to no end; if they could ignore everyone like Henchman could, they wouldn't be so tangled up in their emotions. They looked at the thread still latched onto Henchman, "You still have yours?"

"Yeah, 'cause I never looked."

"Why? Do you... just not care at all? Or..."

"When the time is right, whoever it is, we'll find each other someday." They crossed their legs. "This thing right here," They waved around their hand, the thread twisted and turned on itself, "Doesn't tell me anything. I will find out for myself."

They stayed silent for a moment, thinking, thinking, always thinking for another fix. "I thought you said to not be so poetic."

"Did I?" They shrugged, "Whatever helps."

"It's strange how we operate."

Henchman nodded, "Yup, but that's life, and life's not fair."

"Why do we need to kill someone over something they can't control?"

Henchman snapped their finger, "That's a good question." One that couldn't be answered either. The only purpose the red string served was to ruin Villain's life instead of saving it from execution. Although they weren't sure if those rumours were true, it still terrified them to die; it terrified them to be singled out from all the other villains.

To fall in love with Hero was to accept any punishment that came afterwards, and they were unwilling to take those risks. "I don't know if we're in a garden... or on a crowded avenue..." They hummed the rest of the tune. Hero loved the Flamingos, and they loved everything Hero loved.

"What are you singing?" Henchman asked.

Villain rubbed their hands together, "A song someone showed me. It's been stuck in my head since yesterday."

"I hate when that happens."

Usually, Villain would hate it, too. They should reply with an irritated agreement but they couldn't get their lips to stop. "It's a really good song."

~~~

Hero walked to their meeting place again. They didn't know what drew them in; they just felt like if they stayed long enough, something might happen. Even if Villain wasn't there and even if nothing tied them together, they could still feel the tugging at their heart as their steps echoed around the empty lot.

From the dark fog, a flicker of light caught their gaze. It vanished and reappeared again as Hero's footsteps moved closer.

"...The moon may be high." Hero paused, familiarizing themselves with the melody resonating from the hollow night. They could recognize Villain's voice anywhere. "But I can't see a thing in the sky."

From their hand, Villain's fingers snapped the lighter open and shut, a repetitive movement similar to the way their foot tapped when they were thinking too hard.

"I only have have eyes..." Villain's ears picked up the soft lyrics calling from behind them. They turned around as Hero's figure appeared out from the obscure night. Their lips followed along as they finished their words with Hero.

"For you."

Silence returned. Villain straightened themselves up and tucked the lighter away. "Hero." They spoke, nodding at them with acknowledgement.

"Villain."

"You've returned." They raised a brow.

"I always do." They mournfully spoke, but Villain could sense the aching of their heart, unable to withstand the separation for too long. "Even though I hate you sometimes, I cannot fathom living a lifetime without you."

They walked closer, and Hero's hand found their way into their own.

Villain felt their smile instinctively grow as they held onto them firmly in return. "I want to die loving you."

A small flash of red flickered between their fingers.

<< Start

< Part 3

•

~~~

MASTERLIST

TAG LIST: @books-are-everything, @kurai-hono-blog, @iykyunho, @marvellousdaisy, @m3rakii, @crow-with-a-typewriter, @sceirlose, @90scliche, @wondergoddess475, @miaowmelodie, @jeremy-no, @smallville1x10, @artsandstoriesandstuff, @whatwhump, @0eggdealer, @yuki-0710, @silky-worm, @theforeverdyingperson, @rainbow-nesquix, @m4iloblu3, @prophecies-bestowed-upon-ye,

Click here to be added to tags

[spade-riddles]

The funniest thing about the Toe push in People was the way they then backdated the split later on, so that Toe were in trouble as far back as November (or earlier) with Taylor performing at the 1975 concert, plus featuring on a Haim song about cheating, plus the lyric "splintered back in winter" on FOTS which everyone interprets to be about Toe. Then the way the break up got pushed back all the way from March to January, when she launched Tatty in May, to make it all look better 😂

People is one of those outlets like EW that everyone knows gets the scoop from publicists, so it's hard for fans to deny Taylor / Tree straight up lied to them about the state of the union, knowing full well Toe had "broken up" at the time. I wonder if any of this ever makes any of them question things. For me, it was the 2016 Met Gala and the Swiss cheese it made of the timelines that made me go, nope, I'm out, none of this can be real. Then when Taylor released a cover of the song she was dancing to with Karlie that night, and wore the VS ring in the Delicate vertical video, I decided the most simple and logical explanation was actually Karlie as muse, no matter what anyone thought.

It kind of amazes me other Swifties aren't there yet. Once you accept "lavender marriage and PR relationships" as the most likely explanation, everything falls into place. If you refuse to, you spend every new "relationship" trying to cram square pieces into a round hole, and desperately ignoring everything that doesn't fit, until Taylor calls it off out of nowhere and gives you whiplash with how fast the erasure is. And then she keeps on using the same signifiers you thought were special for that muse in her lyrics, confusing you even more! And then the beards don't give a fuck either. And then the whole narrative of what the relationship even was changes overnight, and you're just so confused . . . and then there's another Karlie connection, again. There's 8 and 3, again! And you still don't know it means!

I don't understand how they explain all this BS to themselves any more. It has to be exhausting. I'm so glad I don't have to live like that anymore. I'm free 💃

This made me chuckle as I was reading it. Well put! 💃

[drinkingteawithkate]

Okay I made a little post about this but it’s jawing at my brain

A deep dive into Ginny Weasley’s music taste

(Not specifically 90s timeline)

SPICE GIRLS

Okay so even though it might be cringy now she was definitely so obsessed with the spice girls. With their whole girl power agenda she definitely was really into it, and they have great party music. Hermione being one of her closest friends and muggle born showed her the spice girls over one summer and gave her tons of magazines on them. Tonks offered to take her to see them but Molly said absolutely not. Favorite song Wanna be obviously, it’s her designated getting ready song.

THE SMITHS/RADIOHEAD/NIRVANA/WEAZER

Okay so, Ginny dated Dean for almost a whole year being with someone you naturally gain interest in their interest. Dean being a muggle born introduced Ginny to all sorts of muggle bands The Smiths and Radiohead having a lot of sad songs I think she found very healing with all her trauma from the chamber. Nirvana is like the OG teenage dirt bag band so yes she loves them. Nirvana reminds her a lot of Sirius so she got Harry into listening to them. Weazer came from Seamus actually, when she was getting used to being around Deans friend group music came up and Seamus lent her one of his mixtapes. Her favorite song is Back to the old house because it makes her miss time before Tom and before the war.

DAVID BOWIE

So Bowie. I think Bowie would come from Bill and Arthur. Bill was born in the early 70s so it come from his childhood. We all know Arthur loves muggle things so I think music would be incorporated in that. Bowie has a perfect blend of sad and feel good music, we know she was close with Tonks but Remus helped her through second year too and Bowie was one thing they bonded over and what made Ginny trust Remus after Tom. Her favorite song is Changes because it feels like growing up.

EMINEM/D-12

Completely George and Charlie influence. She loved D-12 first obviously but she prefers Eminem. She knows every word. To every song. Harry loves when she gets wasted at parties and just stands on the table and belts out the lyrics. She’s totally a Doctor Dre fan too. The Slim shady album is her favorite it dropped in 1999 when she was freshly 17. Charlie took her to see him when she was 19 she went all out saggy jeans, heavy smudged eyeliner, bandana. When family dinners where to serious at the Burrow after the war. Her and George would start singing the dirtiest songs to get Molly’s attention on them. Favorite song in his discography is Under the Influence.

DO DOUBT/GWEN STEFANI, BIKINI KILL

Girl power rock bands I don’t have a ton to say about them. She loves No Doubt but proffers Gwen’s solo stuff. Obviously knows them from Tonks. She gave Ginny her Tragic Kingdom vinyl which released in 1995 perfect timing for her 4th year at hogwarts when she’s angry about being left out of order business. Her favorite Gwen song is Rich Girl.

ARVIL LAVIGNE

Okay so Arvil really started getting big in 2002 when her album Let Go came out. She wasn’t super big into her with that album but followed along still. Her teammates on the Harpy’s loved her and played her music in the locker rooms. She picked up again with her when Girlfriend came out but her favorite song is Here’s to never growing up.

(Later music)

TAYLOR SWIFT

I never liked that people think Ginny isn’t girlie because she grew up with 7 brothers. Yes, she is a total tomboy but she never saw being a girl as making her weak. It was just a challenge with her brothers but it just gave her more reasons to get to prove herself. If she had Taylor in her teens her favorite album would be Red or Evermore. Cowboy like me is a perfect song to describe her and Harry. “The skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up” perfect example of their relationships with Voldemort. They definitely avoided that they had that in common for a while but after they accepted it they where able to heal through each other. I think the song I hate it here from TTPD would be one Ginny could relate too because honestly when she was completely alone her therapy was Tom and the diary. It was where she would escape too. I think her hearing that song as an adult would have an even deeper meaning because it’s so sad and describes how lonley-ness feels beautifully.

- If you want my other opinions and more bands I think she would like feel free to ask I have so many others artist and songs

This kinda turned in to me relating Ginny to my favorite music but oh well 🤷‍♀️

[queens-of-spirits]

The Poolverine Playlist

So as I mentioned in the latest chapter of my fic, I have a Poolverine Playlist. I had some people say they were interested so here it is! Please let me know if you have additions or edits to these songs to share! It’s under read more because it is loooooong. I was going to add links but tumblr will not let me add that many.

Like a Prayer by Madonna (3 versions). You know why this is here, I know why this is here, no explanation needed, it is their song

The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and the News. It’s the song that plays while Wade is searching for his dream man a wolverine

You’re the One that I want - From Grease. The Honda Odyssey song!!! The thing that, combined with the come hither motions, the taunting, the belt grab, and literally ever other part of this scene, makes it clear that there was a little more than fighting going on in that car.

If I Could Turn Back Time by Cher. I know this one is more from the second movie, but the themes of time travelling to undo past mistakes (specifically of cruel worlds like those initially shared between them) really fits their story

The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer. My personal alternative soundtrack to the Honda Odyssey scene. They both were enjoying stabbing each other a biiiiit to much for this not to be fair game.

Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse. I can’t stop imagining this playing over a series of domestic vignettes post-movie where Logan realizes he’s in love. Also, there is hand-holding imagery, you’ll see a lot of that in this list.

Problems by Mother Mother. Particularly the first few verses. The whole finding love in a strange place while locked up in a cage is very them (“Not all of you was asleep,” anyone?) and that first bit about the singer believing that the subject is good enough for heaven but they aren’t? I can see the edits in my mind’s eye. The best part? It works no matter who you imagine as the singer.

Wrecking Ball by Mother Mother. This could be either of them, but I just can’t help by see Logan dealing with his anger and violence and idea that he ruined his worlds and then the two coming together to be fucked up and break shit together.

Curses by The Crane Wives. This is so Worst Wolverine. His world is destroyed and it’s his fault, but then Wade comes along and makes it all easier somehow.

Tongue’s & Teeth by The Crane Wives. Again, so Logan it HURTS. Feeling like a monster that hurts or destroys every good thing and will ruin Wade too, but willing to accept the fact that Wade seems to know this, but doesn’t care.

Predator by The Crane Wives (I really like their music lol). It’s on their latest albums and again. It really embodies the character of Logan to me. Tim’s hard to describe without just showing you guys the lyrics, so honestly go listen to it guys.

Sticks and Stones by The Pierces. This one is hard to describe, so please trust me and listen to it with Poolverine in mind

Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls. Okay, if I had to pick another song for the hand holding to Madonna scene, it’s this one. The vibes are immaculate, the theme talking about not being understood but finding someone who sees you are perfect, but that’s not why it’s here. It’s here because if two lines that are so much like Logan in that moment where he rushes in to save Wade. One: “you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be/And I don’t want to go home right now.” This one is Logan finding something in Wade he’d thought he’d lost and realizing, perhaps even in that moment, that he doesn’t want to go back to a fixed world. Two: the very first line “and I’d give up forever to touch you.” Logan believes that if he goes in that chamber he will die, but he breaks down the door anyway. He’s literally giving up his effectively immortal lifespan (forever) to touch Wade because he’d rather die with him that live in a universe where he doesn’t exist.

Too Sweet by Hozier. This one is so Logan falling in love with Wade post-movie. Logan having another chance at life and Wade trying to pull him out of his most self-destructive habits while Logan can’t think of anything but how Wade is too good, too sweet for him.

This is Love by Air Traffic Controller. I love these boys but they are a liiiiittle toxic. This is that (plus the knife and gun imagery)

The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley. Remember that scene where Wade bled into Logan’s mouth and he had that feral ass grin and laughed? Yeah.

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin. You say rough sex I say Poolverine.

Big Bang Theory Man by Clare Fader and The Vaudevillians. It’s another toxic romance vibes song. This one has guns lol

Somebody to Love by Queen. I think this really exemplifies their lives before they find each other. They’re both lost, both put down by life and the world. They don’t know it yet, but they’re just looking for somebody to love.

You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi. A little more toxicity for the boys. Logan singing this about Wade works well. Like with the idea that Logan played his part in Wade’s game and got sent to the void. Plus comparing Wade to a loaded gun? Yes. Just yes

You Make My Dreams (Come True) by Daryl Hall & John Oates. I like to believe that they both made each other’s dreams come true. Wade got to team up with Wolverine and Logan got a second chance.

The Other Side from the Greatest Showman soundtrack. Look I know Hugh is the one singing here, but I can’t help but draw comparisons from this song to Wade dragging Logan away from the bar where he’s content to waste away.

I Don’t Care if You’re Contagious by Pierce the Veil. My beta reader (crypticanid here on tumblr) recommended this one so it’s here.

The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. The chain is them holding hands to save the world :-)

Dancing in the Dark by Bruce Springsteen. Here for dad rock energy and because it fits pre-movie Logan.

Shackled And Drawn by Bruce Springsteen. See above (Springsteen is peak dad rock to me)

Angel Eyes & Basketball by Foot Ox. Look at these opening eyes and tell it isn’t Logan “There are flowers growing all around a massive animal inside of me/And it's so ugly/And I'm so broken/And I'm so ugly/And it's so broken”

Heaven’s Gate by Amélie Farren. This is so Worst Wolverine pre-movie. He’s lost and helpless and blames himself for ruining his world. Also, the bit about “I was told that I was vital in the plan to save my life” is giving Logan agreeing to help Wade so the TVA can fix his world. And not believing in Wade and always running away before finally deciding to stay and follow? So represented in this song. Also! “‘Cause I didn’t deserve heaven, but I’m standing at its gate”? That is so Logan when he sees the start of his life with Wade stretch out before him.

Creepy Old Guy from the Beetlejuice musical soundtrack. This is one of the silly ones, but I find the idea of Wade singing this about Logan, who remember is over 200, really funny. He’s Logan’s controversially young girlfriend.

November by Sparkbird. It’s a song about travelling grouch parallel universes and the vibes are very Poolverine. Plenty of knife imagery.

Loser, Baby from the Hazbin Hotel soundtrack. Look I know this one is a little off the wall, but c’mon, it’s a song where an animal themed alcoholic and a hyper sexual gun-lover who are heavily implied to have feelings for each other sing about how life sucks and they’re both losers, but at least they have each other. It’s one the nose (I would actually cry if someone did artwork of them dancing in front of that billboard like in the show)

[bloody-bee-tea]

As easy as this

Anyone who can name the song lyric I have in this fic gets a virtual cookie and at least three hearts from me

Hitoshi has a hard time concentrating this morning. He blames it on the lack of food— he knows from experience that he goes all spacey when he skips a meal but it’s not as if it’s in his own hands, these days.

His foster parents decide when he eats and they weren’t inclined to let him eat yesterday evening. Or this morning, for that matter.

Would have been kind of difficult anyway, seeing as he hadn’t been allowed inside of the house, he bitterly thinks and then tries to push that thought away.

Present Mic is already throwing him annoyed glances as it is, there’s no need to make him take special note of Hitoshi on top of everything else today so he needs to get a grip and make himself focus.

It’s just—it’s hard, is all. His stomach is long past grumbling and not even the approaching lunch can lift Hitoshi’s mood because he doesn’t have the money to buy himself something. He keeps a few essential things in a locker at the train station, but money is not one of them.

His foster parents don’t give him enough to squirrel anything away anyway and so instead of stressing over that Hitoshi is more concerned with keeping practical things in that locker. Mainly thick, warm clothes for the nights he has to spent outside and a first aid kit for when his foster parents go at it a little too hard.

Hitoshi jerks when the bell rings, signalling the end of the lesson for today and it takes him a second to get moving. None of his classmates stop to talk to him and while usually that only leaves a bitter feeling of tired acceptance in his chest today he’s thankful for it.

He’s not sure he is in any state to talk to them today. Some of his classmates don’t seem to care about his quirk but there are enough who are wary around him and they never let him forget it even when he’s talking to the ones who seemingly don’t care.

As if he could slip at any moment. As if he would control them over just for the fun of it.

Hitoshi learned to accept it a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay with it. It’s just not something he can change and he knows better than to spend any energy on trying on that. He needs his energy for other things after all.

Mainly not failing classes, these days.

“You okay?” One of his braver classmates asks as he stops at Hitoshi’s desk and Hitoshi waves him off.

“I’m fine,” he gives back and he knows he doesn’t look like it—he never does, these days—but that answer is always enough.

No one cares to ask beyond this, and as long as no one really listens to him, it can’t be a lie either, which slightly makes Hitoshi feel better.

If he says it often enough maybe he’ll even feel it one day.

His classmate nods and leaves, just like Hitoshi knew he would and that leaves him alone in the empty classroom.

It’s just as well, because nights out mean little to no sleep since nowhere is really safe and Hitoshi doesn’t have enough money to eat anything anyway, so he might as well catch up on all that sleep he’s been missing.

~*~*~

Hitoshi compulsively raises his hand to touch his face. He spent the entire weekend muzzled—again—and he needs to reassure himself that the thing is not on right now, that he’s free and able to speak should he chose to do so.

He doesn’t have a lot to say these days—nor any people who would listen to him—but it’s the matter of his choice being taken away that always fucks him up.

That and the fact that the muzzle is slightly too small by now. It’s not yet bad enough to cut into his skin and Hitoshi doubts his foster parents are going to let it get that bad seeing as that would only raise questions, but it’s uncomfortable to wear at best and his face still feels slightly irritated.

Everyone is chalking the slight welts on his face up to hormones though and Hitoshi guesses that’s for the best. He wouldn’t know how to explain anyway.

“Is everything okay?” Midnight asks when he raises his hand again to trace over the bridge of his nose and Hitoshi drops his hand immediately.

“I’m fine,” he gets out, taking a moment to remind himself that he’s able to speak, that he wants to speak even if what comes out of his mouth is not entirely the truth.

It doesn’t matter; Midnight has already focused back on her lesson and as long as she doesn’t listen, it’s not a lie.

It cannot be.

Hitoshi doesn’t know what he’s going to do if it is.

~*~*~

Hitoshi can barely breathe. His entire chest is littered with bruises and he thinks his foster father might have done it and cracked a rib or two, but it’s not as if Hitoshi can go to a doctor and get checked out.

There’s no way he could explain the injuries—and all the old scars—on his body and so he’ll just have to breathe through the pain until everything heals up.

Usually Hitoshi’s foster father is more careful—at least since he started attending U.A.—but Hitoshi had done the stupidest thing imaginable and asked a question right where he could hear and then—well.

Hitoshi knows better than that, normally, but his foster father still wanted to make sure that the lesson stuck this time.

It’s definitely doing something, Hitoshi bitterly thinks as his vision briefly goes black when he takes a breath that’s just a little too deep and he just manages to bite back a wince.

“Are you okay?” Snipe asks him and Hitoshi forces himself to keep his breathing smooth and even.

It doesn’t matter that tears prick at his eyes. It doesn’t matter that he can barely move without pain twisting so sharply that it almost makes him sick. It doesn’t matter that his hands can’t stop shaking.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

“I’m fine.”

Snipe’s attention slides away from him before he’s even done speaking and Hitoshi is glad for it.

It cannot be a lie if no one hears.

~_~_~

Hizashi feels restless and worried and he needs to find Shota this instant because he knows talking it over with him will settle his own mind. Shota is good like that.

Hizashi finds him in his preferred teacher’s lounge—preferred because it’s usually empty and has the most comfortable couch—just like he knew he would and it takes Shota all of one glance to close his laptop and fix his entire attention on Hizashi.

“What’s wrong?” he wants to know and Hizashi could kiss him just for that.

“Shinso Hitoshi,” Hizashi says, much to Shota’s apparent confusion. “I’m worried about him.”

“Is he in the support course?”

“Gen Ed,” Hizashi corrects him.

He sometimes forgets that Shota exclusively deals with Class 1-A unlike Hizashi himself who teaches English to all of the courses, so of course he wouldn’t know Shinso.

“What about him?” Shota asks and Hizashi wrings his hands in front of his chest.

“Something is wrong.”

It’s all he can say, because his thoughts are running a mile a minute and he can’t really pinpoint any obvious reason anyway. It’s all just a hunch. A feeling. Something nagging at the back of his head, telling him that the boy is not okay, that something is wrong, that he needs to do something.

“Okay,” Shota agrees calmly and this is exactly why Hizashi needed to talk to him so badly. Shota always keeps a level head, tries to be as rational as possible and it balances Hizashi’s own erratic, emotional thinking out quite nicely. “Talk me through it. What have you noticed?”

“He has eyebags worse than yours,” Hizashi starts with because it’s the most obvious one and Shota snorts out a quiet laugh.

“That could just be because he’s a teenage boy. What else?” he wants to know because clearly he trusts Hizashi to have more than just this one thing.

“He barely talks to his classmates, I have never seen him in the cafeteria, he doesn’t change with the others for the few training lessons they have, his hands shake more often than not, he doesn’t seem to have any personal belongings and he keeps touching his face as if he has to reassure himself of something.”

“Any obvious injuries?” Shota already has to know the answer, because if there were any obvious signs Hizashi wouldn’t feel the need to talk this over with him first but Hizashi answers anyway.

“No. Sometimes there are some rashes on his face but those could be from anything. Sometimes he holds himself as if he’s in pain, or as if he’s sore from something but other than that, no.”

“Mh,” Shota hums out and Hizashi wrings his hands in front of his chest again.

“Sho, I’m telling you, something is wrong.”

“And I believe you. You have an eye for that kind of thing,” Shota immediately reassures him and it settles something in Hizashi to know that his husband is not questioning his entire sanity. “What’s his quirk?”

“Brainwashing,” Hizashi mutters because he hates what that kid’s quirk has been named. Surely they could have phrased it in a way that didn’t make anyone who hears it flinch.

Shota clicks his tongue at that before he stills for a moment and just because of that Hizashi knows that he’s not going to like what Shota says next.

“Is it voice activated?” Shota carefully asks and just like that it all slides into place for Hizashi and for a moment it feels as if he can’t breathe.

He raises his hands to his own face, suddenly feeling the phantom imprint of a muzzle there and Shota is there a second later, tightly grasping his hand.

“Take a deep breath,” he instructs him and Hizashi follows his order without a second thought.

It becomes easier to breathe after a minute but he still stares wide-eyed and panicked at Shota.

“You think they are muzzling him?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Muzzling people with voice-based quirks has been outlawed years ago,” Hizashi weakly protests and Shota grimaces.

“You know it’s not always that easy,” he softly says and fuck, does Hizashi know, but to think that it’s happening to one of their students is unbearable.

“Has anyone else voiced their concerns?”

“No,” Hizashi gives back. “I talked to Snipe and Midnight and while they said that Shinso is not the most attentive student they don’t see any red flags.”

“Has anyone asked him directly?” Shota wants to know next and Hizashi shakes his head because he doesn’t think so.

Why would they if they all don’t see anything wrong with him?

“Okay, then we will,” Shota decides and squeezes Hizashi’s hand. “Do you know his living conditions? Family, siblings, that sort of stuff?”

“I don’t, but Nezu talks to all the parents, right? He would have noted it down if there were any kinds of flags.”

“Let’s check the records then.” Shota pulls him over to the touch, opening his laptop back up and logging in to the U.A. system.

It’s a matter of seconds to pull up Shinso’s file but to Hizashi it feels as if years pass and he can’t help but to impatiently bounce his leg. He knows they have to read this first, so they know what they walk into, what               questions to ask Shinso but Hizashi would really rather just go and speak to the kid directly.

Hizashi only turns his attention back to Shota when he feels him freeze next to him.

“What?” he demands to know, dread already curling in his gut and Shota lets out a harsh breath.

“He’s in foster care. His foster parents weren’t available for the talk with Nezu or any of the follow up appointments. He marked it as suspicious.”

“Fuck. Sho, fuck,” Hizashi reiterates again and Shota nods in agreement.

“Is your emergency foster license still up to date?”

“You know it is,” Hizashi huffs out because the school requires them to keep them updated at all times, precisely for cases like this. “But I can’t be the one to do it,” he tacks on, because he knows the system.

There’s no way in hell he’s going to get custody of Shinso, not even temporarily.

“What? Why not?”

“My quirk is voice based, too. They won’t allow this. You know how it is.” It pains Hizashi to say it but quirk discrimination is high these days and heteromorphs and people with voice-based quirks are bearing the brunt of it lately. Adding the fact that Shinso’s brainwashing will be seen as a villainous quirk by most people only makes it more unlikely to garner any sympathy and the fear that installs in people will only needlessly complicate things.

If Shinso is unsafe with his foster parents then his social worker is most likely aware and allows this, which means that if Hizashi petitions for emergency foster care of Shinso they will accuse him of collaborating with Shinso, wishing to train his quirk up.

Which would be true, but would put a serious hurdle right in front of them and they can’t afford that. And that’s only the best case scenario. Worst case, they’ll accuse Shinso of brainwashing him into wanting this and Hizashi can’t have that.

If their hunch is right and Shinso is being muzzled at home they have to get him out as quickly as possible.

“You have to do it,” Hizashi says and Shota seems about as unhappy as Hizashi feels but he nods reluctantly.

His quirk alone would be a point in their favour, in the eyes of any social worker who is as biased as Shinso’s has to be and he seems to realise that, too.

“Fine. It’s just a formality anyway,” Shota shrugs because in the end it is.

They are married. No matter who gets custody of Shinso, he’s going to stay with them both anyway.

“I’m guessing we’re doing this today?” Shota asks but it’s more of a rhetoric question, because of course they are doing this today.

There is no way Hizashi will let Shinso go home if his foster parents really are abusing him.

“He should be in Midnight’s class right now,” Hizashi says after a look at the clock and Shota nods.

“Alright. You go get him; he doesn’t know me and he’s bound to panic if I show up out of the blue. We’ll talk to him in one of the conference rooms, away from prying eyes.”

“Sounds good.”

It sounds absolutely horrible because Hizashi never wanted to have such a conversation with one of his students but it has to be done and at least like that they’ll have the privacy they need for such a talk.

It’s the least they can do with what they are about to ask Shinso.

~*~*~

Hitoshi feels sluggish with how cold he is. The night had been freezing and even the emergency clothes he keeps in the locker weren’t enough to keep him even moderately warm throughout the night.

He still can’t feel his fingers, though they are no longer a suspicious blue, and he’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

What he does know is that Present Mic calling out for him as soon as he steps outside the classroom is a very bad thing.

“Shinso, hey. Do you have a moment? I’d like to talk to you about something,” Present Mic tells him and he is clearly expecting Hitoshi to answer, no matter that there’s no way he can refuse one of his teachers.

Hitoshi is kind of glad that he’s already cold all over because the dread running through him would have leeched away all his body heat anyway.

“Sure,” he mutters, desperately clutching the strap of his bag and he follows Present Mic without another word.

He did not expect to be lead to one of the conference rooms, the ones that are sound-proof and can only be accessed by the teachers.

Fuck, this is worse than he thought, isn’t it?

Present Mic holds the door open for him and Hitoshi steps past him but he freezes when he sees Eraserhead already in the room.

Fuck, he’s going to throw up any second now, he desperately thinks because if two teachers want to speak to him—with one not even teaching him—then he really fucked up badly.

Hitoshi distantly knows that he should probably try to keep up appearances as best as he can, but he’s so busy not throwing up right then and there that it’s kind of inevitable that his hands shake.

They are going to call his foster parents because of whatever he did and that will be the end of Hitoshi. His foster parents made that more than clear.

“Shinso, hey, you need to breathe, kiddo,” Present Mic gently tells him as he steers him towards the unoccupied couch. “You’re not in trouble, I promise you that.”

It’s an empty promise; Hitoshi has enough experience with teachers saying that to him and then calling his foster parents once his back is turned so Present Mic’s words do exactly nothing to calm him down.

“What did I do?” he forces himself to ask once everyone is seated because if he gets this out of the way fast then he can do damage control. But he needs to know what he did wrong first.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Eraserhead tells him, and even though his voice is serious, it’s just as gentle as Present Mic’s was.

“Shinso, are you okay?” Present Mic asks him, fiddling with his fingers and this is easy.

This, Hitoshi knows how to do.

“I’m fine,” he says, and looks out for the way interest slides out of their eyes, waits for them to turn their gaze away from him.

It takes a second and then five and then ten and Hitoshi squirms, uneasy, because both teachers keep looking at him.

“I’m going out on a whim here, but I would guess that’s not true,” Eraserhead finally says and Hitoshi feels as if he can’t breathe.

If they are listening then it’s a lie, it’s all a lie what he’s saying and Hitoshi doesn’t know how to deal with that.

No one ever listens.

“Shinso, you can tell us the truth. You’re safe here and we won’t let any more harm come to you,” Present Mic tells him and it’s so ridiculous, so outlandish, so far from how any of this normally goes that Hitoshi doesn’t know what to do.

He focuses on breathing for now because that seems moderately important.

“If you are not okay, if you are being hurt, at home or here at school, you can tell us,” Eraserhead says and shares a glance with Present Mic. “We’ll make sure to protect you.”

It’s something Hitoshi should probably respond to, tell them that he’s fine, that there is nothing to worry about, that there’s no need for them to concern themselves with him and he’s just about to do that but when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a sob.

It’s as if a dam has been broken because after that first one follows a second and a third and Hitoshi can’t stop, he absolutely cannot get a grip on himself and soon enough he’s hyperventilating into his hands.

He doesn’t know for how long it goes on, can’t concentrate on anything but the tight feeling in his chest, the way he absolutely cannot breathe, can’t hear anything but an insistent ringing in his ears but eventually he becomes aware of someone talking to him, though he can’t make out the words.

Hitoshi tries to focus on the voice until he can hear actual words and he’s mortified to realise that it’s Present Mic, telling him when to breathe in and out and it almost sends him spiralling again but the firm grip he has on Hitoshi’s hands keeps him from losing it completely.

“I’m good, I’m fine,” he gasps out eventually and he thinks he hears Eraserhead snort out an unamused laugh.

“No offense kid, but you’ve been panicking for close to fifteen minutes now. I’d say you’re anything but okay.”

“How are you feeling? Right now? Nauseous? Faint? You’re pretty cold, are you about to drop on us?”

“I have been cold since this evening,” Hitoshi mutters, glad that his voice doesn’t crack on top of everything else and he doesn’t need to look up to know that Eraserhead and Present Mic are sharing a glance.

“Couldn’t you warm up at home?” Present Mic asks and Hitoshi instinctively curls in on himself.

The house isn’t his home and his foster parents never let him forget that.

“I don’t have a home,” he whispers, tugging his hands out of Present Mic’s and hiding them out of sight, as if that could hide the way he’s shaking. “There’s a house I’m sometimes allowed to sleep in and yesterday wasn’t one of those days,” he tacks on and distantly wonders where he finds the courage to say any of that out loud.

He has never talked about this with anyone.

But then again, no one has ever asked with the intention to listen, either.

Present Mic lets out a long breath and Eraserhead leans forward, his elbows on his knees, to give Hitoshi a serious look.

“Thank you for telling us,” he says and it feels almost stupid because no one should thank Hitoshi for dumping any of that on them.

“Before we talk about anything else I want you to know that both Shota and I have emergency foster licenses and that we’re not going to let you go back,” Present Mic tells him and Hitoshi guesses that ‘Shota’ must be Eraserhead.

“I—don’t understand,” Hitoshi admits after a long moment and almost feels bad about it when Present Mic wilts at his side.

“Shinso, I don’t know if you know this but not allowing a kid to come home is illegal,” Present Mic tells him. “That’s endangerment of a minor at best.”

“And this is just a hunch, but there’s a muzzle involved in the house as well, right?” Eraserhead carefully asks and Hitoshi can’t hide the way he flinches. Eraserhead only nods. “That’s illegal as well.”

“I know all of that,” Hitoshi gets out past the new wave of panic at having these two know what’s going on at the house.

“Then what don’t you understand?” Present Mic sounds honestly confused as he shares another look with Eraserhead.

“I just—I know it’s illegal and wrong but—no one ever cared about that before,” he blurts out and does not enjoy the way both their faces fall.

“Oh, Shinso,” Present Mic whispers out and his hands twitch as if he wants to pull Hitoshi into a hug.

Hitoshi almost wants him to do it.

“We care,” Eraserhead simply says as if it could be that easy and it only serves to make Hitoshi’s eyes water again.

“No one ever cares,” he says again because he doesn’t understand why these two would, what changed all of a sudden and this time Present Mic doesn’t hold back.

He leans right in for a hug and Hitoshi doesn’t have it in him to pull away and instead almost burrows into the warmth of the embrace.

“We care, kiddo, we do. And now that we know you’re not safe with your current foster family, we’ll put our emergency foster licenses to good use. Shota will get temporary custody of you on account of abuse and you’ll come home with us before we figure out the rest. How does that sound?”

“Confusing,” Hitoshi admits after a moment and pulls away. “What do you mean ‘home with us’? He’s the one I’ll have to stay with, right?”

“Oh, yeah, but we’re married, so you’ll come home with both of us.”

Married, Hitoshi whispers to himself and he must make quite the face because Present Mic huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, no one ever sees it, yada, yada, yada,” he waves off and Eraserhead rolls his eyes at him.

“Very mature,” he teases Present Mic and Hitoshi thinks he can see it, maybe. A bit.

But that really is not the pressing matter.

The most pressing matter is that this is all too good to be true and that thought scares Hitoshi. What if they change their minds? They must know what his quirk is, it’s all in his file, so he doesn’t understand how they don’t mind.

“Still doesn’t explain why you care,” he blurts out, rather rudely, and he freezes instantly when both men look at him.

“Shinso, you’re just a kid. A kid who deserves to have a stable, safe environment at the very least. You clearly don’t, and we care about that. About you. We want to give you that.”

“How did you even notice? No one ever notices,” Hitoshi finds himself saying even though a part of himself is urging him to stop questioning this. He should just take what he could get here, and every further question only raises the danger of it all slipping through his fingers again.

“Hizashi is good like that,” Eraserhead says with a small smile and Present Mic shrugs bashfully.

“But my quirk—”

“Should really not factor into any of this. I know that it most likely has, and I am sorry you have been treated so badly because of it, but it really doesn’t matter to us.”

“It’s a villain’s quirk,” Hitoshi mutters because it’s what he’s been told all his life.

“Strange,” Present Mic says and waits for Hitoshi to meet his gaze before he goes on. “I remember this being a hero school. And since you’re here that would make it a hero’s quirk.”

It’s said so easily, as if it’s nothing but a fact when all his life people have been laughing at him when he says he wants to be a hero and Hitoshi finds himself crying again.

“It’s alright, kiddo, we’ve got you. We’ll make sure you’re safe,” Present Mic promises him. “Shota is going to make that call now so you can come with us and we’ll go find Lunch Rush to get you a soup to warm up while he deals with all the boring bureaucracy, how does that sound?”

“Too good to be true,” Hitoshi admits because it does, before the rest of Present Mic’s words register. “I don’t have money,” he quietly says. “I can’t pay for the soup.”

“Good thing that you won’t have to, then,” Present Mic gives back before he briefly falls quiet. “Is that why you never eat in the cafeteria?” he then wants to know and Hitoshi didn’t know that someone had noticed and it’s not as if he can find his voice anyway so he simply nods.

He can hear Present Mic make an angry sound and he instinctively curls his shoulders in when Eraserhead speaks up.

“Hizashi, not now,” he warningly says and Present Mic falls silent again, taking a deep breath.

“You’re right, you’re absolutely right. Boring phone call for you, soup for us,” he then cheerfully says and shoos Eraserhead off, who rolls his eyes at Present Mic but does leave the room.

An almost awkward silence falls over the room and Hitoshi finds himself fiddling with his fingers.

“You don’t have to do this,” he feels the need to say and it’s almost comical how affronted Present Mic seems at that.

“Kiddo, you’re safe now. We’ve got you now, for as long as you want or need.”

“But—”

“Shinso, we want to. It wasn’t even a question for us. We want to help you.”

Present Mic seems entirely sincere as he says it and Hitoshi doesn’t have another choice but to believe him.

“Okay then.”

He knows that it probably won’t be as easy as this, because nothing in his life ever is, but maybe for today it can be.

And then maybe for tomorrow it can be again and that alone would be better than a lot of the past days in Hitoshi’s life. And if he really gets lucky for once in his life, maybe every day after that can be a good day, too.

He thinks that would be nice and when he gives a shaky smile to Present Mic who immediately smiles back with nothing but warmth on his face, it doesn’t seem so unattainable anymore.

[wikitpowers]

”memories” by conan gray. kit and ty. CHANGE MY MIND OH MY GOD

Please don't make it harder than it already is I'm trying to get over this

I wish that you would stay in my memories But you show up today, just to ruin things I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized But you're not letting me do that

Now I can't say goodbye if you stay here the whole night You see, it's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning Over and over again I promise that the ending always stays the same So there's no good reason in make believing that we could ever exist again

I can't be your friend, can't be your lover Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love With somebody other than me

Since you came I guess I'll let you stay For as long as it takes

NO STOP BC I JUST LISTENED AND IT IS SO FUCKING GOOD AND INSANELY KITTY CODED NOOOOO WHY WOULD U DO THIS TO ME :'(

u already typed out the lyrics so i won't go into too much detail analysing but i just wanna say:

the start really made me think of kit and how hard it is for him to get over ty, how every time somebody mentions him, it gets harder and harder to stop thinking about him. and the part where conan sings about showing up and ruining things is CRAZY bc we know that will link so hard to the cirenworth reunion scene and ahhhhBsahjsz. plus when trauma was mentioned.... let's just say kitty!coded...

"now i can't say goodbye if you stay here the whole night" is making me think of ty sleeping outside kit's room in tda and him definitely doing it again in twp when he wants to protect kit :( and the lyrics "there's no good reason in make believing that we could ever exist again" are so freaking heartbreaking (💔) like just stop stop stop make it stop god. it heavily links to them both being convinced they will never work.

and then the bit about not being anything to each other anymore, how they're like strangers now *breaks down* and then to top it all off, conan had to nerve to sing about falling in love with other people, which ty for sure thought kit did when he heard about his relationship with hazel, when he saw the photo of them two together (bc i hc that he did). and then the song finishing with lyrics about letting each other stay, accepting that they're still in love with each other and the fact that they aren't gonna stop being in love. god my heart broke :(