#memory that had been built up over more than 20 years but whatever!

[teecupangel]

As ‘Desmond can steal/touch his ancestor when he’s Bleeding’ idea more or less can be seen as gen, I figured this absolutely AltDes version (as I sorta hinted on in the alternate POV) should have its own post instead.

The AltDes version has definitely been started by the wonderful @thedragonqueen1998

Oh, i just imagine Altair waiting for the spirit to return to him after the whole thing with the apple went down, only to never feel him again. Maybe he'd use the apple to get answers? Could defo lead to altdes if you want comfort. ^^

My reply:

Yeessssss. Let's end this with Altaïr finding a way to keep Desmond in his timeline and maybe a big scene of Desmond holding onto Altaïr's red sash for one last time before he dies and Altaïr just grabbing his hand while the Apple glows and dragging him to his timeline

===========================

From @thedragonqueen1998

oh, im just imagining Desmond going up to the Eye and he sees Altaïr standing there, with his back turned and he holds onto the sash before he puts his hand on the device. He doesnt know if hes screaming as theres only the burning pain, the intense heat, the pure whiteness, the.. feel of fine silk in his left hand.

Altaïr has made sure to keep the Apple on him, so that if the spirit returns he could hopefully anchor it. Maybe he could finally ask some questions without it dissapearing? But its been months. Where as the spirit visited every few days, theres been nothing now. Maybe he should finally put it to rest? Hide away the Apple from anyone seeking to use i-

The spirit, its back. He makes sure to make very slow moves to pull out the Apple while the spirit holds his sash.

He cant mess this up, it might be months if not years until he can get another chance to anchor Desmond to him. With the Apple in his hands he tries to link the spirit to him. To communicate with it. Thats when the screaming starts. Altaïr freezes, these arent just screams of pain, its a death call. Is this how it died? He desperatly wants to turn, to comfort the dying creature, but he cant risk it. The Apple says its 47% done with "uploading memory".

What that means, Altaïr does not know, but the Apple has never failed in granting him his wishes, though understanding the information is another matter. He doesnt know if its been seconds, minutes or hours listening to the horrid screams, to smelling burnt flesh, before they stop and the Apple says "Memory Transfer Complete. Starting Body Transfer. Body Damaged By 20%, Repairs Can Be Done. Proceed?" Repairs? Does it mean saving the spirit? If so, "Proceed".

===========================

Addition from me

Malik did not understand this entire ‘spirit’ business that Altaïr has built in his mind. He had never felt anything strange whenever he was with Altaïr. If anything, the bureau in Jerusalem felt more haunted than Altaïr himself but, even if Malik has no real concrete explanation to the disappearing cups and small items in Jerusalem’s bureau, he also wouldn’t be able to stop it from being concluded as being ‘I forgot where I put it’.

Nonetheless, Altaïr stresses that the spirit is real and his obsession with this spirit of his that is named Desmond was simply another facet of Altaïr’s personality at this point. It was his deepest secret, only told in confidence to Malik because he needed a ‘sounding board’ to talk over his theories and plans.

Malik would have suggested he get a cat but he feared that making Altaïr a cat owner would either make a very spoiled and fat cat or a neglected wild cat that would get its treats elsewhere while its owner forget its existence.

So he tried to be this quiet sounding board, even ready to simply look over the reports given to him as part of his duties as Altaïr’s Keeper when he starts to hear all these… tales of a time far beyond them, machineries that Altaïr explains but left Malik reeling and feeling quite foolish for not understanding, of this… Animus.

Malik had thought Altaïr had gone mad. That whatever power had driven Al Mualim mad when he held the Apple had taken hold of Altaïr by tempting him with what he desired more than power itself.

Knowledge…

And a connection beyond what mortals usually have.

Malik had never thought of Altaïr as being a romantic but he was a man who liked to make dramatic entrances and exits. Cyprus would be a testament to that and, really, it was just as well that Altaïr did not do anything too stupid when he went to Cyprus. (Although a temporary alliance with a Templar woman had been risky and Malik was just glad said woman had told Altaïr that she was leaving Levant to travel elsewhere.)

Malik didn’t want to deal with that kind of headache. Malik had been ready to tell Altaïr that perhaps the Apple had been faking it but then Altaïr showed him these… ‘post its’ that Desmond supposedly left and…

The materials themselves were nothing Malik had seen before. The words he used in English were strange but his Arabic was fluent.

And looks eerily like Altaïr’s, both in the way it was written and the words used.

Perhaps that was what made Altaïr snap.

The insinuation that this Desmond didn’t exist. That Altaïr had made up this person, a person who, from Altaïr’s own description and the little papers Malik had seen, looked and sounded like the kind of person that Altaïr would fall in love with.

Kind but as lonely as him, understanding of Altaïr’s own faults and still believing in him…

Malik had feared that Altaïr would do something drastic.

He had plans already written up and was about to start preparations in secret to keep Masyaf and the Brotherhood running while he tries to get into the bottom of this entire Desmond thing.

Altaïr was slowly unraveling because Desmond hadn’t been contacting him. Just quietly visiting, Altaïr had called them.

It felt like this was the prelude to something big in Malik’s eyes.

Make Altaïr desperate for any communication, make him desire to ‘hear’ from Desmond once more… Altaïr was primed to do something stupid and Malik believed that the perpetrator had to be that damn Apple.

So Malik went to Altaïr’s private studies to finally confront him and, if need be, knock him out so he could drag him away from the Apple.

But, when he got there, he found Altaïr holding an unconscious man in his arms.

A man wearing clothes that Malik had never seen before… And a right arm charred and black with golden lines lightly glowing underneath the cracks…

“Malik…”

Malik realized…

“I did it. I anchored Desmond to me.”

… that perhaps that spirit that has been tempting Altaïr this entire time had been one of the olden ones that had created the Apple itself.

===========================

And more ideas from @zero-saito and @thedragonqueen1998

From @thedragonqueen1998

@teecupangel oooh, thats so hood! Malik would be so suspicious of Desmond, thinking hes tricking or manipulating Altaïr, but also cant help but like him. How he makes Maliks tea exactly how he likes it, how he pushes Altaïr into taking breaks and how he treats the novices. How could a being that made the accursed Apple be so pure and good? Did it take the darkness within it and store it into the artifact? Or something else? The being, Desmond, talks very little of it. For what reason does he share such wonderous "future" ideas, but will not tell of where to find more artifacts, of their uses and purpose? Malik can only hope it is for a good reason.

From @zero-saito

@thedragonqueen1998 @teecupangel I love all of this ‘spam’ 😍 this is great!! Yes to suspicious Malik but also Desmond is so sweet he can’t be mad for long. Also altair finally calming down and stop simping over a ghost! Wait! Malik finding out that desmond was haunting the bureau and either asking for the stuff back or an explanation. Desmond having puppy eyes that break Malik like Kadar used to

From @thedragonqueen1998

@zero-saito god yes, Desmonds puppy eyes are lethal! And he feels so guilty cause his hoard didnt travel with him. And he cant help stealing more to build another. He's like a dragon, gotta hoard everything!

From @zero-saito

@thedragonqueen1998 he has to steal things from altair and Malik the old fashioned way but he might still be able to steal from ezio and Connor the usual way. He will miss his family mementos after all

From @thedragonqueen1998

@zero-saito oh, didnt think about him keeping his Bleeds. :O i cant really think of anything else to add though XD im out of ideas here.

===========================

I got you, guys XD

Desmond wasn’t sure how Altaïr had done it and Altaïr himself was still studying it but his reasoning for studying it was more on the side of making sure Desmond stayed anchored to him. Desmond was sure that there was no way for him to return to his time, not when Altaïr had taken him just as he was about to die, his last memory the sound of his own voice telling him in a robotic sounding tone that the Solar Flare has passed and that it was dispersing the remaining 10% of the shield.

Desmond didn’t know if dispersing the shield was even a good thing but he had fate in the Assassins (his friends) that they would figure something out if it didn’t.

Oh, and about Juno too.

But Desmond was going to ask Altaïr’s help on that front too once he was satisfied that Desmond wouldn’t be thrown out of his time at all.

Honestly…

Desmond was sure that only Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton would be able to do that anyway since it was highly possible the ones he could connect with were the only ones who could use the Apple that way.

Between the two, Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn’t even know it was an option because he would throw the Apple into the sea as soon as he received it, knowing the danger that it possessed.

Ezio wouldn’t even think about asking the Apple such things. He had always been wary of the Apple’s power and it took Machiavelli pushing him for weeks for him to even ask the Apple where Cesare was. So… yeah, Ezio was highly unlikely.

And…

Even if they do…

Desmond was sure he and Altaïr would end up trying to contact one another to find a way to bring Desmond back.

It would be nice to see Ezio or Ratonhnhaké:ton. To be able to talk to them and to tell them everything but…

Desmond wanted to stay in this time.

He wanted to stay with Altaïr.

So the moment he saw their backs as another Bleeding Episode hit him, he gave them a letter that explained his situation.

Desmond couldn’t believe he didn’t think of it before.

Not like there were any papers lying around that Desmond could use in any of the hideouts he’d been. They mostly kept everything in their laptops, computers and other gadgets. Any paper lying around would be important that Desmond couldn’t take or part of Shaun’s corkboard which he also couldn’t take unless he wanted Shaun to start slapping his hand like a mother batting her child’s hand before the child could take a cookie.

Here in Masyaf though…

Malik was okay giving him as many pieces of paper as he wished.

He knew Malik was still wary of him and Desmond wasn’t surprised.

Hell.

He’d be more surprised if Malik wasn’t wary of him at all.

Still, Desmond was pretty sure that he was slowly whittling Malik’s suspicion of him since he had been more than forthcoming about everything.

Also…

Malik did see the small treasure hoard that Altaïr’s (and Desmond’s) room had in the corner, filled with a lot of strange items that Desmond was more than happy to explain to Malik.

He would forever miss his hoard back in the 21st century but it was fine. He knew the others wouldn’t mind helping Desmond have a new one.

He… was still not sure if he should laugh or be offended that Malik had thought he was an Isu.

But that was fine.

Masyaf…

This place…

This time…

It was peaceful.

And he knew the pitfalls that would come.

Desmond was confident that Altaïr and Malik would listen to him once he explained it all.

But for now…

He just wants to relax for a bit.

And let himself be consumed by the peace and happiness he felt.

[orange-ghost]

I think I'm the only New Yorker who doesn't hate the subway.

Don't get me wrong-- the people on here can be nuts. The delays suck. And it can be dangerous. But at the same time, they're a great spot for people-watching? And I think growing up on them taught me a lot.

When I was 13, I noticed that a lot of my peers didn't like who they saw in the mirror. They'd always talk about how social media made them feel ugly, or bad about this, that or the third. I never understood. The way I saw it, people just... looked how they looked. Pictures didn't mean we all had to be that way, too. Not to me, at least.

I was also attending a visual arts high school at the time, and I noticed a lot of students' artwork on the walls. Some of them I really liked. Others, I didn't really lock them into my memory.

So I made up a game for my one-hour commute: every day, I have to look at everybody I see around me, and just notice something them that I thought looked nice or unique. No judgments, no oogling or negative comments, that's against the rules. Just... notice. And I always found something. Didn't even have to force it; it was easy.

Pretty black hair. Hooked noses. Smile-lines. Nicely-trimmed beards. A cane with stickers on them. Intimidating leather jackets. Glasses I wanted. Stretch marks. Deep brown eyes. Cool dreads.

It made me actually notice how diverse we all were. Like, damn, we really are built different, huh.

While I was doing this, I'd also take brief notes on what they were doing. Most just sat around thinking about whatever, but sometimes I saw friend groups talking. Married couples with kids. Solo riders holding poles with an engagement-ringed hand.

Strangers who I found especially beautiful often rode the rails alone? Like this 20-30-something guy with a short black ponytail & a leather jacket that I never saw again. Or this chubby light-skinned girl who was about my age-- had long, unkempt curls, glasses, and a bunch of Studio Ghibli pins on her bag. (I saw her all the time and always thought she was really cute, but never chatted her up because I'm a coward.)

And the strangers who didn't stick out to me, they often had people who loved them. Some were married, or at least engaged, or there with a girlfriend. Some had biiiig groups of friends who I could tell in that moment probably knew & cared about them deeply. And a bunch of them were alone here, but easily could've had somebody waiting for them at home, yk? Or friends & family they were on their way to see.

And why wouldn't they? Beauty is skin-deep and subjective, in the eye of the beholder. And to see that, all I had to do was just... look around. These people probably weren't models. Or social media influencers. And other people still liked 'em.

We're not supposed to be the same. That's part of the fun of living. And we're not supposed to all fit in some weird standard box. Especially one that can't even make up its mind. I remember as a toddler & a small kid, the TV would drone on and on about needing to be thin.. But now that it was 2017, I was seeing and hearing people drool over BBWs or whatever the word was. And I figured there were more important things in life than trying to fit a swaying box that's just gonna drop you in ten years, anyway.

All subjective. Kinda like the artwork that I would see on the walls.

Some of it fascinated me. Some of it didn't. And I wasn't the only one-- my other friends found themselves captivated by different pieces, ones that I didn't think much about. They probably saw things that I didn't. And none of us had a say over how much they're worth, or how much they meant to somebody.

I'm really glad I made up that game back in the day. I think it helped it helped me maintain a good body image, and deconstruct some biases I'd been taught. It also showed me that it's really easy to just... not judge people. Closemindedness is a choice. And it's a pretty easy one to persist past & overcome.

Man. I miss those train people now. I hope that they're all doing well. Wherever they may have gone.

[ketsubankoya]

I don't know what to do with myself.

Once upon a time, I was a medium-grade fanfic writer. I wrote fanfiction for Sailor Moon, which was already past its golden age but still had a good amount of life in it. I belonged to a few online communities and built a solid following, along with a number of long-lasting friendships with great people.

In the mid-2000s, I faded out of online fandom for two reasons. I burned out on writing after forcing my way to the end of a fanfic that had ended up being way longer than I'd ever intended, and I got involved in offline fandom. Primarily staffing conventions and events. Again, I poured everything I had into a community that meant the world to me.

It was the best and worst thing I've ever done. I grew into a stronger, more capable person, and helped bring cherished experiences and memories to thousands of my fellow nerds. I met amazing people, several of whom were instrumental in keeping me alive when my brain spent a few years trying to kill me. And yet, all human constructs are dumpster fires. Problematic people are everywhere. Whatever beautiful thing you're involved in, eventually it will go wrong. Things will get ugly, and whatever you loved will become unrecognizable. And I burned out again, and had to step back from that world.

So now, here I am. Trying to figure out what kind of life I'm going to have next. I've been indulging in several hobbies I haven't had time for over the past 20 years. But I feel adrift. I've always had trouble dedicating myself to any hobby enough to get good at it, but it's been a long time since I felt real fire for anything that lasted longer than a flash.

I've been struggling with this for several months at this point. I've been painting, I've been writing, I've been streaming, I've been redecorating, but I haven't gotten particularly far with any of them. Today, I'm realizing that as much of an introvert homebody as I am, I need community. I need connection with others doing the same things, and feedback from people who consume what I produce. Creating for others is instrumental to my motivation for doing anything.

It's frustrating, and sad. We should do things for ourselves, and for the pleasure of doing them, not for an audience, right? I don't know if I've ever in my life made anything with no intent to show it to anyone. I need the value found in sharing my efforts with others. So now I'm here on Tumblr, after carrying around an unused journal since last August. And after trying several other social media platforms in an effort to connect with people. I can't be productive in a vacuum.

What now? I've been strongly attracted to the thought of being a content creator lately. What kind of content, I don't know (see aforementioned list of hobbies). But there's another problem, when it comes to that. I'm not a creator. I'm not really a writer, or an artist, or any of those things. Everything I've ever made is either derivative or garbage. Every. Single. Thing. I make things, but I don't actually create anything.

There's an odd agony in wanting so badly to create something, but not actually being a creator. I keep waiting for the perfect hobby to pop up, but I don't have what it takes to seize that opportunity even if it were to arise. So I'm sad, and empty, and idle.

I don't know what to do with myself.

[hazeldragonblossoms]

okay. memory dump. i’m gonna try to stick with the drakes for this one, but there’s gonna be some pre-game and stuff about me too, just for context.

by the time i started attending ravenwood, sylvia and malistaire had been married for years. they were well established and well loved. since there were three drake professors, we addressed them formally as their first initial, and more informally by first name. sylvia encouraged us to be informal with her, and it affected how people referred to malistaire and cyrus, too.

like i said, sylvia was my primary teacher. she was like a homeroom teacher, i guess — a class of life students of about new ten or so new kids each year, usually ranging from the ages of ten to their mid-late 20s, though sometimes exceptions were made for younger kids with nowhere else to go who got sponsored by the school, and there were a few outliers who got into magic later in life, too. primary schools were like family units, similar to the cabins in pjo, and sylvia was the theurgy kids’ mom.

i will note; the younger kids tended to spend a lot of time on/near campus, while the older students often went on adventures, bought castles, and eventually found jobs. although, the cutoff for “older students” varied significantly — it wasn’t uncommon to see ten year old novices getting patched up on the way back from firecat alley, but there were some students who never used offensive magic, and instead dedicated themselves to things like potionmaking, card crafting, and more practical applications. there was plenty of philosophy to be discussed in class at higher levels, and the professors were sneaking it into their curriculums from day one.

i wasn’t actually the “young wizard” of arc 1. that was morganthe. she was a lot older than me — i think by about ten years — and we never really talked before she was sent to find and stop malistaire. or after. but that’s a post for another day.

i did a lot of smaller tasks to support morganthe’s mission as she tracked malistaire down. i think i did a lot of the various street quests in wizard city — mostly the versions from before the world was reworked in the official release of the game. unicorn way, triton avenue, crab alley, firecat alley, and cyclops lane i know i went to, and i’m pretty damn sure i went to colossus boulevard, too.

i also went to grizzleheim! and i Did meet nick jonas. he was cool! we didn’t hang out often, but i always made sure to stop by to listen to whatever he was working on when i was passing through.

after arc 1 was over and done with, a memorial was built for sylvia and malistaire. i forget where, exactly — up by the tower from the tutorial…? regardless, it was nice. there was a bench with a sculpture of the two of them, a few tables with chairs, and a carefully-tended climbing vine behind the statue that had pink flowers. it was visited by students as a quiet study spot at first, then grew into a place to hang out, with a little garden to represent sylvia. i think people got more comfortable there as time passed — able to remember the good along with the bad — but at first, the only people who went there were a handful of theurgists and necromancers (including me), staff members (cyrus in particular), and morganthe.

some people never came around to it, saying malistaire didn’t deserve to be remembered. me and my friends didn’t let that shit fly.

ANYWAY, all that actually started out as a tangent! but sylvia always said that tangents were a sign of an active mind looking to make connections; nothing to be ashamed of. i’ve since reformatted the post, but i think this serves as a better intro for her.

man, now to describe sylvia drake? she was kind, and funny, and never afraid to get her hands dirty or to tell us to get weird. she was actually a lot like ms. frizzle, in some ways.

of course, she was a lot like demeter. very motherly, very gardeny.

but she also had a slightly unhinged side. she told us she’d ridden centaurs into battle, and her centaur buddies always backed her up, entirely seriously.

the vines and branches she could create could be an incredibly destructive force of nature, growing so fast around an enemy that she’d squeeze the life from them faster than a python, and much more brutally. she only demonstrated on inanimate objects (or, sometimes animated objects that just don’t feel pain, like if she needed to grab a wayward broom or an escaped accidentally-enchanted chair, which are both real examples), but still, it’s hard not to see a barrel get shattered and imagine what would’ve happened if that were your ribcage. because i’d bet my selena gomez statue and rockin’ outfit that the answer would’ve been Many Broken Ribs!

i think, thematically, it makes the most sense to talk about malistaire next.

“malistaire” was actually a portmanteau of the old avalonian names michael and alistair, and the meaning was something along the lines of a “defender/avenger” type of thing?

whatever. malistaire drake was, although very powerful, also very much a dork. i have immense respect for the man, but he was a damn sap. if professor sylvia drake was a theurgy student’s mom, professor malistaire drake was their well-meaning, if a bit distant stepfather who married their mother after they’d moved out.

luckily, i thought necromancy was cool as hell and made it my secondary school, so i collected both halves of the set as pseudo parents.

he did lose his arm at one point, similar to the outline provided in this post. i wasn’t involved in the initial incident, but it was really rough on him. i think i was about fourteen? i was in a ‘pigtails and braces” era 😭 BUT regardless, since i was close with both him and sylvia, he’d let me help out once in a while.

sometimes “helping” consisted of grading the littler kids’ homework (in exchange for extra credit, because death may not always be fair but malistaire drake is!) with malorn. malistaire would generally read over essays while malorn and i chatted and went over the basics of necromancy, deciphering the kids’ handwriting…

other times, he and sylvia would teach me interweave necromancy with theurgistic healing spells, which sylvia would boost, in order to help malistaire out with the residual pain and perceived muscle atrophy. i guess his symptoms were similar to extensive/prolonged nerve damage/paralysis? but after that, i pretty much aced all my practical theurgy classes until sylvia died without lifting a finger.

cw: miscarriage — i mentioned earlier that the head magic school professors were like parents to their respective classes. and that’s true, to an extent. they filled the parental role for a lot of us students, since we lived at the school, especially for little kids. but then we’d go out into the world, sometimes in a matter of months. malistaire and sylvia wanted something a little closer to home. they tried really hard to have a baby. several times, i might add. there were a couple of times where it seemed like they might finally have a baby on the way, but Sylvia never even got to the halfway point.

cw: terminal illness — apparently, in all those attempts, a necromantic infection started to take root, similar to cancer. the strength of the leyline of death magic imbued in the essence of malistaire’s very being had poisoned sylvia like radiation. that was what had been killing their children, and now it would take her, too.

he searched desperately for a cure. everyone did, from traders who frequented the bazaar in olde town to first year novice diviners to little old ladies who never left their houses if they could help it. but there was just… nothing, aside from pain management. sylvia drake was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do. it came down on her suddenly, and the only mercy was that she thankfully didn’t suffer for very long. one day she was able to hold my hand, tell me that my healing abilities were a great comfort… the next, she was dead.

i think i was… eighteen? or nineteen? when the death school was destroyed. it was only a week or two after sylvia’s death, but malistaire wasn’t the same in the interim. he didn’t sleep or eat properly, spending every waking hour he wasn’t teaching pouring over every necromancy text he could get his hands on. his resurrection of sylvia had to be perfect. and when he was “teaching,” he was flightly and nervous and distracted. malorn and i started grading papers again, this time without Malistaire’s help, and malorn was already tutoring a few of the younger kids — how hard could it be to fill in the little gaps malistaire was leaving in his grief? (ohhh, malorn. thankfully, i’m not his life school equivalent because ambrose had already arranged for sylvia’s replacement, professor wu, to settle in and start teaching theurgy classes back when sylvia first got sick. wu was fully instated and ready to take over once the classes started back up about a week later, and us theurgy kids got a lot of counseling from sylvia’s diagnosis onward. the necromancy kids weren’t so lucky, as their/our former mentor was also a wanted man.)

malistaire was presumed dead when the death school went down, and dworgyn was considered missing, and we worried regardless of the fact that he turned out to be fine. we had no way of knowing.

there were rumors, sure — regarding both malistaire and dworgyn, (but. mostly malistaire) — but classes were canceled, an impromptu candlelight vigil had set up around the crater, there was a memorial service being planned…

…and then ambrose had reason to believe that the old death professor was still alive after all, and called upon one of ravenwood’s top students, morganthe.

lastly, cyrus. i actually spent a lot of time with him during “arc 1” of the game’s canon, after what had happened with sylvia and malistaire.

going back to an early malistaire fact for a moment; cyrus’s name means “humiliator of the enemy,” so they both have warrior names. makes sense for twins sent to dragonspyre academy.

i didn’t really talk to cyrus much while i was growing up? he was like an uncle i didn’t put much effort into getting to know. and like, you know how it is. i was a busy student with my own life and friends, and he was a professor with plenty of other students to look after. hell, i wasn’t even all that great at conjury…

that being said, cyrus was a good dude. when he was able to get into it, his genuine passion for conjurative magic was a breath of fresh air.

but he was also strict, and harsh, and prickly. i was lucky to have known him before his sister in law died and his brother lost his shit, and also to know him as an adult myself with more empathy and emotional maturity to understand why he lashed out.

after malistaire’s death, i helped cyrus with malistaire’s body. he was… curt. clearly grieving. and i was, too. but his was more… angry. i just wanted my mentor to be at peace.

we consulted various necromantic texts, along with those on conjuration and sorcery, and eventually laid malistaire to rest with a bunch of protective talismans so that no one could raise him again as he had done to sylvia.

[null40410]

The Last One

He fumbles with the camera for a second, showing a glimpse of the space age-esque small habitable indoor room he's in, with almost complete darkness outside, save for a couple of small bright dots in the distance. He then shows his face and sets the camera down.

"Hellooooo...! My name is... pssh, um... Grun'gthar, Achilles, Aizine-4620ac-9, Eon, ...Robert? I dunno. I've had alot of names in my time. I'm about... 30...? ish? trillion years old, aaand I'm one of the first humans to ever exist. And now, the last living thing in the universe."

He smiles for a moment.

"Uh, I'm here with..." he turns the camera to the side and points out the side window, showing the last few stars left "...the last four- oh, there goes another one." One of the stars explodes into a supernova, but then quickly disappears into nothingness. "Heh, the last three stars in existence..." He turns the camera back over to himself and looks at his watch. "And about... 20 minutes away from the end of the universe."

He stares off-camera for a few seconds before continuing.

"Um, I originally was what was colloquially known as a caveman, but then for some reason when I was about 28 or something, I just suddenly stopped aging or getting hurt or, anything like that. Still don't know why, but I stopped being confused about it after a while.

I do have a theory as to why I am the way I am, though. The second-generation Venians really helped me in trying to understand. For some reason, at that specific moment in time when everything started, I sort of ‘stopped’ being recognized by the universe, if that makes any sense, and so natural laws just kinda stopped applying to me. Like I was frozen in time or something.

After a few years, I noticed that everyone around me was starting to look all wrinkly. Heh, I soon came to realize that that was called 'aging'. Funny thing. Anyway, after everyone around me kept dying, I kept moving to other tribes... adopting their culture, languages, what have you. I guess after a few thousand years, I started to feel more like a chameleon than a human. I've helped build and lived in empires that rose and fell, seen the Egyptian pyramids being made, and watched as the Great Wall stretched across China. I saw the Renaissance, the Industrial Revolution, the dawn of the digital age... I even saw humans take their first steps on Mars. Fun fact though– aliens? Yeah, they’ve been around for a long time, visiting Earth since even when I was a kid. They didn't live very long, and we tried to preserve our memory of them, but eventually everyone who wasn't me died, and our attempts at passing down our stories didn't exactly pan out. It was even worse when the–... well… never mind.

During the 20th to 22nd centuries, people started to realize that I don't age, and big governments, corporations, practically everyone was trying to get their hands on me. I still don't understand why they were so aggressive and insisted on using force… of course it failed, because, you know, invincible, immortal, whatever.

I wasn't a fan of the publicity, so I decided to take a break from civilization for a little while. Fast forward a few thousand years, and suddenly, space travel is the norm. I was impressed, but not surprised. I was able to reintegrate back into society without much trouble. Bah! I'm going on a tangent again. I tend to do that, sorry.

But, uh... being immortal isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure, it's cool to see the universe evolve, but it's also... lonely. Everyone you know, everyone you love... they all eventually die. I've had countless families, countless friends... and countless heartbreaks. Eventually, you just... stop getting close to people. It's easier that way. It especially helps when you’re the last one standing on a planet where you’ve seen everything that was ever built slowly erode and crumble into dust, being flooded, submerged in lava, frozen over a hundred times, all that apocalyptic jazz."

He pauses, looking wistfully out at the stars.

"So, why am I doing this? I guess... for posterity? For whatever comes next? Closure? Maybe in the next universe, someone will find this recording and know that I was here. That I existed. Maybe it'll serve as a warning, or a lesson, or... just a story."

He smiles softly, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"I guess, in a way, this is my legacy. Not the wars I fought in, or the people I saved or killed, or the civilizations I helped build or destroyed. But this. Me, sitting here. At the end of everything, just... talking."

He glances at his watch again.

"Well, time's almost up. Just a few more minutes now. Whatever happens next... I'm ready. If there's a new universe, maybe I'll get to see it. If not... then it's been a hell of a ride."

He looks directly into the camera.

"So, to whoever finds this... hello. And goodbye."

He chuckles softly, the sound bittersweet.

"And, uh... note to self: probably shouldn't have brought the camera. Doubt there'll be video after the next Big Bang. If there even is one."

He sits back, the camera capturing the last moments of the universe as the final star begins to explode. There’s a loud bang and the screen fades to nothingness and the recording ends.

[pseudodeepwords]

may 30, 2023

I recently lost my house. Well, 'recently' being less than a month ago, which doesn't seem very long at all to me. Everything went up in flames in a terribly literal way, and the firefighters couldn't get out to my (rural, isolated, middle-of-nowhere) home in time for anything to be saved. I left there with myself, my father, the clothes on our backs, and whatever was left in my car. It could have been worse, in a lot of ways, and it's really no use dwelling on what used to be, but it's still a difficult pill for me to swallow.

I have an uncle who has a considerable amount of income. He lives full-time about an hour and a half south of the place I called home for nearly two decades, but in 2016 he had the opportunity to have a second house built as a sort of weekend getaway for himself, his wife, and their three children. It sits away from the other houses in the private lakeside community it inhabits, behind a gate marked "members and guests only." It's only a couple of small towns over from home, and he was kind enough to allow me to stay in the lake house until I could get back on my feet.

I do not like it at the lake house.

It's nice, don't get me wrong! But the big windows out front have no blinds or curtains and at least a couple times a day a golf cart will roll past, which makes me a little anxious about not being fully clothed despite being completely alone, and the people here look at me as though they can smell the poverty drifting off of me, like I carry the rancid scent of misfortune. That part kind of gets to me; I've been a pretty ideal neighbor, all things considered. I turn my often loud and obnoxious music completely off as I pass through, I pull over to allow the golf carts to go ahead, I never turn my high-beams on, and I've never invited anyone else out to the house, though I could certainly give them the gate code and tell them to come right on through. However, this setup is temporary; I am not a member, and despite being the guest of a member, I'm really not supposed to be here at all.

This weekend has made it quite clear that I need to get out pronto. I was obviously already planning on doing that, given how much I dislike it here, but it is now Memorial Day and I have been trapped here with this family of five for the third day now. I love my family, don't get me wrong, but thank GOD they're leaving tomorrow while I'm at work. My uncle and aunt have a passive aggressive streak with each other that rears its head at the oddest possible times; their twin 15-year-old girls are both unhappy with them, though one seems more volatile than the other and doesn't seem to want anything to do with being here at all; and their son, a 20-year-old with cerebral palsy who requires a very high level of care and attention, is stuck in the middle without any real sense of the way that his entire family seems to dislike each other at the moment. I am a passive observer to this phenomenon - I opt to say nothing, comment on nothing, and mostly speak when spoken to, It is wildly uncomfortable. I'd be having more fun putting pins through my eyes.

There also isn't much to do out here. By design, this house is a getaway from their hectic suburban life - a place to fish or hunt, to observe wildlife, to spend time offline and with each other. That's fine and well, really, but I'm here for a few weeks at a time with no internet access and few ways to unwind. I've considered digging into the very well-stocked selection of alcohol in the pantry despite the fact that I abhor the taste of liquor, just to feel a little less high-strung. (There is also a part of me, and not a small part, that fears retribution if anyone notices the liquor bottles are less full than they were last time.)

The last few weeks have felt like a waking nightmare. Maybe some good-old-fashioned journaling will help with that. My hopes are not particualrly high, but who knows? Maybe this time I'll stick with it. That's what this is. This is a journal entry. Cool shit, right?

Also weighing on my mind is my uncle's ultimatum. See, the house is gone, but the five acre plot on which it sat is still ours. It's actually mine, if you go by the name on the legal documents from the tax assessor-collector. My sister and I want to sell it, but there's quite a hefty amount of back taxes due on the place. My uncle has offered to pay them as long as he's reimbursed when the property sells, which is fine and well, but he wants a written agreement naming him co-owner until that time comes, which is somewhat worrisome. He says that if I don't agree, then he's out entirely. Bit stressful. I think I'm going to accept, but my sister is very against it and will not be happy if indeed that is the route I go. I'm worried, though. About everything.

Right now, the only thing really keeping me from exploding entirely is the fact that I'm going to see my partner soon, Long distance is a bitch! I haven't seen them since October and I'm going a little crazy about it. That said, our first anniversary is June 8th, and I will be in their arms for that day. It's the little things.

That's all I think I'll write about for now. If I change my mind, then. Y'know. Who will know except for me anyways?

[totouchthcstars]

Look who just woke up- is that PARK JINYOUNG? No, I must have been mistaken, that’s WALL-E from DISNEY. I heard he is 24 and stuck here just like everyone else. Even in the 20’s, they still give off a WONDERING IF THERE IS MORE IN LIFE THAN HIS DIRECTIVE; WANTING TO MAKE FRIENDS AND TO HAVE SOMEONE TO KEEP HIM COMPANY; SORT OF BEING A HOARDER AND KEEPING ANYTHING INTERESTING HE FINDS impression. They’re known to be quite CARING, but have a tendency to be NERVOUS on their bad days.

Gender/Pronouns : he/him

How long have they been in Sydney : A character may have been in Sydney for up to seven years. However, in their fak as far as Walle knows, he has been born in Sydney. I reality, he is there for 6 months, at this point

Which suburb do they live in? Tba

Personality description : Walle is friendly and very curious, but also lonely, seeing it had been nothing but him on Earth for such a long time. He can be sort of... persistent, as in, clinging to whatever or whomever he can find to fill this loneliness. While he is also obient and dutyfull, it is actually easy to distract him from the task he has to fullfill.

What was their fake life like : 

Walle's fake life was indeed very different from his real one - and not only because he was human. He grew up in a family of seven, with his parents, a grandma and an uncle as well well three siblings and him being the middle child.

Being a middle child, was…. well, some would maybe say it was bland. Boring. But, Walle never really had much to complain about. He knew it was not easy for his parents, being people of colour in the 1920's and all, so, yes, Walle was content with how it was, helping his mother in the kitchen or outside on their small farm.

Walle's parents had decided living there was easier for them all, without the stares of neighbours, and all. They even went so far to homeschool their children at a certain point. It was maybe not the right decision to live in this bubble, though, which grew obvious when WWI rolled around.

Walle's older brother got enlisted in the army and went to war. he came back as a changed person, though, and Walle had troubles getting close to him again after.

So, Walle himself simply took over the farm, since his brother had not been willing to. Different from the older man, he had no problems continuing the way of life their parents had choosen for them all.

He also built a greenhouse there and is selling the flowers on the local farmer's market. For some reason, even without his real memories, Walle had a special connection to flowers and plants for all of his life.

Theme song: David Bowie – Space Oddity

label: the lost soul : someone who isn’t sure what they’re doing with their life ; a bit lost, a bit insecure ; always pondering, always doubting themselves and the choices they make.

[shattered-ass]

okay. hear me out. it sounds insane because it is. you gotta trust me.

obvs spoilers for a 20+ year old show

so basic set up of beast machines (because imo no one should ever watch it unless out of desperation for more bw content) is that after landing back on cybertron, the maximals realize that theyve lost some of their memories. also megatron took over the planet and everyone thats not them is fucking dead. right. something something, big super computer reformats them to cybertron compatible alt modes and they have to meditate and go through poor character growth to transform into their robot modes.

rattrap is the last out of the starting cast to get his robot mode. hes teased about it and is beyond frustrated with others and himself for not taking to it as quick as the others. when he DOES get his robot mode, however, he has absolutely no weapons built in. everyone else gets some kind of ability related to their beast mode except him. hes not even the demo or weapons specialist anymore because he just. doesnt have weapons!

nightscream teases him and straight up bullies him for it, making him feel useless. hes straight up ignored and passively shunned by the other maximals for being useless. sure hes still a hacker, he has features for accessing computers and opening locked doors, but in combat hes seen as an absolute burden.

theres an episode later in season 1 where he goes to megatron, seeking weapons. after making a deal to work with megatron for a while, not only does he get as many blasters as he wants, but he also gets a big mech suit. not only that, hes not shamed in the process, probably just go get rattrap on his side, he never shames him for not having any combat related abilities. this is the first time he hasnt really been made fun of or ignored in a while. when he went to make the deal with megatron, hes respected and listened to. something the other maximals refuse to do until rattrap literally opens fire on them.

eventually the day is saved with cheetor, nightscream, and blackarachnia realizing how much theyve hurt rattrap, apologizing and the power of friendship or whatever. in my opinion, the end of the episode was really forced and weak, making it look like they ONLY apologized because rattrap finally had means to retaliate against it.

the maximals, after waking up and being reformatted, have all completely changed. cheetor is a young adult who wants to take charge, ba is reduced to token woman character whos boy obsessed, primal is a religious nut getting visions from an ancient super computer like its a god, silverbolt is trapped inside a fruity jet but is a broody mess when he escapes, and rhinox is fucking evil now. the only character that stays relatively consistent to the original is rattrap.

and megatron.

its proven in the show that rattrap remembers more than the other maximals of what happened on earth. when nightscream says that the beast wars sounded stupid after being caught up on the previous show, rattrap immediately gets offended. he immediately mentions that he lost a friend in the war. this is the only direct mention of dinobot in the show at all and there is no acknowledgement from the other maximals about this statement and its immediately brushed past. in the second season, megatrons spark posseses and reanimates a corpse that looks very close to dinobot, assumedly to scare the nearby maximals (ba and silverbolt) with a familiar face. neither of them acknowledge it.

so, assuming rattrap has a better recollection of the beast wars than the rest, it must be jarring to him. in a brand new body, surrounded by familiar faces and voices, but none of them are right. none of them are how you remember them. and none of them respect you.

there must be some kind of desperation in crawling to the enemy for stable ground, especially after previously making a comment to your comrade about switching sides. a comment that led to his death. the death only you remember. you and megatron whos memories are untampered. and imagine. you go to the enemy for stability and confidence and both were handed to you, only with a little bit of bargaining. megatron is the only familiar face who still looks familiar and acts familiar. would you stay after finding some sort of stability? when you have no where else to turn?

im not saying it would be a healthy relationship by any means, but jesus christ do i think about it a lot.

if rattrap/megatron has one fan, it's me. if rattrap/megatron has no fans, im dead.

beast machines megatron/rattrap

[gothicwidowsworld]

Next adventure C.M

Platonic!Cillian x Platonic!Reader (father/daughter like relationship)

Y/N L/N’s wouldn’t call herself an emotional person, hell she could probably count on one hand the amount of times she’d cried in the past 3 years… other than work of course. 8 years, 96 months, 417 weeks or 2922 days however you wanted to look at it they were significant numbers. And the life that had become her norm was coming to an end. It could be seen as dramatic but it really was the end of an era. The sixth and final series, the y/h/c young woman’s journey as Viola Shelby was coming to a close. Goodnight Vienna so to speak. 

Scrolling through her phone the y/s/c 20 year old frowned, she loved watching the edits and fan theories regarding the show and soon that would cease to exist as well. Sighing heavily Y/N stabbed at her lunch miserably. “That was a mighty big sigh” Cillian teased, taking a seat from across the girl, concern filling his sharp features at the lack of response from the young actress. Over the years Cillian had become protective of Y/N, he was practically her work parent at this point. They’d met pretty early on in the show’s production, the casting directors wanting to make sure they could work well together considering how large a part their characters played into each other's storylines. The then twelve year old had been wide eyed and in awe of the cameras, makeup trailers and sets. “Are you ok?” Cillian asked gently, The Irishman often spent his lunchtime with the girl if neither of them were filming. Despite still wearing his character's familiar wardrobe his concern and soft spoken nature was like night and day. 

“It’s just… I can’t believe it's going to be over.” Y/N sighed again placing her phone down. “Are you going to miss me even just a little bit?” the young woman asked, nibbling her bottom lip anxiously at the thought of it all ending. “You guys are like my own little family now…” Y/N added quietly, her plate of pasta seemingly forgotten. “We’re still going to talk… You’ll probably still facetime me at insane hours. Nothing’s going to change.” Cillian replied reassuringly. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he watched Y/N absorb his words. “It’s not the end of the world sweetheart.” Cillian added quickly, the nickname slipping out before he could stop it. He’d begun calling Y/N sweetheart after a couple of days on set up until her 18th birthday when she claimed she was too grown up for a nickname any more… at least one that was ‘super cringe’. The actor had to routinely remind himself Y/N wasn’t a little girl anymore, she’d grown up before his eyes into a lovely young woman. 

“Have you got any project’s lined up for once this wraps?” the dark haired man asked, taking a bite of his own lunch. Shaking her head Y/N laughed “Not yet but Mum thinks I should focus on Uni just so I have a back up ‘if the acting thing doesn’t work out.’” the woman explained mimicking a small extract of her mother's lecture. “Your Mum’s a wise woman.” Cillian praised chuckling at the young adults' face of disagreement. The displeased look was paired with Y/N’s infamous scowl and a roll of her y/e/c orbs. “Since when has acting and education gone hand in hand for me. You know I only auditioned for Peaky to get a day off school…. Had a maths test.” The girl shivered slightly at the memory of the Year 8 mock test. Maths had never been her strong point, in fact while revising for her math GCSE’s Joe had offered to help her with the homework… let’s just say he never offered again. Y/N had all these memories, memories full of cast members, crew and soon she’d never see some of those people again. It was a bit scary leaving the safety of Peaky Blinders. Leaving the little family she’d built over the years. She just had to remember to look for the next adventure. 

“Well I'm sure whatever you turn your hand to you’ll be fantastic. No, I know you’ll be fantastic.” Cillian corrected himself. The man was sure Y/N had a brilliant career ahead of herself. He’d seen her grow from an awkward, excitable preteen to a confident, talented and devoted young woman. He didn’t want to seem too soppy but he held a torch of Father-like pride towards the girl and he couldn’t wait to see her next chapter.

 Memories 

[wherethingscomebackx]

Top 25 Larry Fics of 2020

h 2020 was HELLISH. So thank you to all the writers, and I mean ALL of them, who kept us occupied as the world continues to burn.

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

We’re going on our 5th year!!  As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2020 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

25.) a trail of honey through it all by @yvesaintlourent (27k)

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

24.) even the best laid plans by @falsegoodnight (25k)

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

-

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

23.) A Distant Hazy Light by @greenfeelings (76k)

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

22.) Ghost Note Symphony by whoknows (96k)

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

21.) Until by @allwaswell16 (38k)

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

20.) Strangers in Love by sweetums (42k)

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

-

Prompt 51: An amnesia fic where louis and harry were enemies to lovers but after an accident, louis only remembers those memories that him and harry hated each other. now harry has to fix it. I think something like this less dark and less angsty compared to other amnesia fics and it could be funny

19.) A Long Way From The Playground by Pink_Sunsets (170k)

One Direction is broken up. They broke up five years ago. That should be the end of the story, right?

Harry is finished with One Direction. He now has a new life, one with two kids and a successful solo career. And he’s happy.

But a call one night from management flips Harry’s whole new life upside down, and he’s forced to face the life he had left behind.

As well as a certain blue eyed man who had left him behind.

18.) my love’s not simple (it’s fragile) by @falsegoodnight (27k)

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks. “My shift ends at 7 but we can go for dinner at 8.”

Louis is silent for a few seconds and then, “Like… on a date?”

Harry swallows thickly. He hasn’t done this in years, hasn’t ever wanted to. “Yeah.”

He’s worried he’s misread things but then Louis raises his head to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says easily. “Sure.”

Tension leaves his body swiftly. “Are you sure?” asks Harry. “I know we’re both so busy but I can’t not try with you, Lou.”

“Neither can I,” says Louis. “I think we can figure it out. I care about you a lot Harry. We’ve known each other for a week, but I already like you so much.”

-

Or Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.

17.) Cocaine for Breakfast by @harryeatsburger (309k)

“It’s an easy job.” He continues, as if Louis wants to listen. “Like I said, a few trips. Parties, students, nothing dramatic.”

Louis gazes over to Harry. He’s looking thoughtful now, eyes on the green like he’s talking more to himself than Louis.

“Clubbing, drinks. Whatever, the business is just a side thing.”

That’s not how Louis remembers it to be, “You lying?” He honestly can’t tell.

Harry shakes his head slowly, meeting Louis' eyes.

“No,” He answers almost toneless. Harry clears his throat, “I won’t put you in any dangerous situation.” His voice is sincere, Louis can tell he means it, his jade green eyes glinting with truth.

or, - Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can't get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles. -

16.) Tastes like Strawberries by @sadaveniren (4k)

I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out

15.) the way the storm blows by @rbbsbb (21k)

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

14.) bruise you like a peach by @falsegoodnight (40k)

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

13.) Watching The World Fall by whoknows (11k)

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

12.) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds by @2tiedships2 (38k)

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

11.) The Wrath of the Emerald Eyes by @purpledandeli0n (85k)

His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his lower lip.

His smile widens as he answers Louis' question, ''My name is Styles, but you will call me Captain."

•

Pirate AU

10.) Canyon Moon by @eeveelou (40k)

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

9.) We Both Got Nothing to Hide by lovelarry10 (43k)

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”

“Kind of…”

//

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

8.) sleeping on our problems by @falsegoodnight (67k)

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.

There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word.

His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

-

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

7.) like it’s a game by @soldouthaz (32k)

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

6.) before we knew by @falsegoodnight (39k)

“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?”

Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles.

It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it.

He hates everything about his supposed soulmate.

He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples.

-

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

5.) Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

4.) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by @harryrainbows (95k)

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

3.) The Space Between by @lads-laddylads (39k)

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

2.) Nothing But You On My Mind by @absoloutenonsense (83k)

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

1.) Collision by @tequiladimples (224k)

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

[thebadgerclan]

SFW Alphabet: Kaz Brekker

Requested by Anonymous

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

With his fear of touch, it takes Kaz a while to be comfortable with physical affection, but he slowly gets there.  It starts slowly, with him holding your hand with his gloves on, putting an arm around your shoulders and waist, then holding your hand without the gloves, kissing your forehead, cheeks, and eventually your lips.  After a few months of working through his fear, he’s open to holding you for longer periods of time.  Kaz wants so badly to be physically affectionate with you, but with his phobia, it’s slow going, but he does get there

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Kaz doesn’t really do “friends”, more like allies.  But to have him as an ally, someone you knew you can rely on, that carries a lot of weight in the Barrell.  If you ever find yourself in a tight spot, you know you can call on Kaz for help, and he’ll be there, usually with a few other members of the Dregs

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Like I said in A, physical affection is something that you and Kaz have to work towards.  But once he’s comfortable with cuddling, it easily becomes one of his favorite things.  He likes to spoon you, his arms around your waist, nose buried in your hair, legs entwined.  Kaz also likes it when you lay facing him, your head buried in his chest, his hands rubbing your back.  He might not admit it, but on bad days, whether with his leg or his phobia, he loved being the little spoon, letting you hold him close and shut out the outside world

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Kaz does want to settle down, but with the Dregs, it’s not really a possibility.  So you settle for sharing a room and spending every night in each other’s arms.  But you do talk about what your future will be like when Kaz eventually gets a big payout from a job: a mansion, fancy clothes, a massive diamond ring (that’s Kaz’s addition).  He cooks well enough to keep himself alive, but to be honest, he’s not the best

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) I feel like he’d be really cold and practical about it, but he’d cry when he’s alone.  “This isn’t working, Y/N,” he says.  “We can’t be together and work together, pick one.”  Once he’s alone in his room at the Slat, he breaks down, knowing he just lost the only good thing in his life since Jordie

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Kaz fully intends to marry you, once he has enough money for a proper ceremony, one that meets every single one of the dreams you’ve had since childhood.  He gets you a simple ring, a small diamond on a silver band, and asks you to marry him.  It’s a simple proposal, but it’s romantic all the same.  “Y/N, darling, I love you more than anything else in this world.  Marry me, please, my love, make me your husband.”  He proposes after 2ish years of dating, well after he’s gotten over his fear of touch (with you at least)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Kaz has a reputation for being ruthless and violent, but with you, he’s sweet, tender, and unbelievably gentle.  Once again, once he’s over his phobia, his touch is always gentle and tender.  He never raises his voice at you, he never even thinks about hurting you.  You are his treasure, worth more than any amount of money (and when I say “over his phobia”, I mean he’s comfortable with touching you, I know that he has deep seated trauma that will never go away.  But, in my opinion, Kaz is able to work through his trauma and work towards being able to touch his girl),

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Again, after working through his phobia, Kaz LOVES hugs.  Your arms are a sanctuary, a place where he can ignore the hustle and bustle of Ketterdam, work from the Crow Club and the Dregs, and anything that’s bothering him.  He’ll often come up to you and pull you into his arms, chin resting atop your head.  His hugs are warm and safe, you know that when you’re in his arms, nothing can hurt you

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

After about 8 months, Kaz is at the point that he’s able to hold your hand without his gloves.  You’d been so patient and understanding with him, and he took your hand, risking pressing a kiss to the back of it (something else he’d recently become comfortable with was kissing your cheek and forehead).  “Thank you for being so patient with me, Y/N, I love you so much.  My girl, I love you.”

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Kaz gets jealous very easily.  If anyone gets too close to you, he’s on edge.  Even if it’s Jesper, who has little to no interest in any female, Kaz still is jealous.  He comes to your side, either taking your hand, putting an arm around your shoulders, or pulling you flush against him (depending on where he’s at in terms of working through his trauma)

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Tentative at first, when kissing is new to him.  Light, short pecks on your forehead and cheeks, before progressing to your lips.  Then they linger for a few seconds, mainly on your lips, and eventually, he gets to the point where he wants to kiss you every waking second, lips on yours until he nearly passes out.  Once he’s really comfortable with kissing, his kisses are passionate, the love he has for you palpable in the inches between you.  Kaz likes to kiss you basically everywhere: forehead, cheek, nose, lips, neck, other intimate areas ;D.  He likes to be kissed on the cheek, jaw, neck, lips (duh), and his hands. You’re one of very few people who get to see and touch his hands, so having you kiss them makes his heart flutter

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Honestly, he hates them.  I mean, remember what he said to that little girl in Crooked Kingdom?  He just doesn’t like them, there’s not much room to elaborate on that.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Most mornings, you wake to Kaz’s lips against your temple, his arms around your middle.  “Good morning, my love.”  He is loath to get out of bed in the mornings and leave your embrace, but he’s got a club to run.  Even so, he’ll spend an extra 20 minutes or so just holding you, soaking in your love and presence (This is all after he’s comfortable w/ touch, btw)

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

(Same as above, after Kaz is comfortable w/ touch)  Kaz tends to work late, so most nights, you have to drag him to bed.  You wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck.  “Come to bed, Kaz.  It’s late.”  He’ll sigh, moan about how much work he has to do, but he;ll let you herd him into bed

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

A loooooooooong time, both in regards to physical touch and the trauma he’s been through.  You know that he’s been through a lot, and you don’t push him, because you know that Kaz will tell you when he’s ready.  And sure enough, he does.  Slowly, he tells you about Jordie, the plague, how Rollins swindled him, everything about his past.  Time is your best friend in a relationship with Kaz

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

In general, fairly fast, but with you, he’s hardly angry.  On a job, Kaz can’t afford to be too patient, when he needs something, he needs it now, and he’s not afraid to do whatever he needs to get it.  But you’re a different story, with you, Kaz has endless patience.  He might snap at you at the start of your relationship, but he always apologizes immediately afterwards.  Love is new to him, so he needs you to be patient as well.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Kaz has the memory of an elephant, he has to with the jobs he does,  So he remembers every single thing you tell him, important or not.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Cliche, but the first time he kissed you.  Kaz was finally comfortable enough with that level of intimacy, and he’d removed his gloves, cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you, a long, sweet, lingering kiss.  He cried, but they were happy tears.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

You’re dating the Bastard of the Barrell, Kaz is insanely protective of you.  Whenever you go somewhere without Kaz, he has a few members of the Dregs trail you, at a distance, just to make sure that if something happens, you’re protected.  But if he can, Kaz goes everywhere with you, you on his arm, glaring at anyone who might dare cross you, as if to say “Hands off, she’s mine”

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Kaz leads a busy life, so proper dates don’t happen all that often.  But when they do, Kaz goes all out, he books a reservation at the best restaurant in Ketterdam, roses, expensive wine, the works.  Other date type things are like a private dinner in his office and simple gifts, like candy and things you’ve mentioned you want

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

It’s not a bad habit, but it’s definitely an obstacle in a relationship: his haphephobia.  He can be a little rough around the edges, and he’s pretty resistant to the idea of a relationship until he realizes how hard he’s fallen for you

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Kaz is always dressed and groomed immaculately.  A fitted three piece suit, his hair slicked back, fedora, leather gloves, shoes shined to a mirror gleam.  He takes pride in his appearance, he came from nothing, and he’s built a little empire for himself, and he’s damn proud of it

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

At first he thinks he wouldn’t, but then there’s a job that goes south, and you get hurt, and I’m talking badly hurt.  Life-threateningly bad.  Nina patches you up in seconds, but you’re unconscious and weak for a few days.  Kaz doesn’t leave your side once, his hand clutching yours.  “Please, Y/N,” he begs to your sleeping form.  “Please be alright.  I can’t live without you.  I love you, Y/N, I love you so much.  Please, wake up, my love.”

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

On your 9 month anniversary, Kaz got a third tattoo.  Above the crow and cup, next to the capital R, now resides your initials

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Kaz cannot be with someone who doesn’t respect his boundaries.  If you take his hand without thinking before he’s alright with it, but release it immediately and apologize, he’s shaken but alright.  But if you do it and don’t let go or don’t apologize, it’s a massive dealbreaker

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Kaz has trouble sleeping in storms, the rain reminds him of the tide on the Reaper’s Barge.  But cuddle him and he’s out like a light

[shinsorokiri]

S/O Loses Memory and Quirk

Todoroki, Bakugou, and Kirishima HCs

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of stab wounds and blood, a panic attack, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, sad bois

A/N: So I had two requests that mentioned these three with this concept and I just finished all of them and I’m so proud that I wanted to post these ones before the other two for Denki and All Might were finished but I’ll get those out as soon as possible. I cried writing Bakugou’s, so... there’s that HAHA please enjoy!

Here’s the first one with Shinsou, Aizawa, Hawks, and Dabi!

Todoroki Shouto | Shouto

Shouto knows you’re a strong woman and that he doesn’t need to constantly be there to protect you

But he does prefer to be there if something bad is happening 

The only problem is that you two went to two different agencies after graduating 

And in doing so were on opposite sides of the city

Now he always knew when something was happening on your hero route because I mean

He actually needs to in case something bad happens since it’s his JOB

But he also just really wants to be there for you if you really need it

There hasn’t been a time like that, though

So imagine his utter shock and genuine fear when that time came

He was told to go to where you were patrolling because you’d been attacked and wound up in the hospital 

You know the scene with the flame tear? Yeah that but times ten

He goes on patrol like a good little hero

But boy oh BOY did he just want to go to the hospital

You’d never lost a fight before

Not even against him

Your quirk was literally the most powerful quirk he’s ever seen and I mean like, yeah, sure, he might be biased but STILL you were really powerful

So what kind of villain could hurt you so bad you had to go to the hospital???

Luckily, he only had an hour left of patrolling 

And as soon as that hour was up

Mans bolted

He was OFF

He ran into that hospital 

And he politely asked where your room was

Because although he’s PANICKING he still is a little socially awkward sweetie and he doesn’t wanna be a dick to anyone and be labeled similar to his father no no NO

But as soon as he got the number he was sprinting man

He was so worried

All patrol he was quieter than usual

And he was ridiculously anxious the whole time

His palms were sweaty

He felt like he could throw up at any second

And right now

He thought his heart was about to beat out of his chest

He carefully opens the door

You might be sleeping, he has to be considerate

And sure enough he sees your unconscious form laying in a hospital bed

It looked like you had some broken bones, and multiple bruises and cuts which means someone must have beat the shit out of you

Lovely

That’s what he needed to see

Definitely 

Mans doesn’t show emotion that much

But when it comes to you and since it was just you and him in the room

He broke down crying

He couldn’t help it

He grabbed your hand

And just sat there crying

Poor guy can’t lose you

You were the best thing that ever happened to him 🥺

You showed him that it was okay to feel things and express those things and let people in

He let you in and he couldn’t let you go now

He was a genuine mess for the next couple of weeks

Because you weren’t waking up

He went against what Midoriya said and asked around about what happened to you

And what he heard was horrific

Apparently the villain snuck up on you

And hit you in a few different places

And then you fell down

And then you couldn’t access your quirk

And that’s why you were in the hospital 

He didn’t want to think about the part that happened after you were virtually defenseless

Around his friends he was spacier than usual

He wasn’t really retaining information

And his agency let him take more days off than usual because they knew he was Going Through It

And luckily on one of those days you woke up

He was next to you as per usual 

Holding your hand

Playing with your fingers like he always does when he gets anxious

He missed being able to do that in social situations 

Or when you two were cuddling at night and he was thinking about something that was stressing him out and he would start to fiddle with your hand and you would ask him what’s wrong

He missed you

So when he felt your hand start to move by itself

He basically gave himself whiplash with how fast he looked from your hand to your face

Sure enough

Your eyes were open

And you were looking at him

“(Y/n)…”

He whispered your name as not to scare you

You could have a concussion or mild amnesia

He has already considered everything that could be wrong with you

Because he overthinks a lot

And he was nervous about this

And there was one thing he had in the back of his mind

That would probably be the worst case scenario

And much to his fears

That was confirmed to be what was going on almost immediately

“Todoroki?”

He just stares for a moment

You hadn’t called him Todoroki since… well, a long time now

Probably back in your UA days

The two of you began dating in your second year though so

It’s been a while

“You look… older..?”

He clears his throat

Nodding

“Yes. Well… I am 20 years old now. I would hope I look older.”

“Wait, what?”

Oh shit.

He just confused you. 

Damnit, Shouto. 

“Uhh… well, um. You see…”

“Todoroki what is going on? And why are you holding my hand like that?”

He freezes

He was still playing with your fingers

And it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to

You were just genuinely confused

He knew that

“Before I say anything else that could be detrimental to your mental health, maybe you should ring your nurse.”

You do as he says

And the nurses and a doctor come rushing into your room

They do some evaluations

And sure enough

Your memory has been completely wiped

As has the access to the portion of your brain that allows you to control your quirk

The doctor explains to Todoroki that he’s unsure of how this happened

Bu Todoroki knows it has to be that villain

Whatever that villain did did this to you

And Todoroki isn’t one to show emotions

But boy oh BOY was he riled up right now

He lowkey accidentally caught something on fire

And then to fix it lowkey on purpose just turned it into a block of ice

Even though Endeavor is the worst man on the planet

Mans is persistent on shit that’s for sure

And that’s like

The only trait Shouto got from that literal dumpster fire of a father

And he wasn’t about to let the piece of shit that hurt you get away with it

Of course, when it comes to you as a person he’s very patient

Very understanding

Respects boundaries 

But he will not REST

Until the motherfucker who did this to you gets caught by him

And he will find them.

Bakugou Katsuki | DynaMight

OH BOY HERE WE GO

So Bakugou was already very protective over you

I mean that’s expected though

It’s

It’s literally Bakugou

So mans has tabs on you at all times

You don’t know how he does it tbh

He jokes

Yes, Bakugou can joke

He jokes about having a sixth sense when it comes to you

He just gets this feeling about you

If you’re sad? He knows

Happy? He knows

In danger? MANS KNOWS

And I guess he also has a GPS built into his brain???

He just

He knows

Probably because he cares extremely deeply about you

Like really fucking deeply

You’re the best thing that has ever happened to him

Ever since high school

First day

When you weren’t intimidated by him

There was just something special about you

And even though it took until after graduation and you almost DYING on a mission for him to finally accept that he can FEEL THINGS

He officially asked you to be his girlfriend

I say officially because, well

Y’all have basically been dating since like 

Second year of high school

Even though it wasn’t official

It was obvious

He was whipped

He still is

He’s known you for five years

You’ve been officially dating for two of those years

You were unofficially dating for four

You were the most important thing in his life

You even surpassed becoming the number one hero somehow

Though he will NEVER admit that

EVER

It took him a while to realize it 

But the thought of living without you?

Scared him more than any villain ever could

And that is why

Mans is all dressed up

Lookin nice

Took a day off of patrol at his agency because tonight is a special night

Of course, you don’t know anything

As it should be

He didn’t tell a soul that he was planning on proposing tonight

Okay… maybe that is a lie

He told Kirishima when he got blackout drunk with the boys one night

Long story, don’t ask how it happened, even the boys don’t know

And Kirishima then proceeded to tell everyone of his other friends 

So they all knew

But they also all knew to keep it a FUCKING SECRET unless they wanted blown up

But boy oh boy they were excited to see the pictures and the ring and the everything

But I digress

Bakugou is in the house the two of you purchased a while back

It was very much off the damn grid

For ~safety~ 

And he’s very much just messing with how he looks

He has to look perfect because he knows you’re about to 

And he can’t be proposing to you unless he’s on your level

When suddenly

He gets a

Feeling

But it isn’t the warm feeling he gets when you’re happy

Or the doopy one he gets when you’re sad

Or the wave of exhaustion he feels when you’re tired

Or the tingly feeling he gets when you’re mad

No

It’s the feeling where his spine tenses

And his blood goes cold

And his heart drops to the floor

The one he only felt one other time

The time you almost died

He was out of that house so fast

He didn’t even care if he looked all nice

You were in danger

He blasted his way through the city

Saying he was frantic is an understatement

He was FERAL

He got to where you were just in time to see you get slammed into the concrete by some piece of shit villain

You were unconscious

And you weren’t moving

He saw red

He didn’t even remember blasting over to the villain and punching them in the face

But he did that

And he did it HARD

Of course the villain was like OH FUCK

THIS IS THE NUMBER TWO HERO

I DIDN’T THINK HE’D ACTUALLY GET HERE THIS FAST

Because obviously the villain knew who you were

That’s why you were targeted 

Breaking Bakugou’s spirit is needed if villains want to become more fearful and powerful

The villain starts sprinting away

And before Bakugou can catch them

He hears an ambulance siren

He suddenly forgets all about the villain because he whips around to see you getting loaded onto a gurney

Paramedics are doing everything they can to keep you alive at this point

He’s horrified to say the least

You’re the love of his life

The last time he saw you like this is when he accepted it

Seeing you like this again just makes him realize it even deeper somehow

He runs to the ambulance

But the paramedics tell him he needs to go to the hospital separately because you’re badly injured and they need to perform some procedures on the way to the hospital to keep you alive

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until his eyes start to sting

He wants to tell the paramedics to fuck off

Don’t they realize this is supposed to be one of the best days of yours and his lives?

But he can’t 

Because before he can

They’re gone

He chases after you though

He needs to be by your side right now

He needs to know that you will be okay

He needs you to be okay

So imagine how nerve-wracking it is for him to learn that you were in surgery

He waited in the waiting room all day long

This incident happened around one in the afternoon

and it was now one in the morning

He was just sitting in the hospital waiting room

Looking down at the little box in his hand

Crying

Which is a sight for anyone who sees him

The ring he bought for you is the only thing he can focus on

He doesn’t even notice the non-stop buzzing in his pocket coming from his and your friends wondering if the two of you are okay because the footage of the fight cut out right before Bakugou punched the villain

They all thought you were both hurt pretty badly

I mean after your quirk was seemingly taken from you…

The only thing that snaps him out of his trance

Is when the doctor comes out and says his name

His head snaps up so fast

He approaches the doctor just as fast

He knows he should expect the worst

But he can’t help but keep repeating that you’re okay

That everything will be fine because you are okay

They fixed you up

You’ll come home all happy

He’ll propose to you in the living room at this point

Today will be fixed

Instead

He hears that although you’re stable

You have what appears to be brain damage

“What kind of fucking brain damage?”

“She has severe amnesia which means that-”

“How severe?”

“Well… according to her brain scan and the fact that she said the year was two and a half years ago, I’m afraid it’s significantly severe.”

Two and a half years

Two and a half years?!

He just stares at the doctor

If you think it’s two and a half years ago

That means he hasn’t asked you out yet

That means in your mind

You’re still in high school

About to graduate

This cannot be happening

There is not way this is happening

“Can I see her?”

His voice sounds foreign to him

The doctor nods

Leading him to your room

He puts the ring back in his pocket out of instinct

And when he enters your room

He wants nothing more than for you to yell something like PSYCH

GOT YOU BLASTY BITCH

HAHAHA

But he’s just met with a your mouth opening wide and eye getting big

“Bakugou?! You’re so dressed up!”

Bakugou

Why didn’t he let you call him Katsuki sooner

Why didn’t he ask you out before two years ago

Why wasn’t he there to save you

“W-Woah… Bakugou, you don’t have to cry this isn’t my first hospital stay… wait, when did you get an undercut?”

He just walks towards you

“You also look… older… is this seriously what you look like when you clean up?”

He watches as your expression falters for a moment

“Wait… are you like… going on a date or something?”

Good to know you still have feelings for him at least

He just nods

And you try to hide the disappointment on your face

“Oh… well, you better tell me all about it when we get back to the dorms.”

Your fake enthusiasm is killing him

What killing him even more though is that the doctors didn’t tell you what was going on

So he’ll tell you instead

“Actually,”

Damnit

His voice is wavering

This is new for him

He clears his throat

“I’m not… I’m not going on a date anymore. I had one but… things didn’t turn out as planned.”

“Oh?”

He almost smiles at the sudden mood shift you had

How can you still be perky like that sitting in a hospital bed

“Yeah… because, um. It was a date with you…”

“…Oh…?”

“You got hurt pretty bad, angel…”

He explains everything to you

Well 

As much as he can

And he also finds out about your quirk

And how it’s just

Gone

You have to stay in the hospital tonight for further testing tomorrow

And you insist that he goes home

But he says it isn’t home if you’re not there

He stays in the chair right next to your bed

Watching you as you sleep

He knows you believe him

He knows that you have feeling for him

But he’s broken, truly

Not only was he not your hero today

He didn’t save you

He doesn’t know if you’ll ever remember any of those years with him

Any of your firsts

And that makes him ache

He pulls out your ring again

And just looks at it

The only light in the room is the moonlight peaking in through the window

And in that moment

He swears to himself

And to you

That the villain who did this

Is going to pay

Kirishima Eijirou | Red Riot

Eijirou has always been your rock

Figuratively and literally

He’s there for you through everything

And I mean everything

The two of you have been next door neighbors since you were kids

And he literally always had a crush on you

Of course the feelings were mutual

But neither you nor shark boy knew that

Until y’all got to high school

And Bakugou was very

Annoyed

About the two of you pining for each other

Mina was beyond annoyed 

She went to middle school with you two

So when Bakugou finally just

Screamed at the two of you to just shut the fuck up with the flirting and date already

Mina deadass jumped out of her seat at lunch and screamed thank you at the top of her lungs

Of course the two of you were as red as his hair

Which, yes

You did help him pick out the exact shade and helped dye as well

His hands were stained red because he accidentally only bought one pair of gloves and it wouldn’t have been manly to make you help without gloves on

But I digress

The two of you started dating shortly after that

And when I tell you that you were the couple everyone would look at and be all “awwwww”

I MEAN IT

And y’all are just in high school

Granted, it’s your final year and the two of you are both interning and are already confirmed to become sidekicks and Fatgum’s Agency

So y’all do be a little mature

But still

You started dating freshman year

And you’re going strong still

Of course

And words cannot describe how relieved he is that the two of you are at the same agency

Because if anything ever went bad he would be there to save you

And you would be there to save him

But literally nothing could prepare him for what was about to happen to you

It was a normal patrol

The two of you were together

Talking about graduation next week

And how the two of you were excited to move out of the dorms and into the apartment you had picked

And how you would finally be able to adopt the little mutt that the two of you love from the shelter

When out of no where

A villain popped down off of a building

Right behind you

And did something weird to you

They hit you meticulously and in specific places

Before Kirishima could even process what was going on

You were on the ground

Of course

You raised an arm

Ready to fight and use your quirk

But nothing happened

You tried again

Nothing

You and Kirishima make eye contact and he can feel the fear radiating off of you

Now he was worried

Very worried

But you knew how to fight

And he was there, too

So this wouldn’t end too bad

UNTIL THERE WAS A FUCKING EXPLOSION IN THE BUILDING THE VILLAIN JUST POPPED OUT OF

You were already back on your feet

Ready to fight this motherfucker

“Go help the people inside, Red Riot. I can handle this one.”

“But-”

“GO!”

He goes

Reluctantly

But he does know you can hold your own

Even if that villain temporarily blocked your quirk

He hardens

Turning his headpiece into a filtering mask (a great addition he thought of so he could run into burning buildings while hardened to save people and not take damage to his lungs in the process)

And luckily

There were only three people inside

So he grabs them and runs out

Easy

And he’s expecting to be met with you handcuffing the bad guy

But instead

He’s met with you getting the life beat out of you

Literally

You’re on the ground

The villain pulled out swords while he was gone

And it was obvious you were down and weren’t gettingup

But the villain just wasn’t letting up

Kirishima’s legs work before his brain

He runs over to the villain and lands a punch to their face

Which causes them to stumble backwards

Before they throw the swords at a random citizen who is observing

He immediately runs to the citizen, deflecting the swords

But the villain ran off in the mean time

Like they disappeared without a trace

But honestly

Even if they were still there

Kirishima would have run to you regardless

He immediately kneels down

“(Y/n)?! (Y/n), can you hear me?!”

He ditched the hero names this time

You weren’t responding

You were out cold

He starts panicking

Like

Full on hyperventilating

You looked bad

You were pierced by the villains swords in your side

Blood was everywhere

Your breathing was shallow

Regardless of the genuine panic attack he was going through right now

He somehow managed to control his breathing so you wouldn’t bleed out on the ground

He needed to help you

He picks you up

Instantly starting to sprint to the ambulances beginning to pull up

As soon as the paramedics see the state you’re in they get you off of him

And speed off to the hospital

Kirishima is left alone 

Staring at his hands 

Which were dyed red with your blood

All he could see was your face laughing at him because he forgot to get two pairs of gloves the first time you helped him dye his hair

…He didn’t like red all that much right now

After what feels like hours

But was really like two minutes

Tamaki shows up

Because he heard there was something going on

And as soon as he sees Kirishima on the ground and sobbing

He knows something bad has happened to you

He quickly gets him out of there

And back to the agency

Where Kirishima accidentally sees a replay of the fight on television

And he sees that you were fighting the villain just fine

But they were so nimble and fast 

And all they did was hit the nape of your neck and then the side of your temple

And you collapsed

Tamaki turned the television off before the full fight was shown

But the damage was done

Kirishima was back on the ground

Tamaki tries to comfort him

But Kirishima is out of commission

“I couldn’t save her, Tamaki! I wasn’t there!”

“…C-Come on, Kirishima… w-we should… go to the hospital…”

Tamaki is trying so hard to get him to calm down 

But to no avail

So eventually he just drags him out and to his car

He speeds to the hospital

And Kirishima doesn’t even wait for the car to slow down to run inside

He has to wait to see you

Since you were punctured 

But he was willing to wait

And wait he did 

For four days

Of course after you were done with your surgery he was allowed in your room

But it was a matter of waiting for you to wake up

He was always with you

He only went home to shower

He slept at the hospital

He needed to be with you

So when you finally woke up

He cried tears of happiness for the first time in days

“(Y/n), thank god you’re awake.”

“Eiji? What happened…?”

“There was a villain attack and they knocked you out and-”

“Why don’t you look 15?”

“What?”

“You look… older… and your hair is longer.”

“…What? You were the one who encouraged me to grow it out…”

“I… I was?”

He stares at you for a moment

His happy tears turning into ones of fear

Before hitting the call nurse button and asking you a question

“(Y/n) what grade are we in?”

“We’re freshmen at UA High School.”

No. 

No, no, no, no, no

Before he could answer the doctor and nurses came in the room

They started asking you a bunch of questions

To which you answered the best you could

But it was obvious that you were convinced it was two years ago

The doctors took you off to do scans of your brain

This can’t be happening

You think it’s two years ago

Two years

So much has happened within those two years

The two of you have done so much

Just

Imagine how devastated he is when he hears your memory is just gone

And your quirk with it

You were a hero

Your quirk can’t be gone

“Eiji… please don’t cry, it’ll be okay.”

“I can’t help it, pebble. I wasn’t there to save you and now… now you don’t remember everything we’ve done. And… and your quirk… you’re the best hero I know, and now…”

“Eijirou, I promise you it will be okay. As long as you’ll be with me, like you always are, I will be fine.”

He doesn’t say anything

He just looks at his hand holding yours

At least you still remember he asked you to be his girlfriend

But he is deadset on finding the villain who did this to you

“I will get you out of this.”

“Ei…”

“I will fix this. I promise you. I will save you. I need to.”

[nobodyfamousposts]

Blue Memories (lbscexchange2021)

Yay! It’s Valentine’s Day! 

Soooo....who wants a sad?

He opened the door for Marinette and gently escorted her inside.

She looked around, surveying every detail. The baby blue of the accent wall. The furniture in all of its strange varieties of makes that still somehow fit together. The assortment of decorations from the little black cat figurine that had been a joke housewarming gift from friends to her potted plants lined up at the wide windows—still tenderly cared for, even in her absence. All things that were part of the home. All things that made the home their own.

And yet, not a single hint of warmth came to her eyes.

“This is…my house?”

Ours, he didn’t say.

After all the things they had experienced throughout the years—the monsters they’d fought, the battles they’d won, the people they’d saved…

It seemed so surreal that it was something as simple as a car accident that would take her down.

She stepped through the entryway into the main room—tentative. Unsure. Like she didn’t think she belonged. Her grip on her cane tightened, belying her anxiety.

He rested a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. Allowing her to use him as her other support as she was forced to confront a home she didn’t know and memories she couldn’t recall.

“Just…take a bit of time to familiarize.” He whispered.

I will be with you every step of the way.

She took a breath but nodded before moving forward, and for a second—

Standing tall, wearing her suit like armor, her shoulders broad and head high in steely determination even in the face of overwhelming odds—

Luka could see the courageous young woman he loved in this stranger’s frame.

For her part, Marinette was…handling the circumstances if nothing else.

She stepped away from him, standing with only her cane and her one good leg for support. Rather than immediately head for the couch or any place to rest, she wandered the room, taken in by the all of the remnants of a person she used to be.

There was an array of frames along the wall as she passed, each containing memorabilia from newspaper clippings to artwork to awards. She gave them a cursory glance, none of them really standing out. At most, she barely touched one that contained a pink ribbon—

“Isn’t this a bit much? And a bit silly?”

Alya had gasped in mock outrage. “Girl, this is your own design house! We have to have a ribbon cutting ceremony to make it official! Otherwise, what have our years of labor been for?”

Marinette giggled. “You mean my labor?”

“Hey, don’t forget who did the interviews.” The other woman said with a wink.

More giggling.

“Of course, of course! I never would have gotten this far without you. Any of you.”

“And don’t forget it!” More giggling. “And besides, a happy opening is a sign of a happy beginning. This is your dream, girl! Go all out and enjoy it becoming real!”

“Okay, okay! So how will we do this?”

Luka smiled as he brought over the fancy scissors.

—pink ribbon, a couple inches thick, contained in a frame along with a picture of a group of strangers standing outside a building.

He carefully took their bags back to their his room, allowing her a moment to reflect and himself time to gain some composure.

To think it would be a car accident that did this. Not some epic villain battle, no. A stupid car accident because of her insistence on meeting him at the airport and some idiot who decided to run a red light. He'd consider laughing if he wasn't on the verge of breaking down…

But…she needed him. More than ever now.

When he returned, she was standing at the wall aligning with the window, lightly touching the dollhouse that was stationed there.

“Do we…did we have kids?”

“No.” Not yet.

It was grand—a four storied house with five rooms on each floor, each fully furnished in different ways. Its outside had the design of a cozy cottage, with walls were painted with a soft pink as well as white doors and window shutters. All of which were moveable, to her amazement.

“Where did we even get something like this?”

It had been a labor of love.

She hadn’t wanted to leave the kwamis stuck in the Miracle Box with no idea of the happenings in the world. And as they had begun spending more time outside, Marinette had been insistent that the kwamis deserved their own space outside of the Box. It had taken her weeks to make it—and multiple failed attempts.

She gave them their own home within hers. She’d wanted them to feel welcome.

It may very well have been the first time the little gods had cried.

“It was…a project.”

She frowned, but didn’t speak further. Her gaze turned to the nearby shelf on the adjoining wall. Holding a number of books. A single bin full of yarn for knitting. Two guitars rested along the side.

“Luka, it’s beautiful, but…why?”

“Why not?” He smiled.

“But…I’m not much of a guitar player. You know that. I’m not like you, Mr. Top 20 three-weeks-in-a-row. I still don’t know how to play the guitar.”

She moved to put it back in its case, but he pulled her back and into his lap along with the guitar. Her squawk of surprise only made him grin, and he placed a kiss to her head.

“That just means you’ll have more opportunity to learn.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“Do you play?” She had asked, curious as she looked over the two guitars.

He smiled bitterly.

“Wow,” Dingo whistled as he peeked through the curtains. “Quite a crowd out there.”

“I’m not sure I can do this.” Luka muttered.

It had been one thing when he had been playing with Kitty Section. But the band had gone their separate ways and now he was playing center stage.

“No worries. It’s only your first show. If you choke, who will even remember?”

He sighed. “Yeah, see, that? That’s not helping.”

“I’ll tell you something that will, though…” Dingo trailed off with a smirk. Before Luka could react, the other wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him to view the opening in the curtain.

“Dingo!”

“Take a look!”

Luka glared at his friend—or tried, but Dingo’s grip around his neck really kept him from turning in any direction besides the one the other wanted.

Dingo, for his part, didn’t even have the grace to look back, instead grinning at something through the curtain.

“A certain little lady in the center seat of the middle row.”

Luka froze. And immediately, his eyes glanced over the crowd, searching for…

Dark hair.

Blue eyes.

A bright neon pink sign with his name.

Her smile.

He breathed.

“Mari…”

Dingo clapped him on the back and released him.

“If you can’t play for your fans, play for her. You know she’ll always listen…”

“Yeah.” He answered.

What else could he say?

He’d built up his music career over years. For all that she had been busy with her own design house, she had still be there for him every step of the way. Supporting him. Inspiring him.

And now only one of them still knew that.

“Congratulations on the release of your new single!”

Ah.

He winced as the flashing lights hit him.

For all the time he spent on tour, he would never get used to this.

“Thank you.”

He knew better than to respond. It wouldn’t be enough. It was like an avalanche of questions and microphones barreling down on him.

“Mr. Couffaine! How do you feel about your ranking on the Music’s Top Ten?”

“Is there any truth to the rumors that you are doing a collaboration piece with Jagged Stone?”

“Are you really having an illicit affair with XY?”

“Luka Couffaine, you just completed the last stop of your world tour! What are you going to do now?”

Finally, the one question he wanted to answer.

“I have someone to see.”

It had been both a dismissal and an explanation as he took his leave to wait for his ride.

Tomorrow was their anniversary, after all. He’d managed to schedule the end of his tour to give him just enough space to make it back in time to spend it with her.

Marinette was probably already waiting at the airport at this moment.

Or at least…she should have been?

He checked his watch. Was he early? A bit, but not by much…it had been a little last minute for her, though. Maybe she was caught in traffic?

His phone rang. Was that her?

“Hello?”

“…”

“…”

“…what?”

He winced and turned away, trying to fight back the burning in his eyes.

Maybe she saw his reaction because she went silent as well. The tension of the room heightened, near to the point of stifling. For all that he wanted to reach out to her, there was a distance between them that felt…impassible.

He heard her move further into the room. Closer to the kitchen, it sounded like. He listened as something seemed to slide briefly across the countertop, as if she had picked up something for a closer look. Despite his better judgement, his curiosity got the better of him and he turned to see—

It had been hell. The date. The entire day. Hell. To the point he was convinced that some higher powers were giving a sign that this relationship wasn’t meant to be.

Except it wasn’t a sign, it was a fucking billboard.

He’d had it all planned out. Picking her up in his new car. They would have dinner together, followed by a movie, coffee and dessert at a nice little cafe he’d heard good things about, then a stroll by the Seine.

Except whatever higher power up there hated him, apparently.

First the car—the brand new (okay, only slightly used) car he’d recently purchased wouldn’t start, so he’d had to ride his bike to reach her. This meant the restaurant was a no go, meaning his reservation that he’d put in a good month in advance went to waste. Marinette had suggested they just walk to the movie which he was fine with, except that it started raining and the theater in question suffered a power outage. Desperately trying to salvage the night, he’d led her to the cafe anyway only to find they had apparently gone out of business the day before.

Luka was…done. He was just done. He’d apologized profusely and tried to call a cab for her before he’d walk home in the rain so he could scream into his pillow.

Suffice to say, he was pretty sure the date was a bust. And would likely be the first and last he’d ever get with her.

But while he’d been on the phone discovering that traffic was backed up and even THAT much of the night wasn’t going to go right either, Marinette had noticed a little souvenir kiosk under an awning nearby. He hadn’t known what specifically had caught her eye, but when she returned, it was with a thermos of tea she had brought from home and two little mugs she’d just purchased—both with their own different engravings.

She passed the "I AM WEIRD" cup to him. Was…was this a joke? Was she saying something?

He wasn't sure what it was until he saw her blushing as she sipped from her own cup, clearly displaying the engraving of "I LOVE WIERD".

The night went wrong in so many ways. But there…huddling from the rain under the storefront tarp, sitting next to her...he felt warmer than the hot tea could have been responsible for.

She held the “I LOVE WEIRD” cup gingerly, staring at the porcelain as if it could tell her its secrets. But when nothing could be found, she set it back at its previous place and continued on.

Marinette’s gaze had moved on to the next item of interest. She peered into the various photographs lining the top of the nearby shelf. Each contained images of a young couple. A man with teal hair and a lip ring along with a woman with dark blue hair and earrings. The pictures varied—them hugging while bundled up in the winter season, him picking her up and her holding him tightly for balance, them dancing at an outdoor festival, them making silly faces in a photobooth. Each one of them smiling.

One that kept her attention, however, had the man in a tuxedo and the woman in a stunning floor length dress. It was white with an illusion neckline, and bore the images of petals. But the truly striking feature was the airbrushed effect at the bottom of the dress as it changed from white to vibrant teal and finally to black—a clear match to the hair of the man standing beside her.

It was a wedding.

She had said he inspired her dress. That she had made it with him in mind. He had believed her, of course. He never needed her to prove she loved him.

But oh, how his heart had sung seeing her like that. In his colors. Showing the world whom she belonged with.

He had barely heard anything the priest had said. He had to have stumbled in his vows at least twice. He was torn between burning to touch her and yet not wanting to dare to—that something so beautiful shouldn’t be touched.

He would never forget the way she had reached out for him instead and held his hands with hers as she said she wanted to start a life with him.

She picked up the picture.

“It’s beautiful.”

It’s her.

“It’s beautiful. And I can’t…I don’t…”

Like gravity had failed her, she collapsed rather than sat onto the sofa—

That ugly, ugly leather sofa that Jagged had insisted they take with them from Marinette’s brief stint as his personal designer.

“No, you keep it, Mari. You’re gonna need something to spruce up your new place.”

“Jagged, seriously. That thing is hideous and I don’t need it.”

“What are you talking about? It’s perfect! It’s leather! And sturdy! And you can even pull it out into more of a bed. Besides, who knows when you’ll be bringing a studly young man to your place and need something to ‘rock it’ in, eh?”

“Oh my god, Jagged, please don’t!”

“Ey, Luka! Come on, mi boy, back me up!”

“Luka, don’t you dare—!”

Luka, for his part, kept his focus on cleaning his equipment and wisely said nothing.

He moved to her side without thinking.

“Mari…”

“What…” She looked up at him, hopelessly lost. “What now? What do…we do?”

She held the picture frame to her, as if trying to fill the hole in her heart that once contained years worth of love.

“I don’t know what…I don’t know how to…”

She sobbed.

If the phone call had shattered his world, this had crushed the remaining pieces.

“What…what are you saying?”

The doctor sighed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Couffaine. But the damage of the crash and the shock of the incident has led to some trauma. We are running tests, but there is no way to tell just how great the extent is or how long it will last.”

He barely heard the words for what they were. Percentages. Chances. Outcomes. Luck.

She’d always beaten the odds before, hadn’t she?

She could…

Surely, she could…

He barely noticed when the doctor had led him to the white—white, white horrible white room.

And the all too pale and shaken woman resting inside.

“Who are you?”

It was her eyes.

Her beautiful blue eyes.

But not a trace of familiarity.

“Hello, Marinette.”

He smiled, trying to not let tears fall.

“My name is Luka…”

He slowly moved to sit beside her, taking his wife into his arms like he always did.

It…wasn’t the same.

"It'll be okay..."

Throughout his life, Luka had always been a river. Slow. Steady. Constantly cutting a path through life and through the world.

Luka was a river.

But for Marinette, he had been her rock.

“We’ll make new ones.” He promised her.

Day by day. Moment by moment. He would stay with her and make new memories.

It wouldn’t replace what was lost.

But they would make it together.

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 20/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall  See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

The incident breeds awkwardness between them for the rest of the morning.  Katherine moves out of his arms eventually and he helps her to gather her clothes.  She keeps her eyes down as she dresses, leaving things unbuttoned and untied, and doesn’t look at him.

“I just need a few minutes to put some fresh clothes on,” she says.  “And then I’ll see to breakfast.”

“Take your time.  I’ll need to check on the boys and see if the storm did any damage.”

She nods once and then she slips out the door.  He wonders if he should go after her or say something, but he doesn’t know what to say that he hasn’t already.  He sighs and then dresses for the day.

Melvin and Trevor already have the barn open when he makes it outside.  Richard is repairing a fencepost in the hog pen.  The ground is muddy, but the sky is blue and the sun is bright.  

“How are things?” Mulder asks.

“Everyone pulled through,” Melvin answers.  “Trevor said that them sheeps were noisy little buggers.  Queenie was fit to be tied over their restlessness, but they settled once the rain let up.”

“How did George do?”

“Just fine.  We actually moved the goats into the stable before it got bad and I put ‘em in with George.  They kept good company for each other.”

“Roof held up?”

“Just fine.”

“Good, good.”

“Everything alright with you?”

“Just fine.”  Mulder rubs the back of his head and looks away from Melvin.

“Mmhm.”

With Jesse and Jimmy away, there is just too much to be done for Mulder to dwell on Katherine’s reluctance to let him in.  Whatever happened this morning, it doesn’t change the closeness they shared the night before, that he now knows is possible to have.  He’s not angry, he’s just sad for her and for them.  Whatever Jack Willis did to her, if the man wasn’t already dead, Mulder would kill him.

It takes some time to relocate the livestock back to their pens.  The hogs romp and roll in the mud, ecstatic, ignoring their slop initially in favor of getting dirty.  Katherine rings the breakfast bell as they’re mucking the stables and Mulder sends them in ahead of him.  He doesn’t have much of an appetite anyway.

Katherine jumps up from the table when he comes in and rushes to the stove.  He puts his arm around her and takes the spatula from her hand.  “Go on and sit down,” he says.  “I know how to fix a plate up.”

“The eggs might be cold.  I covered the bacon to keep it warm.”

“That’s my fault.  I’m late.”  He kisses her cheek and sends her away.

Melvin scrutinizes them the whole meal.  He can feel the older man’s eyes on him at times and he catches him looking at Katherine as well.  

“It’s already starting to dry up out there,” Mulder says.  “I think we should send the horses out to pasture today, what do you think?  Let them run off any residual nerves and they might enjoy a nice roll in the mud, though probably not as much as the hogs.”

“You want to run the curry comb through the lot of ‘em at the end of the day, go on ahead,” Melvin says.

Mulder chuckles.  “It’s Saturday.  You boys planning on heading down to the bath house tonight?  Faithful Jenny and Blondie would probably like a nice ride.  That black stallion from the postal team, he handles well with a saddle.”

“Why do you call the horse Faithful Jenny?” Katherine asks.

Richard laughs.  Mulder chuckles around a mouthful of eggs.  Trevor turns a shade of red that would make a ripe tomato jealous.  Melvin coughs into his fist.

“Have you ever heard of Old Faithful in Yellowstone?” Mulder asks.

Katherine shakes her head no.  Mulder takes another stab at his eggs and then wipes his eyes and sits back.

“Old Faithful is a geyser,” he says.  “Some members of an expedition were camped nearby and noticed that she erupted with predictability every ten minutes or so.”

Richard pounds a fist on the table and laughs so hard he doubles over off the bench.  Mulder shakes his head, but has to laugh with him.

“We got Jenny from a rancher nearby that couldn’t take it no more,” Melvin continues where Mulder left off.  “He come ‘round with her and asked if we could just buy her off him for a fair price because he was at his wits end.”

“But, she’s a lovely horse,” Katherine says.

“Oh, yes,” Mulder says.  “She’s a good old gal, she was just also foraging in the wrong places and got herself a bad case of the colic.”

“You’re not gettin’ to the best part,” Richard says.

“Why don’t you go ahead,” Mulder tells him.  “You sure do enjoy the tale.”

“The best part is that when Mr. Miles dropped her off he said, ‘I tell you what, you can set your watch by that horse’s farts, I reckon.  Probably gives Old Faithful a run for her money.’”

“Oh, my.”  Katherine’s cheeks redden for a moment and then the corners of her mouth pick up and her lips quiver like she’s trying to suppress her amusement, but she can’t hold it for long.  Her giggles almost sound like hiccups and she covers her mouth with one hand.  Her shoulders are shaking and she lets go with a full belly laugh that has the whole table roaring in no time.

“She’s on a special diet now so her, uh, troubles have passed,” Mulder says, when the laughter has died down.  “But, we got used to calling her Faithful Jenny and so the name just carries on.”

“Poor Jenny,” Katherine says.

“You’re lucky you never stood downwind of her some years ago,” Richard says.

The table breaks up into laughter once more.

↭

She’s felt anxious and embarrassed for most of the day.  The hilarity at the breakfast table eased some of her tension, but by noon dinner she had a knot in her stomach.  Her misery is self-imposed.  She knows this.  Mulder has been nothing but gentle and tender with her all day and she returns his kindness with silence.

While the men tend to the horses and get ready for their Saturday trek into town, she launders the sheets and the week’s dirty clothes.  There’s a stain on one of Mulder’s undershirts and she realizes it’s the one he used to clean her hands last night.  The thought of what they did makes her breathless.  She has to grip the side of the washtub to keep upright she feels so faint.

She wants so badly to erase the past and move forward.  She wants so badly for this new marriage she has to feel real.  Last night was as real as it could be, but she had to ruin things this morning.  Perhaps she’s mistaking Mulder’s kindness for pity, and she wouldn’t blame him for it.  She’s pathetic and weak and doesn’t deserve all the nice things he’s done for her.

She refuses to dwell on this now.  She has chores to do and meals to prepare.  It’s why she’s here.  Not to fall in love with her own husband.  She gasps and for the second time, has to grip the side of the washtub.  Is she in love?  No, she can’t be.  She hardly knows him.  She only knows that he’s kind, he’s generous, he laughs easy, he has a slight temper, but isn’t violent.  He’s patient, he’s good to his horses and the men that work for him.  He’s good to her.  

She hears the back door close and she startles at the sound and automatically jumps to start scrubbing the undershirt in her hand.  Mulder knocks softly on the side of the washroom door and smiles at her.

“The boys are heading into town,” he says.  “I told them to go ahead and set out early and I thought I’d go ahead and make supper for us tonight.”

“You can cook?”

“I’m hurt that there’s doubt in your tone.”

“I’m not doubting, I’m just…”

“Naturally skeptical, since I have not yet proven my worth to you.”

“You’ve more than proven your worth,” she says, softly, taking the teasing tone out of the conversation.

Mulder smiles at her and reaches out to cup her cheek.  She wants to believe that she is worth the trouble if he can still touch her so fondly and make her feel so cared for.

“Need help with the laundry?” he asks.

“I’m nearly done, just need to get these shirts scrubbed and hang up this last basket to dry.”

“I can do that.”  He squeezes past her to take the basket of damp clothing and then hoists it up over her head to squeeze back out.  “That pulley you had Richard install is just about the most genius thing I’ve ever seen.”

Mulder takes the laundry away and she finishes with the shirts.  She goes out to the back to pin them up and he lets her take over the line.  She gets fresh linens on the beds, does some dusting, and cleans up the washroom.  Before she’s through, she can smell the hearty aroma of meat cooking and hear the sizzle of the skillet.

“Pork chops?” she asks.

“I confess it’s about the only thing I can cook, but I do it well.”

“Should I chop anything?”

“No, Ma’am.  I’ve had potatoes baking for some time and I brought up a jar of applesauce.”

“There are a few corn fritters leftover from dinner that I wrapped.  We could heat those as well.”

“I think that sounds perfect.”

Katherine sets the table for two.  The pork chops are delicious.  He shows her how to garnish a baked potato with chopped bacon and bits of chives and cheese, which she’d never seen done before.  She tries to imagine an easy life with him and what it would have been like if only they’d met four years ago.

“Have you given any thought to what you’d like in the expansion?” he asks.

Katherine shakes her head.  “There isn’t anything in particular that I can think of.  I would like...well, I would like the porch to stay the way that it is.  Facing west.  I like watching the sunset.”

“I wouldn’t dream of changing that.  I was thinking I might convert the bunkhouse into a guest house.  And I’d like to have an office built on the other side of the kitchen.  There must be something you’d like though.  A parlor?  Sewing room?  Laboratory?”

She shakes her head at him and then laughs.  “A laboratory?”

“Some place for the science things you enjoy.”

“No, thank you.”  Her smile fades a bit as memories fall on her.  “When I was a little girl, all I used to want was my own bookcase, filled with books, but my father said that reading novels was unladylike and would rot my brain and fill it with uppity ideas.  I had a schoolteacher that did not agree, fortunately, and I did most of my reading in secret, with her help.”

“Is that the same teacher that got you interested in sciences?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a favorite novel?”

“Moby Dick always resonated with me.”

“Dense material for a young person, lady or gent.  How did it resonate?”

“The ship’s captain, Ahab, reminded me very much of my father.”  She closes her eyes for a few moments and then shakes the memories of her childhood from her head.  Her family is not a subject she wishes to think about right now.  “Do you think we could put in a magnolia tree somewhere?”

“I’ve never seen a magnolia out in these parts, but we can find out if the soil is right for it.”

“That’s all I want.”

“I’ll do my best to give it to you.”

She stands then to start clearing the dishes and to clean the kitchen.  Mulder lays a hand on her arm, very gently.

“You could have your own library,” he says.  “A room full of all your favorite books and all the ones you never got to read, but always wanted to.”

“The porch and the tree will be more than enough.”

He lets her go with a bit of reluctance and she goes on with her cleaning.  He heads out to do the evening chores in the barn and stables.  She doesn’t see him again for the rest of the evening.  She is already lying in bed when she hears him come in by the soft tread of his boots on the wood floor that she’s grown accustomed to.  She hears him open his door and there’s a long pause before he closes it.

She twists the wedding ring on her finger around and around.  When she catches herself, she shakes her hands and then starts to do her rosary, but stops that as well.  For nearly her entire life she’s been told that trusting in God and saying her prayers will bring her comfort and peace, but she’s never known it to be comforting at all.  Certainly not in the four years when she could have used it the most.  And she never knew peace until last night when she was with Mulder, so close with him, lying in his arms.

Maybe God led her here, or maybe He didn’t.  Maybe it was fate, like Mulder said.  The point is, if she wants peace, if she wants comfort, she knows where to find it.  All she has to do is get up and walk across the hallway.  Can she really ask him to do this for her though, when he’s already given her so much?  And what has she given him in return?

Katherine sighs and twists her ring again.  Finally, she kicks the sheets away and gets up from the bed.  She unties her hair and shakes it loose before she goes to her door.  It takes her some time to open it and then she stands in the dark for a few moments more before she tiptoes to his door.  The floor creaks softly under her.  She can see the lamplight shining dimly from under the bottom of his door.  It takes her another few moments and a few deep breaths, but she knocks.

Mulder opens the door.  He’s bare-chested and bare-footed.  His suspenders are slung down by his thighs and the top button of his trousers is undone.  He cocks his head in question and she drops her eyes for a few moments, but then looks back up at him.

“Could you hold me?” she asks.

He opens his mouth and then purses his lips and nods.  “Yeah, I can do that.”

[dropssofjupitter]

Red as the Dawn

Pairing: Dramione

Summary: It has been 3 weeks since Hermione Granger died in a freak accident at Malfoy Manor. Consumed by his own grief, Draco blames himself for his beloved’s death, and gives in to the destruction devouring his mind.

Word Count: 3.7 k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of blood, arson

Masterlist

A/N: This is my entry for the Dramione Death Fest on A03 because I am, first and foremost, an angst writer. This fic has not been beta read. Any mistakes or inconsistencies are my fault and mine alone. - I accidentally deleted this fic when trying to edit it, so this is fun

Draco was in tatters.

He was erratic; slashing portraits, throwing plates, burning the hedges that bordered the walkway in front of the mansion. The house-elves avoided him, his own mother, for once, didn’t know how to calm him down.

He spent his days wandering through the mansion, destroying whatever the house-elves had fixed the night before. He went from room to room, upending tables, tearing curtains, ripping apart books.

Each day he reigned over his realm of self-destruction, and each day he paused before one door. He would walk up to it, determination draining from him with every step. Some days he would simply stare at it, and then move on, leaving it untouched. But other days he would let his hand rest on the doorknob, his forehead pressing against the cool wood, and let his memories take him away.

“Honestly Draco, I don’t understand why we can’t just put my study with yours. It’d be much simpler.”

“Because, Granger. Your workspace is absolutely filthy, and I don’t want that mess bleeding onto my side.”

Hermione scoffed, indignant. “It is not filthy.”

Draco stared at her, his hand resting on the doorknob to the room that would henceforth be known as Hermione’s study. “Ignorance is not a good look on you Granger,” he stated simply, opening the door and slipping through before Hermione could throw one of the numerous books overflowing in her arms at him.

She shuffled in after him, a retort that was poised and ready on her lips dying as soon as she saw the room. “Merlin’s beard,” she breathed out, turning in a wide circle.

A mahogany desk sat against one of the walls, a large ornate office chair seated behind it. On the desk sat a nameplate, perched towards the edge and accompanied by fabulously extravagant bookends. Parallel to the desk was an entire wall fitted with four wondrously large bookcases, two of which had already been filled with research books, journals, and memoirs that had previously been in the Malfoy library. Illuminating the entire room was a wall filled top to bottom with windows. Enchanted ivy climbed them from the outside, and multiple house plants hung and floated around the windows. Assorted chairs, benches, and even a couch decorated the remainder of the study, all enchanted to immediately conform to the users body.

Draco would never admit it to her, but he had taken weeks out of his schedule to personally design the study. He had haggled with construction workers over the prices of installation, and had even acquired his mothers help in absolving some of the blood curses placed upon the books that now filled the room.

“Do you like it?” he asked cautiously, hands clasped tightly behind his back in order to hide the nervous twisting of his fingers. His eyes bounced between her eyes, to her hands, to the books about to fall from her arms, and then back to the look of awe on her face. He would do anything in his power to make sure that she always looked as wonderfully happy as she did right now.

“Do I like it? Draco, its stunning!” She replied, a soft, incredulous laugh slipping from her lips.

He nodded his head, looking around the room. “It’s alright.”

She looked back at him, a bright smile lighting up her eyes. “Thank you, truly.”

His heart skipped a beat. His hands stopped twisting. A smile snuck its way onto his face despite his better judgement. “You’re welcome.”

“Draco, darling?” Narcissa called, her hand placed delicately on the staircase railing. “Are you alright?”

Draco’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing and his lips turning into a snarl at the realization that he was interrupted once more. His hand left the door, and he turned sharply on his heel, walking swiftly past his mother in a swirl of black cloaks. “Perfectly adequate,” he replied with a sneer, returning with vigor to his previous path of destruction.

Narcissa sighed, her eyes looking forlornly towards the study. In the background she heard a crash echoing out from the living area. She flinched, hand inches away from the handle, and moved on.

~~~

Draco paced the halls of the manor like a caged animal. He walked, up and down, left and right, until he had patrolled the entirety of the manor over 20 times. Then he moved outside.

His feet slowed, ever so slightly. His breathing evened. And the feeling of an unknown pressure against his chest lifted, just a little. Here, he was free from the endless onslaught of memories. Here, he could relax and relent under the night sky.

His feet led him to the maze that decorated a small portion of the yard, his hands outstretched and brushing against the hedges as he passed them. He inhaled, deep and pure, and let his body carry him to the center of the maze.

There was a small stone bench in the middle, weathered from years of sitting stationary upon the ground. A pond bubbled nearby, magical fish of every variety content to swim in its waters.

Draco sat down on the bench, the tension leaving his body as he tilted his head up to look at the stars that littered the heavens. He closed his eyes, a soft smile perched treacherously on his lips. And then his heart twinged with a memory, and his peace was ruined.

“Draco keep up! You’re going to miss it!” Hermione called out, already yards in front of Draco as she ran frantically through the maze.

“Really Granger, is it that important?” Draco called back, feeling a laugh bubbling to the surface as he watched Hermione get swatted by an overgrown hedge.

“Oh just come on you twat!” She replied, a laugh slipping from her lips as well.

Draco turned the final corner, a goofy grin chiseled onto his face as he took in the scene before him.

Hermione had a muggle telescope set up to the side on the bench, already pointed at the sky and calibrated correctly. Astrology books lay strewn haphazardly around the mini safe haven, and a blanket was laid across the grass no more than a few feet away. She stood behind the telescope, bent at the knees as she peered through it.

She glanced up, her smile returning as she saw Draco. She waved him over to the telescope, excitement seeming to exude from her very being. “Well come on!”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Draco sauntered over, walking as slow as humanly possible.

Hermione, seeing this, waved her arms in exasperation and ran behind him, placing her hands on his back in an attempt to push him forwards. “You absolute prat!”

A deep, low chuckle escaped Malfoy’s mouth as he turned his head to look at her. “Why Granger, whatever do you mean? I’m walking as fast as I can!” He placed one of his hands on his chest and looked at her, appalled. “Are you claiming me to be a dishonest man?” he asked, incredulous.

“Well, I’m certainly not calling you an honest one!” she retorted, still hopelessly attempting to push Draco closer to the telescope.

He laughed again, relenting and continuing willingly towards the contraption. He hummed, contemplating his actions before bending down and peering through the eyeglass. “I don’t see what the excitement is about, honestly. It’s just the sky. We’ve seen it hundreds of times in - oh.” Draco’s thought was cut short as the stars began to rain down, trails of wispy ethereal light painting the inky blackness of the sky in their wonder. He moved away from the telescope, his head instead tilting up to look at the sky without the object’s assistance.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hermione breathed out, her eyes trained on the sky as well.

Draco looked over at her, his heart beating erratically against his chest as a soft smile creeped onto his face. He watched as the heavens fell in her eyes, as her beauty built cities in his mind and tore down any deities previously known to man. He watched, helplessly, hopelessly, as he fell for her. Mind, body, and soul. “Yeah,” he breathed out, hands itching to intertwine themselves with hers as he watched her face light up. “It is.”

Draco opened his eyes, once again staring up at the stars that littered the heavens. He felt a now familiar ache return to his chest as tears began to blur his vision.

“You always were able to see the beauty in everything,” he whispered to himself, eyes wandering down to the corner of the stone bench. His hands ghosted over the initials carved there only weeks before. H.G. Hermione Granger. “Even in a monster.”

He felt a stray tear begin to slide down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away, standing abruptly and walking towards the exit of the maze. Before he left, however, he turned. Gazing upon the place that had been so painful for him to exist in. Without a second thought, he lifted his wand, eyes staring at the cursed stone bench as he set the haven on fire.

He saw his mother run out of the mansion moments later, collapsing to her knees as she saw the destruction that her son had wrought, saw his true nature. He walked past her, pausing just behind her, and turned his head. She looked back at him, tears in her eyes along with an emotion that caused Draco to grit his teeth in anger. Pity.

He didn’t want, nor did he need his mother’s pity. He turned sharply, walking back into the darkened mansion and slamming the door behind him. Let her watch the wretched garden burn. Let her inhale the ash with every cry, and scream for the house elves as she desperately tried to put out the flames that he had created. He was done receiving her pity. And he was done avoiding his own.

With his anger rising and his emotions high, Draco stalked up to the study that he had avoided for so long. A concentration of magic that Draco hadn’t even known existed within him burst towards the door in his high emotional state and knocked it off its hinges. Without a second thought, Draco stepped into the room.

His mind went blank. His eyes took in the room, a thin layer of dust covering the objects. He saw photographs of him and Hermione decorating the walls, pictures of her parents, the plants that she had meticulously cultivated for so long in order to test their in a new sleeping drought. His eyes roamed over the bookcases, overflowing with double and sometimes triple stacked books, scraps of parchment sticking up from where she had found something of note in her research. Quills were set about in no particular order in the room, essentially guaranteeing that she would be able to have one handy at all times, just in case.

Draco inhaled, and his face crumpled. It still smelled like her.

The intoxicating scent of honeysuckle and cedar that he had come to know so well was stuck in the room, circulating over and over with nowhere to go. It filled his senses, overwhelming his mind and making everything else . . .muddled. He tried to take a step backwards, but his legs were weak. He stumbled.

His eyes slid over to her desk, and his breath caught in his throat.

A letter was perched on the edge of it, caught in between the two bookends that he had gifted her long ago. His name was written on the front in her messy handwriting. Hesitantly, he reached out towards it, his fingers smoothing back the folds in the envelope as he stared at it. Had this letter been here for him this whole time?

He flipped it over and was face to face with the glaringly red seal on the envelope. He dropped it.

Draco looked down at her body, convulsing on the floor. Red bloomed on her stomach, spiraling and twisting in intricate patterns as it soaked through her clothes. He had said many times that Hermione looked ravishing in red, but not this kind of red. This red was hot, and dark, and sticky. This red drained the color from her face every time it grew more vibrant.

He rushed over to her, falling to his knees and sitting in the puddle of her blood that had harrowed him so. His mind was racing, or was it numb? He couldn’t tell. He pulled out his wand and hoarsely spoke a healing spell. “Vulnera Senentur.” Nothing happened. Frantic, Draco tried it again, his voice stronger now. “Vulnera Senentur!” Nothing.

Hermione weakly opened her eyes, moving her lips in an attempt to speak.

“Shh,” Draco hushed her. “Save your strength Granger. You’ll be at St. Mungo's in no time.” His thumb caressed her cheek as he turned his head towards the door, calling for his house elf. “Winky! Winky I need you!”

Desperation filled his being. He couldn’t apparate her, or he would run the risk of splinching her. None of his healing spells or diagnostic checks were working. He didn’t know what to do.

Hermione raised her hand, wincing as she placed it on one of his arms. Her mouth moved again, and a hoarse whisper of his name escaped.

He looked back over at her, leaning his head down and touching his forehead to hers. “It’s okay Hermione, it’s going to be okay. Can you tell me what hurt you?” He shifted his weight, slowly and cautiously dragging her body into his lap. One of his hands ran over the cut in her stomach, and he grimaced.

“Draco. .” she whispered again, her hand moving steadily up his arm until she was able to cup his face. Her lips curved up in a small smile and she dragged her thumb over his cheek.

He leaned into her touch, looking down at her with hot, angry tears in his eyes. “Don’t you dare say it Granger. Don’t you dare say goodbye.”

“We both. .” she inhaled sharply, and it sounded wet and coarse. The cough that followed caused a small splatter of blood to find purchase on his shirt. “We both know that I’m not getting out of this alive.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, his voice wavering as his own hand reached up to wipe the blood off of her chin. He cleared his throat, hands shaking as he gingerly held her face. “You’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this. Bloody hell, you had Potter and Weasley for friends, the amount of pure chaos that follows those two should have gotten to you long ago.”

She laughed, her face growing paler by the second. “I’ve always been curious,” another deep, shuddering breath, “you know? I mean, this is the one question that I’ve never been able to answer.” She paused, and it almost looked as though she was staring past Draco and up at the ceiling. Her eyes were unfocused, her hand fell slightly on his face.

He brought his other hand up to hers and held it against his cheek, knowing what she wanted, and knowing what she deserved. She deserved an answer that would make her happy, that would make her peaceful. She deserved an answer that held just as many mysteries as the question, and one that was just as fantastical as the world she had been brought into.

“I. .” his voice caught, and he cleared his throat again, tears falling from his eyes. “I always liked to think that we never actually die. That our magic just gets passed on to some new witch or wizard. Someone like us.”

Her eyes focused back on his face, and her smile seemed content now. “I’d like that,” she said. Her voice was weak. Her breathing was shallow. Her hands and face were growing cold to his touch. “Maybe,” another wet cough shook her body. “Maybe our magic can find each other again. Like soulmates.” Her smile was shaky, and her eyes were beginning to shine with tears.

“Draco,” Hermione said, her thumb weakly running over his bottom lip. “Thank you for showing me what it’s like to be loved.”

And then she was gone.

Her body went limp. Her hand fell from his face. Her eyes, once filled with an undeniable brightness and eagerness to learn and solve and question, were dull and void.

“Hermione?” Draco called out, his voice breaking. His hands were shaking. He was frantically running them over her face, her hands, trying to elicit some sort of response from her.

“No... no no no no.” Tears were streaming down his face as he picked up the wand that he had discarded earlier on the floor. He dropped it twice before he was able to properly hold it, and even then, his hands were shaking too much to perform the wand work required for the diagnostic spell.

Frustrated, he threw it across the room and gathered her body in his arms. He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers, willing for her to open her eyes and lecture him over the proper way to stir a wolfsbane potion, or to hit him and call him insufferable. To do anything.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please I . . I can’t . . I don’t know what to do without you.”

Draco hadn’t realized it then, but he knew it now.

When Hermione had died, he’d died with her.

He looked down at the letter on the floor beneath his feet, and stooped down to pick it up. He flipped it over in his hands, looking once more at the bright red seal. The image of Hermione, on the ground, covered in her own blood came back to him, and he closed his eyes, gripping the letter in his hands like a lifeline.

Even if it hurt him. Even if it somehow caused him more pain than he was already feeling, he had to know what she had written to him.

Carefully, he opened the letter and unfolded the parchment, his eyes watering as he scanned the page.

My heart,

I had hoped that you would never receive this letter, and never have to feel the pain that you are going through right now, but alas, it seems inevitable.

I suppose that I should explain what this is, though I would wager that you have already guessed. Upon my death, however likely or unlikely, I had arranged for a letter to be sent to you. I updated the letter weekly, of course, to keep things recent and up to date. However, lately, I have been writing a letter to you every day.

It’s not necessary, in fact it’s far from that. It’s . . well I suppose it’s simply because I don’t entirely know how to fit everything into one letter. If you wish to read them, they should be stashed in the top left drawer of my desk.

On to the main purpose of this letter. To put it simply, I love you.

I’m not exactly sure when it happened if I’m being honest. Whether my affections began when we were forced to work together for a project in the Ministry, or when you had somehow memorized my caffeine schedule so thoroughly that it no longer surprised me when you brought me my morning coffee. But it happened.

I imagine that this is of no shock to you, considering that we are currently engaged, but I also know that you don’t hear the words enough. And I know that you doubt, every day, whether or not I will finally ‘come to my senses’ as you have put it before, and leave you for something or someone else.

If it wasn’t already evident, let me put it more clearly. I am yours, Draco Malfoy. Body and soul. I have been and always will be. I love you more than you will ever know, and more than I would ever care to admit.

And if I know you well enough, which I do, I know that you are blaming yourself for whatever has happened to me. Please, for your mother’s sake, mine, and your own, don’t. Know that I could never, ever, blame you for anything that has happened to me.

You are the one mystery in my life that I will never get bored of, the one puzzle piece that finally completes me, the one constant that I never want to change.

I can guarantee you. In my last few moments, all I will think about is you and the happiness that you have brought me. I will relive our first kiss, and your proposal. I will relive the day that I moved into the Manor, and that tea that I had with your mother where she showed me your baby photos.

And if I am so lucky, you will be there with me. And I will get to see you one last time. I will get to memorize every feature of your face, and your temperamental eyes. I’ll be able to run my hands over that scar on your bottom lip, and tell you how much you mean to me.

But most of all, I want you to learn how to be happy again. I want you to smile when you remember me, and correct my work when you go through my research. I want to be remembered as I am.

All my love, and so much more,

Hermione

Draco smiled weakly as he finished the letter, his legs finally giving out as he collapsed onto the floor.

He heard footsteps behind him, and moments later his mother’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. “It’s like she never left . .” she murmured, tears falling down her cheeks.

He looked up at the study once more, taking in the piles upon piles of research and notes and musings that covered the room. There, in that moment, in that place, he swore he could hear Hermione laugh at something snarky that he had said, and feel her hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think she ever will.”

.

.

Add yourself to my taglist!

[chandelier-s-notebook]

Doodlewash April 2021 prompt 20: Roses

Songfic using Black Roses by Aviators.

The color black has often been synonymous with death and mourning and is usually used at funerals. But black roses do have a more positive meaning as well. They can stand for the beginning of new things and major change.

Reminder 93-10-01 = Tommy 83-11-03 = Hannahxxrose 93-08-02 = CupToast/Crumb 66-16-01 = Plushys 09-10-01 = Purpled

If anyone wants to be part of a taglist of the Vigilante AU, feel free to message me/send an ask/or mention it in reblogs.

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We are husks

Plushys had been trapped in the warehouse on 1889 Coral Lane, not that she knew where she was, for eight months now. When she was taken it no one took her nail file off of her person. She hid it in her hair when she was forced to change into the warehouse uniform.

She got two meals a day, and she started a tally on the wall. At every other meal, another tally was put on the wall with her nail file.

But the tallies were very much racking up. She was tried. She wanted to go home.

After five months she was given a cellmate; 83-11-03, Hannah Rose. Hannah was a street rat. She grew up fighting for her place in the world. She clawed her way to get what she had; only for it to be ripped away by a group of men and a white van.

After Plushys made her new tally on Hannah’s first day she offered the girl the nail file. Hannah made her first mark, and settled in for the long run.

Plushys and Hannah were placed in the same fighting ability category. They’ve been pitted against each other a few times.

The people in charge of the fighting ring have a few wants. They make money by keeping the bettors as patrons. And the way to do that is to have a suspenseful fight. Plushys and Hannah deliver on the wants of the criminals.

Hannah was a street rat. Plushys was the twin sister of a vigilante. They knew how to fight. They knew how to make an event.

They had learned how to riff off each other. They could fight to the brink of the end only to comeback down in a way that was satisfying for the audience and kept up the suspense. They did this for a few reasons: one, they didn’t want to hurt each other; two, they needed to keep the criminals happy; three, the longer they went on for, the more time the other kids could rest up and get in the mindset; and four, it was a little fun when neither party cared too much.

“66-16-01 v. 83-11-03!”

Plushys caught 5up’s eye in the crown. “Please get us out of here,” her eyes begged.

Hannah threw the first punch. She was so ready to get out of here.

Alive but barely breathing

Crumb was not okay. She just wasn’t. She may have been born in District 93 but she was privileged by their standards. She had a loving mother and father and a stable live. She wasn’t built for fighting.

The only thing keeping her afloat and winning was her fear instincts driving her. And a few lessons by Hannah and Tommy during whatever downtime they could squeeze out.

If she doesn’t fight, her opponent was going to break her; literally.

Just because she could didn’t mean she liked it. She was forever grateful that Hannah and her cellmate 66-16-01 took forever to finish up. It gave her time to collect herself and to hind in her mind palace. She could hide away and repress the memories once all this was over.

Hannah suggested it to her. Tommy cautioned that one day the walls would fall and the memories would hit her like a freight train.

Crumb didn’t have the capacity; she was already going through so much trauma. What was a little more after the fact?

Sure she trusted them with her life, but she wanted her parents to help her feel completely safe to break.

The gong sounded. Hannah had 66-16-01 in a chokehold and the latter had tapped out. Crumb should really learn her name.

“And next to the mat 93-08-02 v. 87-08-01!”

Hannah offered 66-16-01 her hand. She ruffled Crumb’s hair in a comforting way as they passed.

The two eight year old girls bowed to each other; shaking, the both of them. “Meri.”

“Crumb.”

Crumb was not okay. But she had to be. She had to keep going.

Sometimes we pull ourselves together

If Hannah and Plushys’ version of rebellion was to play with their food and drag their fights out for just shy of too long. Then Tommy’s act of defiance was beating his opponents in as little time as possible. Even that one time he was given a fight against eight people, he was done with them all in about five minutes.

That year Tommy spent living in alleyways really helped here.

He rolled his shoulders up straight in the ring, six moaning bodies on the floor, bruises forming on his skin. The others looking much worse than he did.

He was honestly surprised that none of them were bleeding. Wasn’t that a pleasant thought?

He stood there, breathing heavy, for a moment. An uncomfortably long moment. Like they were waiting to see is any of his opponents was going to get up and fight back.

The gong sounded.

Tommy stared defiantly at the audience, unblinking, as aids put the six other kids on stretchers and got them medical attention.

“93-10-01 wins another match.”

But our efforts fade away

With every trip to the Warehouse on 1889 Coral Lane for intel, 5up hates his father more and more.

That man saw no problem with whatever was going on here.

In fact, now that he was going to the fights with his father, the man was paying more attention to him than he had in years. 5up hated it. He hated everything about this.

At least he now knew for sure what kind of person he needed to be to get his father’s approval. A guide on what not to do.

5up stared back at 93-10-01. This kid. This kid. He had so much spirit, and he was using it to fuel his rage.

5up could tell that 93-10-01 was tried. That he wanted to go home. Soon.

Soon. They were in the final stages of planning. They had a big enough team. They’d only need to hold out a little longer.

“93-10-01 wins another match.”

5up half-raised his hand, signaling he would be cashing out.

93-10-01 turned his head away and walked off.

We are dust

Plushys, Hannah, Tommy, and Crumb sat together in the children’s canteen.

“I hate him,” Tommy said.

“Who?”

“Mr. Nicchi Jr.”

“Give him time,” Pushys said. “This is a big job.”

“I know.” Tommy look at Crumb. He put some of his greens onto her place. “I don’t know how much longer we can hold you though.”

“I know.”

“And he’s a bettor.”

“He has too,” Plushys said. “It’s his cover. He can’t come in here and just demand they let everybody go. It’ll be more intense than that.”

“I know.”

“I promise he’s a vigilante.”

Tommy swallowed his food. He glanced at Hannah out the corner of his eye. “I trust you.” He took another bite. “I have too.”

Plushys looked around the canteen. She stabbed her fork into a softened carrot and held it above her head. “A toast. To eight months.”

Tommy raised a fork as well. “To three.”

Crumbling by the moment

“To three.” Hannah raised her fork and carrot as well. She ate the steamed vegetable and went back to longingly looking around.

Her spirit was falling.

But it shouldn’t be.

She was a street rat. She knew how to do this. She knew how to fight and she knew how to win.

She was very close to breaking down and lashing out, but that didn’t go well for the last kid that did that.

Hannah was tried. She felt dead. She didn’t want to do this anymore. She wants to leave, but she can’t.

Even if the door is right there.

The door outside was right next to her and Plushys’ cell. They had a nail file. They could break the bars.

But she can’t leave everyone else behind.

We try to push away the ending

“93-10-01.”

“What?”

The guard gestured to the food tray in front of Tommy.

“Right.” Tommy stood up. “I’ll see you guys next time.”

“Bye Tommy.”

“Just hold on a little longer.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Tommy grabbed another tray for Purpled and made his way down to room 322.

“Hey.”

Purpled grunted.

“I do not understand why they have this gag on you.”

Purpled shrugged. He jokingly try to bite Tommy three seconds later though.

“Hey. Without me you wouldn’t eat.”

Purpled gasped. “You would never do that to me would you?”

This was nice; both of them pretend that they aren’t kidnapping children and just two bros hanging out. Ignoring that Tommy was fork feeding Purpled food, as they still had him chained up.

“So when are you breaking us out?” Purpled asks.

“What? Where did that came from?”

“Seems like something you’d do.”

“I mean yeah.” Tommy looked down at the food. He lowered his voice, “Someone’s coming to help us.”

“I hope so.” Purpled looked away from Tommy’s fork. “Punz will come for me.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said distractedly. He honestly didn’t know if he should tell Purpled that there was a group of vigilantes coming to get them, the heroes. He was a posh upper ten boy, what would be think? ”Purpled? What do you think about vigilantes?”

Purpled took a bite of his food and thought about it while he chewed. “Vigilantes are unregulated menaces that try to do good.” Purpled tipped his head forward. “They do good. They do good, I know that.”

“You know that? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve seen the records. Heroes have notes on every problem creator – that they know of. But there are different categories between vigilantes and dipshits.”

“Dipshits?”

“Well that’s not what they’re called in the system. It’s more formal. But, like. vigilantes create problems for heroes, and dipshits create problems for vigilantes. Those guys can’t really be called really villains can they?”

“No. No they aren’t. Usually just the local robber.”

Purpled laughed. “The local robber?”

“Yeah. That’s a thing that exists in the lower districts.”

“You ever seen a local robber?”

“Sure. Had to hide behind a few shelves at the grocery store. Dude had a gun.”

“What the hell?”

“Just because District 9 is little crime free doesn’t mean the rest of us get that.”

“What the hell?”

“People gotta do what they gotta do.”

“And that doesn’t get reported?”

“Purpled if every single crime was reported to Hero HQ the whole system would collapse in on its self because of how many things they would have to deal with.”

“But-“

“Purpled. Vigilantes keep us safe.”

“Heroes keep us crime free,” Pured countered.

“And poverty keeps me the local thief in my area.”

“You’re what? Don’t vigilantes get called on you?”

“Nah. I’m just a kid. I don’t need much and I’m not messy about it. There are so many other kids doing that as well. They don’t really care.”

“What does that mean?”

“Literally all the food stalls just give out extra produce that’s going to go bad at the end of the day so they don’t have to worry about thieves during the day.”

“What?” Purpled’s mind was exploding the more Tommy told him about how he lived.

“Loose the same amount of coins but there’s no crime going on. And the food is already almost bad anyways so it’s going to get thrown out.”

“Why would you give out rotting food to children?”

“They don’t give out rotting food!” Tommy defended. “People just don’t buy the strawberry’s that are four days old when fresh ones are right there on the table. And even if the food is almost going bad, it’s going to get eaten that night so it doesn’t really matter.”

Purpled opened the closed his mouth a couple times. “I hope Captain comes for me.”

“Captain?” Tommy offered Purpled another bite of his dinner.

“Captain Sparklez? Lives in District 87?”

“Oh that guy. He helps vigilantes sometimes I’ve heard. He’s probably coming.”

“It’s going to be a group of vigilantes isn’t it? Punz isn’t coming for me?”

Tommy decided that honestly was the best policy. “I don’t know.”

And black roses fall the same

Hannah and Plushys both added another tally to their calendars.

Hannah started to file away at the bars on the cell wall. It might be helpful when they were finally able to get out of here.

Hannah looked at the black roses growing through the cracks in their exterior wall.

“We’re getting out of here.”

“We will be free,” Plushys added.

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