#not a meme in fucking tired and ache everywhere

[kathlare]

the heart's echo

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando spends time with his best friend, Max, at a MotoGP event, where Max notices Lando’s lingering attachment to Amelie through her social media posts.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

August 6th, 2023 - Northamptonshire, United Kingdom

The warm British summer air was buzzing with energy, filled with the hum of engines revving and the chatter of excited fans at Silverstone’s MotoGP weekend. Lando Norris had been attending the event with his best friend, Max Fewtrell, who had been as much a part of Lando's racing journey as anyone else. Max was a solid rock in his life—honest, blunt, and always willing to poke fun when the situation called for it.

They were sitting in a VIP lounge, watching the pre-race activities unfold, when Max caught a glimpse of Lando's phone screen. Lando didn’t notice at first, too distracted by the noise in the room, the chatter of other people, and his own wandering thoughts. But Max did. And what he saw wasn’t the usual stream of racing news or memes.

It was Amelie.

Her Instagram feed was front and center, the familiar sight of her vibrant posts catching Lando’s eye. He was scrolling through her latest photos from her concerts. Each post was meticulously curated—an artist’s passion reflected in every image. But Lando wasn’t just scrolling through her feed out of idle curiosity. There was something more there, a quiet ache behind his eyes as he tapped through every post.

Max raised an eyebrow, leaning over to peer at Lando’s screen. —Mate,— he said with a smirk, —are you actually stalking her right now?—

Lando froze, his thumb pausing mid-scroll. He looked at Max, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his lips. —No. Just… just looking at her posts. They’re, you know, everywhere. She’s doing well.—

Max leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. —Sure. Whatever you say, mate.— He leaned in closer, his voice dropping in mock seriousness, —Is this the part where you tell me you’ve totally moved on?—

Lando sighed, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his phone into his pocket. —Stop, Max.—

—Mate, come on, I know you better than that,— Max teased, nudging Lando with his shoulder. —You’re still hung up on her, aren’t you?—

Lando opened his mouth to deny it but stopped himself. The truth hung in the air like a thick fog, and for the first time in a long while, Lando let himself admit it. —Yeah… I guess I am.—

Max didn’t hesitate. —You’re still in love with her, Lando.—

The words hit harder than Lando had expected. He’d been running from the thought for months, burying it under the distractions of racing, relationships, and whatever bullshit he could get lost in. But hearing it out loud—he couldn’t deny it. There it was.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. —I don’t know, Max. I mean... it’s been a fucking long time. We haven’t talked in over a year.—

Max leaned back, considering it for a moment. —So? Does that mean you just forget everything? You and Amelie were good, mate. I’ve seen it myself. Even after all the drama, I don’t think you’ve really moved on. But you’ve been pretending to.—

Lando’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to think about it, but Max was right. He’d buried that part of himself, pretending it didn’t matter while casually seeing Magui Corceiro. Sure, it was easy, no strings attached. But every time he saw Amelie’s face—every time he saw how happy she was, living her dream—it felt like a punch to the gut.

—Why did you have to go and bring her up again?— Lando muttered, his voice quieter now, as if he were speaking more to himself than Max.

—Because it’s obvious, mate,— Max replied. —You’re still carrying a torch for her. I know you, Lando.—

Lando leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen in front of him, the lights and sounds of Silverstone almost blurring into the background. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to feel it. But he was getting tired of pretending.

—I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix it, Max. I messed up. I fucked everything up when we were together. It wasn’t just the distance or the fact that I got caught up with other people... it was me. I was stupid. And now... now, she’s living her dream. She’s got everything she ever wanted. And I’m still sitting here, like a dumbass, thinking about what could’ve been.—

Max’s tone shifted, no longer teasing but serious. —Maybe it’s not too late, Lando. Maybe you need to stop pretending and go for it. Go fix things with her. You’re the one holding back. You keep telling yourself she’s moved on, that she doesn’t care anymore. But you don’t know that. You haven’t even tried.—

Lando ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his eyes. —Max, I’m not some fucking idiot. You don’t know her like I do. You don’t know what we’ve been through. I don’t think she’s gonna want to even look at me after everything that happened. It’s been too long, too much time has passed.—

—You’re right,— Max said, his voice softening. —It’s been a while. But does that mean you should just give up? Because, let me tell you something, Lando. If you don’t do something about this, if you keep pretending it doesn’t matter... you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.—

Lando swallowed hard, a knot tightening in his stomach. It was hard to admit, but Max was right. There was a part of him that had always believed they’d find a way back to each other. But it felt like an impossible dream now. Amelie had moved on. Hell, he’d moved on. Sort of.

—I’m not sure, man. I’m pretty fucking sure that if I went to her now and told her I wanted to try again, she’d just laugh in my face,— Lando said, the bitterness creeping into his words. —She’s got a life now. She’s got everything she ever wanted. And I’ve got... what? A situationship with someone I don’t even care about? Yeah. That sounds great.—

Max leaned forward, looking at Lando with a serious expression. —Mate, you’ve got to stop making excuses. You know how much she cared about you. And if you still care about her, then you’ve got to give it a shot. You’ll never know unless you try.—

Lando’s chest felt tight, the weight of Max’s words sitting heavily on him. Was he really ready to face that? To confront his past mistakes and ask Amelie for a second chance? Or would she just reject him? Laugh at him?

—I don’t know,— Lando muttered, more to himself than to Max. —I don’t think I can handle getting rejected again. Not by her.—

Max didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between them. Finally, he clapped Lando on the back. —Well, mate, you’re gonna have to decide sooner or later. Because if you don’t, you’re just going to keep lying to yourself. And deep down, I think you know the truth. You still want her.—

Lando exhaled slowly, his mind spinning with all the possibilities. —Yeah. I still want her,— he whispered, the realization hitting him with full force.

Max nodded, leaning back in his chair. —Then go after her. Don’t waste any more time.—

Lando sat in silence, staring off into the distance. Max’s words echoed in his head, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to think about Amelie—not just as the girl he used to be with, but as someone he might still want in his life.

The future was uncertain. But one thing was clear: he couldn’t keep running from his feelings.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to face them.

[wystericwoes]

Just rewatched JJK and my god the things nanami made me FEEL. My brain immediately started to think about how he would be in a relationship and I’m currently sobbing in the dark right now, I’m so in love with this man

SFW and NSFW

SFW:

Nothing just…

Gentleman treatment that he thinks is normal and doesn’t understand why you’re so obsessed with it. He ties your shoes for you, he gets you fresh flowers but always keeps one in for himself so he can see when they wilt to get you new ones <333. One of his love languages is cooking and you’ll never get over the way he always wants you try out new dishes he made for you. When he gets you trinkets everywhere he goes that remind him of you, or when he remembers all the things you say. He really thinks it’s all the bare minimum buy you still melt.

Long talks at night when both of you are tired but just can’t go to sleep because you just keep the conversation going.

He does things that he doesn’t understand why you like you just do because he knows it makes you happy <3 Like pictures of his hands and rolling up his sleeves halfway when he cooks. Or your weird obsession with sweatpants and compression shirts.

He entertains all your obsessions and quirks and never makes fun of you. You want that $70 dollar squishmallow? Goddamit you’re getting it. Even when you insist he shouldn’t and it was just a thing you thought of

“Why? Because it makes you happy.”

Nanami coming home from overtime late at night seeing you all curled up in bed. You’re wearing one of his shirts and his heart aches at how cute you are, little moments like these makes him just fall in love with you as he sees your rhythmic breathing and slips into bed, you’re asleep but you just wrap your arms around him instinctively.

He doesn’t always understand your humor or your tastes but he doesn’t care. When he sees you smile he smiles. Even if he has no idea what a “bombastic side eye” is.

When he does put in an effort to learn slang and gen-z humor he’s always somehow four years behind.

“Would this constitute as, ‘spilling the tea’? He just randomly said one day as you were ranting about work or something.

You almost choke on your own spit from laughing and he didn’t realize that it was that funny. You didn’t have it in your heart to explain to him that no one uses that anymore, and you instead tell him how proud of him you are. Or sometimes he’ll show you a minion meme on Facebook and you laugh at how silly he is sometimes trying. He still to this day seeks those things out thinking you laugh because the meme itself is funny, because all he looks for is what makes you laugh and smile.

He says things that are actually funny so casually you never even notice right away until you think about it after a second. His sheer sarcasm and wit never ceases to entertain you and challenge you endlessly.

NSFW:

Not once did he ever make an advancement on you without you either saying you wanted it or doing it first. Now, everytime you mention this he always insists that this is what everyone should do, and he quirks a brow as you somehow have gotten even more hot and bothered by his communication. He’s such a gentleman at heart he forgets how many other men don’t do the same.

The thing about him is that he’s just so hot without even trying.

You’re on his lap in a mostly dark room with nothing but candlelight, you’ve just had an amazing make out session, his tie is loose, his hair is ruffled, and his face is hot. As much as he wants to do to you he still whispers in your ear asking what you want. And with the heat of the moment, his deep voice and staggered breaths just absolutely pushes you over the edge. You don’t know how to tell him all the absolute pure sinful filth that he makes you think without even trying. To him he’s just asking a question.

Or sometimes in the opposite sense, he accidentally dirty talks his way into your bed with his honesty.

“I’ve thought about fucking you in my office for a while now...”

He said with a finger under his chin. He just said it so casually one night during a normal conversation.

He’s so blissfully ignorant to the effect that he has over you. that’s a curse and blessing.

It leads to him not understanding why you’re suddenly turned on when all he was doing was folding laundry, or when he stretched in his chair and then that led to you to fucking in the bathroom. Other times it’s hilarious seeing him so confused as to how you could possibly be so into him.

He’s excellent at taking his time with you. Your needs come first, even if you don’t know what you want he’ll always figure it out to give you the best of himself he can offer.

The idea of someone being interested into him wasn’t new, but the realization that you were sexually attracted to him just by existing was completely new.

His endurance is insane. It’s usually whenever you’re done. Because hardly ever could he be brought to the point of quitting

The amount of self control he has to exude when he’s with you is absolutely wild. You never knew until one night during he was really focused and agitated for some reason. You were cockwarming him, and for the longest time you thought that he was infinitely patient, that nothing you could’ve done would have ever made him crazy.

You were so desperate and were writing around him trying to feel just the slightest bit of movement. You involuntarily clench around him and you start to hear him take a sharp inhale everytime you do, you got curious and trekked into dangerous waters of seeing how much you could tease him. He was working on paperwork, the sound of his pen would stop and then go back into writing again everytime you moved or twitched. This had been going on for what felt like hours… you had insisted on joining him at work because you missed him too much. He agreed under the condition that you didn’t distract him.

He knew deep down that it wouldn’t have worked out anyway. But he kept cutting corners for you.

“Fine. one kiss.”

“You can sit on me but you have to be quiet.”

“Only if you don’t move.”

You became a whimpering desperate mess. You didn’t care about the agreement anymore he was taking forever!

You had your nails digging to the back of his neck, other hand on his shoulder trying to keep yourself quiet as you kept whimpering into his ear

You were starting to think he didn’t care at all until one particular clench and you heard a clean snap becauee he had broken his pen in his hand.

His other hand flew to your hips and grabbed on with a brutal force that happened so sudden you jumped

He rested his forehead on your shoulder and took a deep breath in.

So you did have an affect on him after all…

Feeling him lose control made you only more horny. You wondered how far you could push him before you heard his fist slam down on the table and he mumbled into your ear

“I asked you to not move.”

You muttered out a quiet sorry, you just couldn’t control yourself sitting around him like this. The curve of his dick just hit you so perfectly.

“Why won’t you fuck me?”

You had moaned into his ear

“Is that what you want?”

Fucking obviously! You shifted your hips against his one more time as he increased his grip on your hip with a bruising force making you let out an involuntary moan.

“You were so quiet I thought you didn’t want to..”

He looked into your eyes, lifting up his glasses

“Of course I do.”

“You didn’t show it.”

Both your breaths were hitched, you were giving him these “fuck me” eyes and it took every ounce of restraint within him not to do what he wanted.

He let out another strong exhale

“It takes me everything I have to not lose control with you.”

Fuck you were so horny right now you couldn’t even think right. His sudden assertiveness and desperation, the way you had been ready for him for so long and you just had to sit there, his hands, everything.

“Why do you hold yourself back?”

“I have to know you want it first.”

“I do!” You whined at him

“Are you sure?” He gave you a pleading look.

“Yes! Please, please ‘nami…”

You buried your face in his neck

The last thing you remembered clearly was him muttering “fuck” under his breath.

[duchi-nesten]

...ship meme? oh well, you know.... you know who I'd ask for...

ah yes the vlads and the jacks. the vlad and jacks i jusr realized i dont ....what is the ship name for them???

-

Vlad was tired.

He was out in the Ghost Zone for the last 3 days, searching for some ancient ghostly artefact or whatever it is a lonely old man in his 40s does in the world of the undead.

This thing he was looking for was definetly an important one.

For sure.

That's why he took 3 days off of mayor work just for this. (not like anyone would notice him gone. he didn't really do much mayor stuff tbh)

Unfortunetly, his trip was for naught. He didn't find the thing. He spent 3 fucking days in this green tinted fuckery of a world and found nothing (embarrassing)

SO YEAH. He was TIRED.

At last he finally reached the portal to his lab. Stepping inside he barely spared a glance towars the mess of papers he found about the artifact laying all around his lab. Every single one of them a reminder of his unsuccsesful endeavour.

He sighed loudly to himself and phased thru the ceiling up to his library. There was an even bigger mess there. Even more papers about the artifact.

He rubbed his temples annoyed as he transformed back. And fucking good thing he did, because the moment those post-transformation black rings disappeared Jack McFucking Fenton blasted his fucking library wall down.

"DON'T WORRY VLADDY. I GOT YOU COVERED!" he yelled shooting some Fenton GooTM everywhere.

"JACK." Vlad could barely contain his anger. He was too tired to deal with this right now.

"Where's the ghost?" Jack asked looking around and totally ignoring the fuming little guy in front of him.

"What. ghost.?" How the fuck did that idiot even get in here?

"The ghost! From the readings!" Jack pulled out a big screen from one of his pockets. That pocket was definetly too small to store that screen btw. "There was a ghost here just a second ago, that's why I drove over!"

"What is that?" Vlad asked pointing to the screen thing.

"Oh! It's just the Fenton Ghost DetectorTM! I noticed you were gone for a few days, so I broke into your mansion and installed the detection scanners everywhere to make sure no ghost messes with your stuff or tries to set up a trap while your gone!"

That was... certainly something Jack Fenton would do. Breaking and entering that is. A little warmth crawled into Vlad's insides at the realization that his college buddy actually noticed his short absence and cared about his sorry ass.

He punched himself in the gut to stop the warmth from spreading.

"Uh, you're good there V-man? You're not possessed, are you?"

Vlad took a deep breath before stretching a fake smile across his face. "No, I am quite fine. Just... had a little stomach ache."

"Ah! And you deal with it by making it hurt more! Just like in college!"

"Yes... Exactly like in college..." Vlad was not ready for the powerful shoulder slap he recieved in that moment (he should've been ready, he's known this man and his shoulder slappng tendencies for years). Straighting out his back after Jack almost snapped it in half, he cleared his throat. "Well as you can see, I am now back. So you can take all the scanners off."

"What? No way! I'd rather know of any ghostly threats in your house!"

Vlad was ready to argue, but before he could say anything Jack grabbed him by the shoulder he slapped half a minute ago and brought him into a half hug, placing a very soft kiss on his forehead.

"Gotta make sure all the people I love are safe!"

And that made Vlad.exe stop working. The warmth in his intestines came back tenfold and he was pretty sure he was blushing.

He hated this man so fucking much how DARE he make him feel LIKE THIS.

As he was standing there unrespodning for a few seconds, Jack took a look at the papers laying on the ground. He pointed at a picture of the artifact Vlad was looking after for the past 3 days.

"Oh hey it's that weird paper weight i found and stole from Danno's room!"

That was enough to bring Vlad back to earth.

He promptly punched himself in the gut again.

"Vladdy!"

[redbulltropical]

God maybe this is just me but for the love of god I’m so tired of ableism in this fucking fandom. Maybe this is mainly a twitter issue (nvm, twitter is an issue in of itself) but it’s basically everywhere. It’s established that the entire alt scene pretty much prioritises looking a very specific way and if you don’t fit that then oh well I guess you don’t belong. 

Take Frank’s album Stomachaches, no one takes that shit seriously and it sucks. Stomachaches is an incredible piece of art talking about chronic illness and if I have to see it boiled down to “damn, tummy ache :(” by some shitty twitter user or mediocre blogger one more time i’m gonna fucking explode.

It means so much to me to see someone I know struggles with the same things I do perform in front of thousands of people, even just seeing pics of Frank wearing a compression sleeve or ice packs feels so validating, but then I’ll fucking log back on and see some shitty joke about Frank’s accident as if it’s just some chill drama that’s fun to meme. 

Even when Gerard walked with a cane briefly during tbp after screwing up his ankle during the ftlw mv shoot there was - and still is - an abundance of people mocking him or saying how it didn’t fit the aesthetic or made him look weak or out of place. And that was an injury and not a permanent disability. Some of us aren’t going to heal and go back to looking cool and aesthetic. Some of us use mobility aids or have limb differences and “ugly” scars or a whole plethora of things that don’t conform to the fucking quirky alt aesthetic.

Fuck this goes beyond just the band members and how people interact with them, it’s a wider fucking issue.

Being called slurs or being told I don’t belong at shows or I shouldn’t go if i’m just going to sit down fucking stings. This shit is fucking serious it’s not a goddamn joke and everyone ignores it.

I am literally begging at this point. Listen to Frank’s music and try and fucking understand. Don’t just brush off ableism because it “isn’t a big deal.”

I could write pages  about this but my brain is not working at it’s best so i’m gonna leave it here for now 

[gey-beans]

I posted 478 times in 2021

40 posts created (8%)

438 posts reblogged (92%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 10.9 posts.

I added 30 tags in 2021

#elricest - 15 posts

#omegaverse - 3 posts

#edxal - 2 posts

#alpha/beta/omega dynamics - 2 posts

#fullmetal alchemist - 2 posts

#fanfiction - 2 posts

#this is calling me out - 1 posts

#i got 9 - 1 posts

#understanding friendly stubborn - 1 posts

#i haven't eaten many things on this list tho - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#i sometimes pretend that i don't have any mental illnesses just to make myself feel bad about my current situation

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Here's a quick preview of an elricest ABO fic that I'm writing!

Edward checked the clock. 9:45. Shit.

Alphonse had left almost around 8 promising to be home in an hour. However, almost 2 hours later and still no sight of him. 

Edward knew he could handle his own, but it didn't mean he wasn't freaking out. It was going to rain soon, he could tell. His ports ached and his head throbbed. He had a fog slowly building up in his head that he blamed on the weather too.

He knew it was useless to go looking for Al, he didn't even say where he was going, but he had already made up his mind. He nearly fell face forward when he got up from the chair he was sitting in. The rain must really be affecting him today. 

He managed to stumble his way over to the wall where his coat hung and collapsed against it completely winded. Was he sick or something? He was probably just tired. He could sleep after he found alphonse. But his scent glands were acting up too, probably from the stress. 

He struggled with the sleeves while trying to put his coat on and eventually gave up, throwing it on the ground and walking out the door. 

He nearly fell again while trying to walk down the stairs, having to use the handrail as a lifeline in order to make it down. This was getting old, why was he stumbling everywhere? This has never happened when he was sick, had it? His brain was too fuzzy to remember. Oh well, he'd be fine.

Walking down the sidewalk was difficult. His legs felt heavy and the road was too narrow and it felt like the world was closing in on him. A car drove past him and he almost fell over when the lights got too close. Shit, this was too much.

Everything was too much. He could smell all the people who walked by him, their scents assaulting his nose. The closer he got to the city the worse it got. There were too many sounds, too many scents, hell, he couldn't even tell where he was at this point.

Edward started hyperventilating, wishing he was anywhere but here. Wishing he was at home in his nest.

Nest...

Fuck.

He was in heat.

Oh god, he was in public and he was going through heat.

6 notes • Posted 2021-11-02 17:25:39 GMT

#4

For the headcanon meme, the Elric brothers (together or separate): ☾ ☆ ☯ ൠ please!

Sleepy headcanon: When Al gets his body back, he is extremely tired. But he can't sleep without ed next to him. He whines to the nurses and uses his big sad eyes to convince her to bring in a bigger bed so they can sleep together.

Happy headcanon: Despite the fact that Ed doesn't like cats, he loves to see Al happy. Sometimes he'll purposefully look down an alley that he hears a cat from and pretend to grumble when Al starts playing with the cat. He just can't help himself, he loves seeing Al get all excited.

Likes/dislikes: Al loves learning new languages while Ed sleeps. He gets as many books as he can and reads them to keep him occupied at night. He's probably fluent in 4 other languages by the time he gets his body back.

Edward hates sweets. I think that's kinda canon already tho. I imagine he doesn't like super salty things either. (Sorry if this one was bland I didn't have too many headcanons for this TwT)

Random headcanon: (sorry if this one is kinda sad) Alphonse has a lot of mental illnesses even when he was in the armor. It made Ed all the more motivated to get Al's body back, because without a body they couldn't help treat them. Sometimes Alphonse gets overwhelmed and just needs a hug, but it only makes him more stressed when he realizes he can't feel them. He also can't escape them. He can't sleep, can't feel anything which makes fidgeting pointless, and he can't take any medication because he doesn't have a body.

Ugggh sorry yall I ended it on a sour note.

6 notes • Posted 2021-11-02 19:16:06 GMT

#3

Yall I need fic Ideas 🥺

I will write literally anything elricest. Gimme fluff, gimme kinky smut. Just gimme ideas

6 notes • Posted 2021-11-14 19:08:34 GMT

#2

A Home Inside Your Heart

This is my first fanfiction please go easy on me 🙏

8 notes • Posted 2021-11-16 03:45:26 GMT

#1

So like the absolute crackhead I am, I am writing an elricest fic in Old English. Behold: God's greatest failure.

14 notes • Posted 2021-10-26 19:21:01 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[ships-bynoa]

#4 & #6 please 🙏

6. Share one of your weaknesses.

Run on sentences. 😞

4. How many fic ideas are you nuturing right now? Care to share one of them?

You do not want to know! 😂 it's well over 50 and most of them are half or partially written and left because perfectionism is ruining my life.

Fic meme ask.

Fandom: Titans

Title: Unsteady (Dickkory fic)

Prompt: Vulnerable @ dickkorysource (yes, that's how old this is)

A/N: Future fic set at the end of S2

With the others hovering in the kitchen, picking at the food they left behind hours before, Kory uses the distraction to escape.

"Going to bed," is all she manages, but considering the time it's enough, and they mumble their own acknowledgements to her back.

Dick says nothing.

She walks the long hall, pausing briefly outside Gar and Rachel’s rooms respectively, before retiring to her own.

Kory aches everywhere. And she’s tired, she’s so tired she could sleep for an entire moon cycle and still not feel rested. She’s restless too, and hurting, and it’s eating her up inside not to say it or feel it out loud.

Forced to keep seeing fiddei’s face as he buries himself in her chest, taking up room and making it tighter - harder to breathe. She's conjuring up all the creative ways Kom could’ve hurt their parents for the last time, wondering if her brother is even alive, and she’s sickened to her stomach. So sick, she hasn't eaten or drank anything because she's too full, too heavy to carry more.

Would her sister leave her anyone left to love? Was she so far gone, so cruel she would consume everyone in her darkness? Kory knows Kom loves their brother, but she’s afraid maybe she doesn’t love him enough to let him live unless he was smart enough to pledge his allegiance to her claim of the throne. And even then his time would be limited because Kom would know, she always knows.

Tamaran is in the hands of an insecure, spoiled, self-entitled tyrant and she’s stuck on Earth, powerless to do anything about it. Before this, it was a choice, escaping her responsibilities to discover choices she'd never been given, to discover people stumbling their way forward. She didn’t have to have it all figured out, she was allowed to be unsure about her future, despite everyone back home telling her what that was.

Home was suffocating her and no matter how deep the breaths she took were, she was losing air - dying a slow death. Measured for gowns, scheduled for royal court meetings, forced to show herself among the people though she wasn't allowed to dine with them. Kory was never allowed to forget her status. Her destiny.

The escape was like breathing again for the first time, but then, Tamaran still had compassionate leaders in her parents. Now, everything is fucked up because she couldn't handle the pressure of royalty. Because she wanted to connect with people who didn't know who she was and forge her own path. Her people were dying while she indulged in jellie donuts and music.

Her bedroom door knocks, but she doesn’t answer. Words won't come because something else is lodged in her a throat; a confession, a cry for help, a wish.

"Kory," Dick's voice beats against the door.

Kory clenches her fists, feels warmth spread through her body, but no fire because on top of everything else, her powers are fucking gone. Plus, Gar was tortured, Rachel is gone and Donna is dead.

And Dick - Deathstroke could’ve killed him. Kory is full. She wants to blast this whole tower to the ground, blow it up to ash, rather than cry, or scream and break shit, but she can’t. It isn't fair that the consequences of her wanting a break, a chance to figure herself out is losing everyone she loves.

"I'm coming in," he says, and the door clicks open.

Kory can't lose anyone else, and the bruises littering Dick's face, his knuckles and the hidden injury across his ribs making him lean favorably on his left side is a reminder she doesn't need. A reminder that being on Earth won't save her from loss, or pain, or even difficult decisions.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you want to go train?" She huffs out, shaking her shoulders forward. Maybe all she needs is to hit something.

“What is it?” Dick shuts the door behind him, closing the ruckus outside. "I know something's up. Ever since you got back. Talk to me."

Kory makes a nonchalant shrug with her face, contemplates attributing her attitude change to recent events. "You're asking me that after everything that's happened?"

"Everything." Dick takes a step closer. "Or something?"

Kory swallows, and drops her shoulders in defeat because she can’t chew on this and swallow it down anymore. She can’t press the pain to the roof of her mouth, clenched tight between her teeth.

“Uh,” she swirls her tongue across her teeth, and Dick buries his hands in his pockets, waiting for her, on her time.

“Back home,” Kory says, but it comes out as a broken whisper, and she clears her throat, drawing her shoulders back, though her chest feels broken and her throat wants to close. “On my planet – I’m a princess, or at least I was."

To be continued...

[tonystarkstan]

The noise is the worst part.

The inescapable noise, everywhere he goes. The pounding in his eardrums, the echoes in his skull, the talking the talking the talking, and god he wishes everyone would shut up and he knows that’s not fair, because it’s not their fault it’s not their fault, they’re just scared, everyone is scared but god, if everyone could just shut the fuck up.

But Peter also knows that his maximum capacity for noise is not their responsibility. So he does he only thing he can think to do.

He holes up in the basement of an abandoned building, the closest thing he can get to solitude.

“Karen, Do Not Disturb,” Peter grits out, curling into a tight ball. “Black Out Protocol.”

He nearly sobs in relief when a solid shield falls over his eyes and everything goes blissfully quiet.

(But it is not entirely silent. It never fucking is.)

“Spider-Man, we need your help! We’re completely out of food and I’m too scared to go to the store.”

“Spider-Man, please! I can’t pay for medical assistance.”

“Spider-Man, you have to save my daughter!”

A whimper works its way up Peter’s throat, and he clasps his hands over his ears tightly, as if that’ll silence the noise in his head. As if that’ll fix this mess. As if he can save everyone. As if he can save anyone.

He can pull people from burning buildings, but he cannot pull viruses from cells.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, barely aware of tears soaking his mask as he tries to get a grip of himself. He squeezes his eyes shut for a desperate, selfish moment wishing he could be back at MIT, complaining about his next lab report that he procrastinated and stressing over his next exam.

He wishes he were back in his tiny apartment with his two roommates, watching movies at night and studying Grignard reactions during the day, eating brownies for dinner and eight eggs at 2AM just because he can.

Not being sent home, forced back into a suit that feels just a little too tight right now, because he didn’t even have time to pause and think about slipping back into it before the college sent out emails ordering the students off of campus, before racing home and immediately trying to fix the collateral damage of everyone’s panic.

He loves Spider-Man, but he’d give anything to go back to just being Peter Parker.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, curled up on the cool cement, eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping his head, when a hand touches his shoulder and he flinches back violently.

“Karen, disable Black Out Protocol!” Peter says frantically, and even the dim lighting of the room is enough to make him wince. He blinks blearily, even as his body coils with tension.

“Easy, kid, it’s just me,” Tony says in a low voice, hands raised.

Peter looks at him with wild eyes as the noise comes rushing back in, and he lets out a stuttered, “T-Tony?”

Tony keeps his movements slow, trying not to startle the kid any more than he already his.

“I’m here, Peter,” Tony reassures. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Something inside of Peter that had been sitting in his stomach like hot acid bubbles to the surface, and he can’t stop himself before snarling, “It’s NOT! It’s not fucking okay, Tony!” He ignores the look of alarm on the man’s face in favor of yelling more, because at least that’s louder than everything in his head. “Have you seen the world outside? Don’t—don’t tell me it’s okay when I have people screaming at me because they’re sick and need help and I can’t do shit. It’s not—fuck—I can’t—I keep thinking I want to go home but I am home, but I want the home I had before—before this mess. And I can’t—Spider-Man isn’t enough, it’s—”

Peter cuts off abruptly with a swear, swaying in place as he tries to catch his breath. He looks up at Tony with wide eyes, mortified at his outburst.

“Fuck—I’m sorry. I—”

“Peter, you need to breathe,” Tony tells him.

“I can’t—”

“You can,” Tony says firmly. “You know the drill. Inhale. Hold. Exhale.”

He waits, watches attentively as Peter tries to rein in his helplessness, and Tony can’t help the flash of pride he feels as Peter slowly takes a deep breath, holding it for few seconds before exhaling.

“Good, Peter. You’re doing great,” Tony encourages. “Do it again.”

They stay like that for a few silent moments, Tony crouched in front of Peter as he collects himself again, trying to tame the raw panic that’s been coursing through him for the past week.

Eventually, Tony sees some of the tension seep from his bones, and Peter sags back against the wall tiredly. Tony moves to sit next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and Peter takes comfort in the solid presence next to him.

“What time is it?” Peter eventually asks into the silence.

“Nearing three in the morning,” Tony tells him, and Peter darts a surprised look at him.

It was around six in the evening when Peter took off. “Fuck.”

“You’ve gotten liberal with that word,” Tony observes, his lips quirking with amusement, and Peter gives him a sheepish look.

“It applies,” he answers simply, and Tony hums in agreement.

For a moment, they just sit in the comfort of each other’s presence, and Peter’s chest aches with how much he’s missed this. How much he’s missed Before. Before the virus, before college, before the Snap. Back when it was just him and Tony, working in the lab and tweaking his suit and bouncing theories back and forth like currency.

How did life get away from them so fast?

“I read this post once,” Peter says suddenly, and Tony doesn’t look at him, but he does press a little bit closer, everything inside of him stilling as he listens to his kid. “It was about tornadoes. It was talking about how if you see a tornado and it doesn’t look like it’s moving but it’s getting bigger, it’s because it’s moving towards you.”

“That’s.... horrifying,” Tony comments when Peter doesn’t immediately continue.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees. Then, “This is what that feels like. It feels like you’re watching a tornado and you think you’re a safe distance away, but then you realize it’s getting bigger and bigger, and there’s the awful realization that’s it’s because it’s getting closer, and there is nothing you can do to outrun it. You just have to sit there and accept that it’s going to hit and it’s going to wreck your life and you’ll either survive it or you won’t.”

Tony looks at Peter, then, but the kid is staring at the ground, jaw clenched as if regretting his outburst. Tony nudges him gently and waits for him to look up. When he finally does, there’s a fear in his eyes that Tony hasn’t seen since Thanos. It makes him sick.

“That’s been building for quite awhile, huh, kid?” Tony says gently, and Peter shrugs.

“I... I like coming back to Queens but...”

“But not under life-threatening circumstances and in the midst of global tragedy,” Tony finishes for him. “I get it, bud. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed by all of this. Hell, even I had my meltdown with Pep already. Because god if I don’t feel like I’m doing enough. Every second not spent in the lab feels like I’m letting the world down. But that’s just... it’s not sustainable. You’re allowed to take a break, to get away. In fact, you need to, sometimes.”

Peter nods, swallowing thickly. “It’s just... it’s so loud,” he says, wincing at how whiny it sounds coming from his mouth. But he’s tired. The topic has flooded his entire life, both Peter Parker’s and Spider-Man’s and he just wants to escape it. It’s in his group chats and plastered all over the news and social media and in memes and it never stops. It never stops.

“I know, buddy,” Tony says sadly, and Peter can’t help but feel a flash of guilt, because he knows that out of all people, Tony really does get it. “But listen to me.” He waits until Peter is looking him straight in the eye. “The world has survived every disaster it’s faced so far. It has survived mass extinctions and it’s survived us. And we have survived mad Titan gods, we’ve lost half our population, and we’ve come back. We have survived plagues and natural disasters, and these things—yes, they’re inevitable. They’re devastating. But we will rebuild. We’re going to wake up one day, just like we always have, and we’ll find that we’ve survived again. That the tornado has torn through our lives and we’ve survived it against all odds, and we’ll be okay. And for those who aren’t—we’ll be there for them, too.”

There is silence as Peter lets his mentor’s words sink in, letting them curl inside his chest and plant a little bit of hope there. After a minute or so, he looks up at Tony and gives him a small smile.

“You steal that inspirational monologue from Pepper?” Peter teases, but Tony sees the gratitude in his eyes.

“Oi, none of that,” Tony protests, giving Peter a little shove. “I’ll have you know I’ve gotten much better at writing my own inspirational speeches. It’s the therapy.”

“Well, it’s... it’s definitely helped,” Peter admits, and he finally lets himself sink into Tony’s side, taking comfort in his warmth. Tony wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

“Yeah?”

Peter closes his eyes are a moment, feeling hope grow inside of his chest.

“Yeah.”

(Hang on tight. Because even though the bad things feel inevitable, so are the good ones.)

[rk-silverknight]

✖ - a repressed memory

Memory Meme  ||  Past experiences help shape who we are currently, how we see the world. Send in a symbol and I’ll write a drabble of one of my muse’s memories. 

“..new guy...”

“Him........”

“...wake up...”

Shut up, I want to sleep.

“Kid...up...”

Shut it, I’m tired.

“Kid...wake up or....next!”

Damn it, is five more minutes too much to ask!?

“...not waking up....Dr...-ing soon..”

Who’s coming soon? What?

“He’s the last one, we’re....100..”

Fine, I’m up.

He tried to move, for some reason or another his body aches. Why, he has no idea but he also doesn’t have time to think about it. As he pries his eyes open he’s overwhelmed by the bright light that is everywhere and closes them again  to prevent any headaches or whatever bright lights may do to one, “Fuck, it’s too bright.” he manages to mumble, though to his surprise there are more replies than what he had anticipated. He thought there were only two or three voices, he was wrong. I need to get up.

“Finally you wake up kid, here I thought that maybe you would be dead soon.” said one with long hair. Why would I be dead? He manages to sit up from what he realizes is the floor as another helps him. This time as his eyes open he scans the area, there are several of them and they’re all in a room. Few tables in the center with some cards and everyone in a small circle or another.

“You know you’d be next right. If you’re of no use to them that’s it.” another added, though his confusion grows even more. Where was he and who were they? Many inquires flood his mind but nothing really seems safe to ask, not at the moment at least. 

“What number are you?” another asks, he realizes its the big guy that helped him sit up, “What are you talking about? What number?” this is all too confusing.

------hey---------up--------

“We don’t know much of you kid, all we know is that the others from your specific block are dead and here you are added to ours since some of our guys are gone. Did they fuck with your mind again? Having your memories erased once just isn’t enough for theses assholes is it?” long hair this time, although the information being given is one that would sound frightening to one, something in him doesn’t really react. Have I done this before?

“I go by M-24,” big guy again, “there were a total of 100 of us, we are known as the ‘M-Series’, but as they run their experiments our numbers fall. I’m not sure how many are still alive, but I know that you were added to our block since the others are dead. We are nothing but lab rats to Union, look at your wrist. That’s your number, if you’re lucky you remember something from your past, but whatever they do to us our memories are gone. Tell me, do you remember anyone from your previous block, or your name.” 

I look at my wrist, the ‘M’ and ‘21’ are there, as I look around I can see the others have a number as well. No one is fighting or looking too eager to get out. Either it’s something they don’t care about, or it’s something that has been done prior but this ‘Union’ can shut us all up. Fuck it all. “I’m M-21 then, I don’t remember anything else, sorry.” Why are they gone? Am I a nobody? 

-----’ey------M-----’ey------

“Welcome to our block then, M-21, let’s do our best to stay alive and survive, deal?” M-24 states, M-21 could only agree. “Th-!”

“Everyone, get in line! Jake is coming! Hurry before we’re all killed, he looks pissed off!”

“Jake?”

“Get in line M-21, he’s our executioner. Wake up the others that are resting! Hurry!” He can’t be that bad? Right? I don’t remember.

Though M-21 doesn’t recall if he’s met Jake before he can see the fear in all the others. Although it doesn’t take to long for him to know why that fear was present. After all, Jake was having a bad day so he took it out on the ‘M-Series’, killing three of the ones who weren’t able to get in line fast enough. JAKE!

M-21 wants to make him hurt because he hurt the others. This wasn’t right, none of it was, they were all human, so why?!

--”Wake up M! Please!”--

A voice? Who’s that? “You’re next M-21, for betraying the Union!”

“Wake up!! M!!”

Jake is charging, his hand only inches away from his face. Fear, anger? He’s not sure what it is, so all he can do is the first thing that comes to mind. “If I’m dying, I’m going out swinging!” his fist is clenched, ready to punch. He lunges, knowing full well that Jake is stronger than him but he wants to put up some fight, just one punch.

“M! WAke up please!”

With a start M opens his eyes, he’s greeted by Tao and Takeo, seconds later Frankenstein comes in followed by the other occupants in the house. “WHat?!” he voices. Though he only then realizes that his ‘punch’ is being blocked by Takeo, from the looks of it Tao was the target. He’s sweating and its a bit difficult to breath. What the hell was that? Shit, I almost hurt them.

“Calm down M, we’re okay and we only came to check on you since you were mumbling in your sleep. Everything okay??” Tao asks, M sits back up on his bed, embarrassed at what he was about to do and feeling bad that he woken up the others.

“M, you are not bothering us and you didn’t wake us up. It’s only natural for family to watch out for one another and make sure they are well don’t you agree?” Rai won’t speak much but when he does, his words sure do hold power.

“See M, now since Master has voiced our thoughts I’ll go make some tea. It’ll help you relax and get some rest. Everyone too, out, we must let him rest.” 

“We’re here to listen if you ever need us okay M? Please do not hesitate to reach out to us.” Takeo, bless him for not complaining about the ‘punch’, though now was a good time as any to tell them.

“I-it wasn’t much, but I remembered. I remember my first meeting with M-24 and a few of the other M-Series. It looks like this isn’t my first time losing my memories, but I think it’s important. I always thought our first meeting was as a duo before meeting the rest, but I was wrong. We met before, and that’s when we also met Jake.” there’s a silence that follows after, and M’s grateful that they don’t question him any more. 

“Take it one step at a time M, perhaps more memories will return, just be ready because I’m certain that not all of them will be nice.”

“Thank you Frankenstein. Thank you everyone. I mean it.”

“We’re all a family, even Seira and I. So don’t ‘thank’ us, this is natural.”

“Regis is correct, family is there for one another and will be there always to help and support in any way we can.” 

“Still, thanks again, it means a lot to me. So, some tea and then we go back to sleep?”

“Frankenstein.”

“Yes Master, as you wish.” Well that’s the plan for tonight, I made it M-24. Thanks for always being there from the start, I have a family now. A unique family but one that I will protect as well. Until we meet again my brother.

[starfaring-princelotor]

How would you care for you lover if they were pregnant? In the future of course if youre not ready for children now, but Id love to know how you'd look after them. Maybe if they even have more than one, would that affect anything?

Ah, children are the seeds of the future, no? Is it so impossible to think I have thoroughly thought about having a family to call my own? 

Pairings: Lotor x Reader

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing.  ★

Listen

LISTEN

You don’t understand how shook Lotor is when you say those two words.

I’m pregnant.

The Prince feels EVERYTHING.

Fear, joy, anxiety, worry, pride, oh my stars, he is so proud.

More importantly 

Lotor is fucking HAPPY.

Like his soul has ascended because surely this news?

Best thing that passed through his ears that he MUST have died from shock.

He doesn’t pass out, but he needs a wall to hold and steady himself.

Like that old man clutching his heart meme.

Is his situation ideal right now?

What with the war going on?

Voltron? 

Zarkon’s empire growing stronger and stronger? 

Lotor’s banishment?

No, not exactly suitable to raise children.

So, Lotor will MAKE it perfect for you.

It is not like he never thought about having children before.

In all honesty, he probably thought he did not have time to raise a child in a loving, caring environment.

Let alone find someone who would be willing to bear him a child.

He may be a Prince, but he is not liked by the Galra.

Heritage is important to him and, well, he wants his child to have a sense of belonging.

Not like he did struggling growing up.

What with how awful he was raised by Zarkon and Honerva.

Like fucking hell.

Lotor would NEVER raise his children like they raised him.

Fuck you dad, I’ll make my own family with love and support.

Lotor does not want his history, his past grievances, his war, to be on his child’s shoulders.

So, you know, he had planned.

Very carefully.

He took into account all of his royalty history and how that could possibly affect you and the child.

Every scenario he played out always started with you safely hidden away.

Somewhere no one could even hear about you and the baby.

Generals, continue my work without me. My love and I will be taking a leave of absence.

He does not give a reason for he should not need to explain at all.

I am sorry, but I really feel that Lotor would not even trust his generals to be around you.

10,000 years and he has enemies everywhere.

Does he trust them? 

Yes. 

To an extent.

Too close that if he were vulnerable, they would know where to strike.

That includes you.

But this is his child, his FAMILY, and although he considers his generals part of his family, too.

He wants to play it safe at all angles.

The risk is too high to keep you around others while your belly grows.

Again, Lotor’s paranoia and ingenious mind come into play.

He takes you to some isolated planet that has NOT been tainted by Zarkon yet.

It is not exactly cozy, but listen.

He will try to explain it to you.

Darling, my love, I know this is not the ship nor your home planet, but it is safe.

Please understand I want you and the baby to be safe at all costs.

You know what he really means.

I am a dangerous, wanted man.

There are dangerous people after me.

After you.

So yeah, some small house big enough just for you two and, soon, three.

Lotor is a proud soon-to-be father.

Almost…too proud.

I will teach them all I know, darling.

Fighting and surviving and loving and cooking and reading the stars and -

He also does all the typical things that come with pregnancy.

Feed you, take you out to get fresh air, all the mundane care.

Let’s you cry on him and he tries his best to sooth your worries.

Mostly just by holding you, possibly laying his hand on your belly just to remind him.

Remind YOU

This is ours?

Yes.

We will be okay.

Lotor gets fiercely protective.

Not to the point where his emotions will get in the way should someone choose to harm you.

No, now he is Prince Lotor, the analytical war-raised Galtean who is a force of nature to be reckoned with.

He shows no mercy, only a quick and absolute death. 

Though, during the deep, dark nights where he gets little rest.

Lotor just still can not believe it.

He had doubts in his early life that he might never have a family.

That is one reason why he just turned to working to find a way to achieve his other goals.

But now that this dream is up in his face?

This opportunity?

He will take it head on.

Lotor knows there will be…complications with the birth.

He brings the best Altean doctors from the Colony.

Doesn’t tell them where they are going, only that he requests their aid and, well, who are they to deny him?

However, he still will cut off any way they can communicate with anyone outside the planet.

Safety first.

The Prince even has the purest form quintessence with him, just as a precaution to help you should the pain be unbearable.

He is both Altean and Galran.

He has no idea how your body will handle his genes and yours.

Imagine his surprise when the good doctors do their check ups and tell him.

My lord, the baby is doing exquisitely well.

Oh, good, that’s one fear of his put to rest.

Every day your belly grows bigger and your ankles get sore.

If you are out on a fresh air walk and get tired, he will kneel on one leg and let you sit on his offered thigh.

Lotor, what are you doing?

You are tired, no? Come, sit. Rest.

Pat pat his thigh and you are actually humbled by how dedicated his is to your comfort.

You know he would even carry you back with ease should walking be too tedious for your feet.

He will massage your aching feet.

Lotor is a humble man while watching you nearly fall asleep from his relaxing thumbs kneading your heel.

I can’t say this enough.

Lotor planned the fuck out of this.

“Have you thought of a name-”

“Atlas.”

“W-wha-? Already? But what if its a -”

“Celeste.”

Lotor loves pressing his ear to your belly.

Whether to feel the baby kick or…

Perhaps if he strained really hard, he can hear the heartbeat

“Strong. Our child is going to be strong, my love, I can hear it.”

During all this? 

Sleeping at night, he is the big spoon.

All the time.

In fact, he is probably a little too suffocating in general, hovering around you at every waking hour.

Should you request time alone, he will do it.

By standing outside the door.

Like his entire being can not bear to be away from you.

Guarding, listening very carefully if you need anything.

He’s silent, so you do not detect him still out there.

Perks of star-faring race.

Now, the actual birth.

He is frantic, heart beating way too quickly in his chest.

Looking back, he probably wondered if he was having a damn heart attack.

I bet the moment your water broke, he raced to the doctor’s room and practically dragged them to you. 

Lotor is holding your hand the entire time.

“My love, my darling, my celestial Goddess, the keeper of my heart and soul.”

What he wouldn’t do for you to take this childbirth pain from you.

As much as he wants this, wants a child with you by his side, he knows this has not been easy at all for you.

But oh, when his kin is crying and wailing.

And he hears the doctors say “Healthy.”

Lotor is kissing your sweaty forehead, nuzzling you, praising you.

Thank you, thank you, my love, look. Our child…our family…

His heart? 

FULL.

His soul? 

FULL.

He knows things could have been worse.

Mixed species rarely come out perfect.

But with you?

Somehow, it worked. 

Was it your body? 

Your physiology? 

He did not know.

Did not really think too deeply into it right now.

Yeet those insecurities.

Especially when he’s holding such a small being in his large arms.

“Our child…has my nose. My ears…”

And when that baby peers up at Lotor for the first time?

He is smiling and utterly smitten.

This baby has his entire soul wrapped around one tiny finger.

Lotor sheds one tear, one jeweled star sapphire gem for his pride and joy.

Listen, Lotor is always calculating.

There is never a quiet moment in his head, especially now that he has a family that any enemy could hold against him.

But the moment his child falls asleep in his arms?

Everything in his mind is silent.

For once, he is able to just take in the sight of holding you and the baby in his arms.

He does not leave your side at all for a full month, too enamored at the scene of you cradling the bundle of joy.

It is the sight of his family that pushes his will and dedication not only for you, not only his child, but the future he needs to ensure for all three of you.

Stars and moon above, he is a father, and he will use all his skills he learned from 10,000 years being  alive to protect his family.

[dyncstes-a]

20

TWENTY . THINGS YOU SAID THAT I WASN���T MEANT TO HEAR .

              ❛      of course i love him .      ❜

                                   the office is large , sophisticated ; with clean ceiling walls and minimalistic-focused design . it’s a muggle-style influenced , and it has taken zabini time as well as recommendations from a french interior designer for him to finally agree with the concept . now , zabini basks in what’s become of his business with hans                standing there in the middle of his office , looking not even a hair out of place . but then again , hans thinks , if blaise tries hard enough , he can make any place works for him . it’s the slytherin in them , being ambitious enough to fit everywhere if they so desire .

                                  now , zabini looks mad . it’s different from his usually frowning expression : his dark look is tethered with lines of dissatisfaction , dark eyes gleaming in a silent fury , while hands clutched rather angrily ( and yet calmly ) upon the similar wedding invitation which hans’ own sat gloomily in a drawer of his office desk . zabini hasn’t cared much about hans’ well-being , not truly in the beginning , but they’ve come so far into their companionship that some things begin to matter . zabini’s mother growing sick , as an example . or hans’ reason for building their empire in the first place is now breaking his heart .

                               more like crushing it into tiny places , but what else is new ?

              ❛     don’t look at me like that , you know i love him .      ❜

                            “ sorry , didn’t realise love is equivalent to letting the person you adore the most , marry somebody else , or ‚ in another word : being a fucking idiot . ”     when you are small , and very educated in the world of wizarding people and hogwarts , you will learn that the slytherin pride its members as being cunning , resourceful and — most of all — ambitious . so , it’s not completely surprising at all that hans has patiently builds everything he could , left everything he knew , just so that one day , he can make the one person who absolutely matters to him , be proud of him . or love him back . it’s also doesn’t come as a shocking account to realise that there is never a plan in this scenario in which hans will fail , or worse yet — rejected .

                           but there goes the wedding invitation anyway , still fluttering eagerly in hopes hans’ quill would grace the scented paper with an answer . and zabini is not satisfied with this , hans understands this . in his head , probably , he has been seeing a different result : has been understood from the beginning since he’s agreed to invest with hans that by the end of this , somehow , hans will gain cedric’s love . and everything they will work for — it has reached a goal , somewhat . like it has meanings . or at least , hans’ work will .

                           slytherin are often wrong , too .

                ❛      what do you wish for me to say , blaise ? that yes , i built a whole empire just to get my old boyfriend back . and yes , it didn’t work . and yes , i feel a generous ache inside my bones every time i’m reminded that i’m not the one who cedric looks for in times of trouble . and with that wedding-fucking-invitation , i won’t be . ever . do you expect me to sprint to my legs and run to him ? fight for him , perhaps ?       ❜       of course the answer is yes . after all , cedric didn’t even know what hans has done . all he knows is hans was damaged .      ❛     don’t you think i fought for him enough ?     ❜

                       zabini is glaring . the answer is obvious : no .

                       but hans is tired . he’s forgotten how much effort and sweat he puts into pouring his love                 why he refuses to , for that long while . it’s because in the end , it all seems like it isn’t worth anything . he does all of this , and then what ? it’s just like another version of a kick to his stomach . except this time , it’s worse . 

           ❛     he doesn’t love me anymore . that’s alright . i’m over it . you should , too .     ❜    four sentences . one command , one truth , two lies . the door squeaks , and both the slytherin looks to the entrance of the office . hans’ secretary is there . mrs. rodwell , a half-born woman in her late 30s , looking at the two of them with her sharp eyes through her glasses that’s perched on the edge of her pointy nose . she sniffs , knowingly , then announces in her shrilly voice ,    “    erm , sorry ser , a mr. diggory has came in to see you but —   ”     sniffs .    “   i sent him in , didn’t realise mister zabini will be here . it seems mr. diggory has left , ser . just to inform , yes . sorry , ser.    ”

                        and then there’s that .

@sparekilled / “the things my muse said…” meme — selectively accepting.