#swapped out his history with another patient

[sailor-artemis]

The Seconds Waiting

After the craziness of XIV write, I picked myself up and dusted myself off to write a little something for @bloodbywinter for this go-around of the FFXIV Swap, plus a couple GPose "illustrations" to go along with it! I'm pretty dang happy with how it all turned out, so I figured why not share it? Big thanks to the Swap discord for putting this together and to @bloodbywinter for sharing Asmundur with me; you can find the story below here or in a Google doc!

“They tell me about you, you know.” Koana unceremoniously broke the silence.

Asmundur looked over to the Hhetsarro as they sat and waited for news from Thancred, furrowed brow and skewed ears completing a quizzical sort of look.

“Thancred, and Urianger. Mostly Urianger, to be truthful.” Koana pulled his knees up to his chest, his worry for his sister clearly affecting him. “To say you've been busy would be a vast understatement, if even half of their tales are to be believed.”

Asmundur idly rubbed his arm as he waited for Koana to continue, sensing that Koana was speaking more to occupy his mind and fill the dead air than to try and glean some sort of advantage in the contest for the throne.

“I strive to be the person they seem to think I can be, but… I'm not sure even my best efforts will suffice. Having glimpsed the possibilities that Sharlayan technology holds, it's a challenge to return and not immediately see it as the solution to any given problem before me. To my eye, that isle seems like a paradise worth aspiring to, and yet… the further along in the contest we progress, the more I find myself wondering if I have the right of things.”

Asmundur remembered that feeling of frustration, early on in his studies. That moment when you've gained just enough knowledge to comprehend all the world's problems, but not enough wisdom to understand that the obvious solution often isn't the best one. It was something Urianger himself had done his best to instill in the Viera with their lessons, to varying degrees of success.

“It comes with time,” Asmundur said in a soft yet deliberate tone. “Knowing your own shortcomings is a good sign. It means Urianger is getting through to you, even just a little.”

Koana looked a bit surprised, his expression quickly changing into an embarrassed smile. “He must've taught you well, then, for you to have accomplished all you've done.”

“He is quite the teacher,” Asmundur replied, fixing his gaze on the part of his gauntlet that he was currently fiddling with. “Even if I wasn't always the best student. He was patient, and thoughtful, and…”

Koana let the silence that followed hang in the air for a moment, perhaps sensing that there was some history between Asmundur and Urianger that he was not privy to.

“...And I am fortunate enough to still count him as a friend.”

—

“Thine arrival is timely as ever.” Urianger turned around, finally ‘noticing’ Asmundur following him out of Bestways Burrow. The Viera gave him a look that laid feelings bare without speaking a word, daring him to try and weave another elaborate lie.

“‘Twas not mine intent to move in shadow, that I can promise you. It seems, however, that my capacity for deceit and duplicity hath caught the ears of our lunar compatriots, and…” Urianger heaved a sigh. “Most days I can put the deceptions of the past from my mind, but I struggle to think of aught else when my apparent talent for subterfuge seems to be the impression that comes to any stranger upon first meeting.”

“So the memories haunt us both, then,” Asmundur replied, filling the empty air. Urianger turned to look Asmundur in the eye for a moment, then fixed his gaze on a distant star above.

“Aye. The Exarch’s scheme backfired, for a mercy, but… thoughts of Moenbryda and Minfilia oft leave me pondering whether I had done them wrong by remaining silent, by not seeking any alternate course. By pushing them ahead on their paths of noble sacrifice. Would they have chosen another way, had one been offered them?”

“Much as I wish it weren’t so, I cannot imagine a scenario in which Minfilia would’ve chosen differently, given the circumstances.” It was Asmundur’s turn to sigh. “The thought has stuck with me these intervening years, wondering if maybe there was a way she could’ve survived, but… I think it was who she was, as a person, that made that decision before she’d ever been presented with it.”

“It seems thou hast the right of it.” Another deep exhale. “We struggle each new day, bearing the burden of those lost who still haunt us, and fighting to save those who remain, but… what of those who cannot be saved? How do we make peace with the dreadful algebra of necessity?”

“Sometimes there’s no right answer. The only wrong answer is to stop trying altogether, I think.” Asmundur crossed his arms, as if trying to somehow keep the rest of his thoughts from escaping into the air.

“I only speak for mine own experience, but… it would not come as a shock if all of us Scions had experienced moments where we began to doubt our own ability to affect change and help those in need, becoming trapped in the throes of malaise and indifference. ‘Twould not be difficult for me to recall examples of mine own personal difficulty with that very thing.”

“I certainly couldn't say I haven't had that exact thought,” Asmundur replied in commiseration. “Sometimes I… I worry that such inaction on my part may have struck wounds in those around me, wounds deeper than I could ever manage to heal on my own.”

“Mayhap the only salve for such an injury is the passing of the years.” Urianger offered a small smile to Asmundur, an olive branch of sorts.

“Maybe so.”

—

“I don't wish to pry, but… was there something between the two of you?” Koana inquired, curiosity winning out over decorum.

“No– well, sort of, but… not really.” Asmundur stumbled over his words, trying to navigate the unexpected line of questioning. After a breath, he continued. “Perhaps we could've been, had things been different. Had I been different. I don't know exactly how much of my past they've told you, but… we've lost many allies on the road to this moment. Sacrifices that were ultimately necessary for the maintenance of the peace we now take for granted, but…”

“That a sacrifice is necessary does not make it easier to swallow,” Koana filled in.

“Aye. And those sacrifices very nearly swallowed me. For many days and nights I was more or less lost in grief; a grief that manifested as a burning rage. It made me an effective weapon, but not so much a welcome companion. And once we’d been called to the First, the gap in the time that had passed between us made things… uncomfortable, for lack of a better word.”

Koana nodded in understanding, prompting Asmundur to continue.

“Calamities don't wait for your relationships to sort themselves out, so the urgency pushed us all back together soon enough, and with enough time, things smoothed out, you could say.” Asmundur shifted his weight slightly. “Enough to the point where I can count him among my friends once more, as I said before.”

“I… Thank you, Asmundur. For your honesty. It's not often I can simply speak my mind and receive a reply from the heart.” Koana adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit. “Lamaty’i, she… she's an open book, but always to a happy page, it seems. There are things I wish to tell her, concerns about our brother, about our homeland, about… me, but it feels like I would only weigh her down if I did.”

“I’m reminded just now of something Urianger told me, many moons ago. What I imagine he might say, were he here.”

“And what might that be?”

—

Another moment of silence lingered as they both gazed out over the moon’s surreal landscape.

“I suppose in all of my words mayhap I have neglected to say it plain. I will consider the Loporrits’ proposition with care, and I plan to keep you all apprised of any developments. ‘Twould be to our mutual benefit if we could converse more openly with our aspiring caretakers, something I should be glad to address on the Scions’ behalf.” Asmundur’s posture relaxed slightly, as did Urianger’s in turn. “I can scarce remember the last time we last spoke like this, and so candidly. For all my supposed skill with words, I oft find it difficult to express such private thoughts, so I offer thee my sincere thanks.”

“I appreciate your candor,” Asmundur replied. “It reminds me of the way we used to talk, long ago.”

“It does feel like a bygone ritual, does it not?” Urianger let out a tiny chuckle, defusing the tension. “One we used to partake in more often, to my memory.” Asmundur nodded in fond remembrance.

—

“To dispense with all pretense and bare one's heart to another is a frightening thing indeed. But we cannot move forward ere we take that bold first step.” Asmundur answered Koana, quoting Urianger’s words faithfully from amidst the memory.

—

“‘Tis a lesson I have learned many times before...and again today, ‘twould seem.” Urianger continued, after a momentary pause.

“One we’ve both learned,” Asmundur corrected.

“One we’ve both learned, then,” Urianger repeated. “In truth, my reason for traveling hither was to effect a plan of mine own. A plan which may pave a way forward for us all. I had rather intended to bear its burden of success or failure alone, but… ‘twould be remiss of me to not extend my scheme to encompass us both, should thou wish to take part. So, wouldst thou join in mine endeavor?”

Asmundur uncrossed his arms, letting his hands subconsciously find pockets to rest in. “So what’s this plan, then?”

—

“Perhaps I will have to put your– rather, Urianger's words into practice, then. Speak my thoughts to Lamaty'i, in spite of my apprehension,” Koana replied, after a moment's consideration.

“If there's one thing my limited experience with your sister has shown, it's that she's a great listener.”

Right on cue, Koana’s linkpearl chimed, and he turned his focus to what was likely Thancred on the other end, calling with news of Wuk Lamat’s captors. Asmundur silently turned his focus to the waters of the nearby river, simply watching it flow by as he awaited the next move in their rescue effort. As he stood up from the grassy bank to follow behind an already-in-motion Koana, he made a mental note to check in with Urianger the next time their paths crossed.

[hollowwrites]

Blindsided

Part 7

Ominis x MC

Summary - Oh no, everyone is sleeping around and there isn’t enough beds! Whatever shall they do!

Continuing the Domestic bliss! Another part should be ready soonish!

Again feel free to swap Evelyn MC or Y/N

Warnings - Nothing much, it’s just the ULTIMATE PINE-FEST! I may never let these guys get together because the lead up is just so cute!! All characters aged up 18+

Word Count - 2790

~

“Oh! Hello, my Young Friends! And Where may I be this fine evening?” The stoney visage of Ignatia Wildsmith moved with more grace than you would expect stone to have

“You could have waited Sebastian” Ominis teased as he bought Evelyn into the room, her face puffy from the mixed bag of emotions upstairs. Anne touched Eves arm, her nose scrunched up as if to ask Are you okay? Evelyn just nodded.

“I didn’t think it would do anything I just lit the flame” Sebastian scratched at his neck in confusion.

The sound of stone moving against stone alerted them all to the Ignatias plaque waiting not so patiently upon the hearth. Her eyes slowly moving between them all.

“Sorry Ignatia, we’ve just popped you up in my Ho-“ Eve started before being interrupted

“Hollow Haunt” Anne shouted clasping her hands over her own mouth at the sheer volume that escaped her.

“Very well” the golden scroll beneath Ignatias bust burned with the inscription Hollow Haunt as her profile settled back into the plaque to remain inanimate. Everyone looked at Anne, who giggled nervously.

“It’s the only thing I remember from History of Magic. The first name you say to a Ignatia plaque is the name of the location.” She explained wringing her hands awkwardly.

“Okay” Eve shrugged, not really caring what her house had been named “Why Hollow Haunt?”

“Well…” she grinned seeing the indifference in Eves face “Since Professor Ronen put the defensive charms around the house the muggles struggle to…comprehend the property. That combined with me being as pale as I am and sometimes things float around the house, the villagers think I’m a ghost. The Hollow Residence is Haunted…Hollow Haunt” she grinned ear to ear “I’ve always wanted to be a ghost and scare children”

Sebastian tried desperately not to laugh. Eve seemed in a odd mood and he didn’t want to offend her anymore than Anne’s stunt may have. He clasped his hand over his mouth to hide the curl of lips.

Ominis simply shook his head. This is typical Anne. But he couldn’t grumble it was nice to have ‘typical’ Anne back.

“I love it!” Eve couldn’t help but smile. Anne’s joy was contagious and it was a rather clever name.

“Oh I’m so glad” She sighed in relief “I got food ready whilst you were upstairs” she skipped to the kitchen without pause.

“I thought we were going back after we’d put this thing up” Sebastian wiped his brow looking at Eve still unsure of her mood “I mean…it’s your house”

“We may as well stay the night now it’s dark out, and we won’t be able to get back before curfew if we’re eating”

“Are you okay with that?” Ominis squeezed her arm.

“Yes it’s fine” she smiled taking his hand and leading him to the small dining table shoved up the corner of the kitchen. Sebastian grabbed the plates from the kitchen cabinets and began to lay the table, whilst they idly chatted. Perhaps having people here wasn’t so bad. As though he could hear her thoughts Ominis squeezed her knee under the table, offering her a genuine smile.

“Told you” he whispered leaning into her “This is better than Home”

“Budge up now, time to get friendly” Sebastian leant across the tiny table putting bowls out for each of them. Ominis grabbed the underside of Evelyn’s chair scraping it across the floor and inching it closer towards him. She blushed at the sudden proximity, their chairs practically interlocked.

“Since when do you lot care about curfew anyway?” Anne asked serving out the homemade stew she’d been cooking since they arrived.

“Since…” Sebastian gulped sitting opposite Ominis on the round table “Since I’m the Tri Wizard Champion for Hogwarts”

“No” Anne said flatly taking her seat finally bumping shoulder to shoulder with Sebastian

“Yes?” He responded cautiously

“Merlin…I could cry! She flung her arms around his neck “Congratulations! Oh I’m so proud”

“You don’t think it’s foolish?” he choked out

“Not at all. I’d be pretty hypocritical, you know I’ve always wanted to compete for the Tri Wizard Cup” Ominis slammed his spoon down with a smirk on his face

“So thats why you entered” he said with faux disappointment

“Surprise?” Sebastian grinned goofily. They all laughed enjoying each others company as a family.

~

At some point in the evening, Sebastian had fallen asleep curled up on the small two person sofa in the living room. How he fit was beyond anyone’s guess, limbs dangling off every available edge. Anne had retired to bed shortly after she had finished with food. One of the only remaining side effects of her curse was she was constantly tired. Ominis and Eve cleaned the table together and sat drinking tea. An Earl Grey, she kept ‘for special occasions’. Their chairs remained interlocked, despite having the table to themselves, they leant forward on their elbows together, knees touching under the table. The warm glow of candlelight from the trio of tall dinner candles bathed Ominis in a delicious amber. His head hooked downward slightly, as was his signature, and his hands wrapped around the dainty tea cup. He smiled as Eve lost all semblance of decorum at the comment he’d made, clutching a hand to her mouth.

“You can’t say things like that” she choked out a laugh. “I’ll wake sleeping beauty over there” she dabbed at the tears leaving her eyes. He sat in comfortable silence waiting for Evelyn to recover. “Oh goodness, you nearly killed me”

“I shall endeavour to finish the job next time” he smiled. Truly her laughter was the sweetest sound. “I have a question for you” he smirked

“Go on, anything for my court jester” leaning forward once more, linking her arm with his.

“What would I be looking at right now?”

Her face fell.

It had been a while since they’d played this little game. Ominis would ask this to fill silences or out of a genuine curiosity and it sometimes ended rather awkwardly. A couple of times, Sebastian would lie and say he was staring at some seventh year and that she was coming over to confront the poor boy. He’d watch in hysterics as Ominiss eyes darted around trying to figure out where to settle his eyes so as to not cause any drama, which he only indulged in if he wasn’t directly involved in. After a few mishaps with Sebastian, the game became almost exclusive to Eve and himself.

Though she wasn’t completely innocent.

She lied anytime his eyes settle over her form. With Ominis being so much taller than her and the way he lulled his head down, more often than not, his eyes would settle over her lips, her nose, her…eyes. The rare time or two Ominis had made accidental eye contact with her, she had turned to putty. His brows furrowed when she stumbled over her words and that is where the lies began. ‘Y-you’re er…looking off past my…er…shoulder’.

She was sure he knew she was lying. Anytime she would shift out from under his gaze to give an accurate description of what was behind her, she’d turn back to him and his eyes would be trained back on her. Now she knew about his ridiculous hearing, she was almost certain that he did it on purpose

Right now, was one of those times. She didn’t know if it was the candlelight or something else entirely but the way his eyes bore into her made her tell him the truth.

“My lips…” she muttered entranced by the milky opals that’s stared at her. Her voice sounded foreign to her, heavy and low. “…or perhaps my chin”

Coward

His hands slowly moved from his tea cup to her face. They were warm and the lingering smell of citrus from the tea coated his hands. His fingertips lightly dancing over her pillowy lips and they parted in response.

“You do this when you’re relaxed you know” his voice barely a whisper “Sebastian says when you’re studying, or you’re with us…content…your lips part and your eyes go wide like you’re trying not to look cold. Most of the time, he says, you have this harsh furrow to your brow and….” his fingers pushed ever so slightly on her bottom lip, forcing it up to the other. “You suck your lips into a thin line. You walk around with this face that causes students to run and hide” he laughed breathily “I find that hard to believe”

“I have been told I have a rather unapproachable face” she smiled wide against his fingers.

“This isn’t unapproachable” he swept his hands one final time over the plains of her face before cupping them under her chin.

He was…so…close. He knew Sebastian wouldn’t interrupt like last time and he could easily close that small gap between them. His chest heaved with the thought of her lips on his.

She couldn’t stop the yawn that suddenly enveloped her, his hands warm and enticing just…

He smiled before removing his hands.

“Come on, Time for bed”

She grumbled taking another sip of the Earl Grey whilst looking over the brim of her cup to the clock on the wall. She choked a little as she noticed the time, slumping against Ominiss shoulder.

“Merlin, I didn’t realise. We er…need to figure out sleeping arrangements”

“Do you have another bed? or chair…or spare bit of floor, honestly I’ll sleep just about anywhere” he chuckled, lids now heavy.

“You will not sleep on the floor you can have my bed, I’ll sleep with Anne” he coughed out a singular laugh

“No you won’t. Have you ever slept with Anne or Sebastian? You’ll end up black and blue. It’s fine you have your bed, I’ll sleep…here” he placed his hands firmly on the wooden dining chair.

“I have a comfy chair in my room…if…you don’t mind sharing”

“Of course not”

“Well… Come on then” she offered him her hand, guiding him up the unfamiliar stairs “Sleeping at the dinner table honestly, you’re like a cat” she giggled, dragging him through her bedroom door.

She pulled the chair closer to her bed and gathered some blankets for him “you can put your legs up on the bed, I don’t mind and you can use these” she placed the little parcel of plush bedding into his hands. They stood awkwardly in front of each other for a moment.

“Would you like me to leave whilst you get undressed?” He asked his cheeks turning a vague pinkish colour in the little light from the moonlight.

“N-no it’s okay. You can’t see me anyway” she tried to alleviate the tension in the room with humour. Why was this so awkward? They’d slept on each other multiple times in the common room. How was sharing a room, not touching worse? Is it because it’s her bedroom?

Grow Up Evelyn…

He circled around her to sit in the chair, legs spread and hands gripping the arms of the chair. She puttered around making her bed and removing the laundry when she looked up at him.

Why did he look like that? She’d never seen that look in his eyes before.

“Then why…” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him “haven’t you taken off your clothes” his eyes seemed to darken.

Oh…

He didn’t mean to sound like that. Merlin, he couldn’t recognise his own voice. It was only meant to be a coy little joke. They’d made vaguely amourous comments to each other before always, always in jest, much to Ominiss chagrin. But this was…different. He’d let himself get too worked up in the fantasy of claiming her lips and now he was acting like a beast.

He listened intently to the sounds of clothing hitting the floor, counting them out and trying to imagine what each piece could be. Shirt? Trousers? Underwear?….

Then silence.

The thought of her being naked in the same room as him set his mind racing.

What has gotten into you? This is her home and you’re acting like an animal!

This was indecent. She deserved better than this. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the chair, formulating an apology for his behaviour when…

“Could you help me?” She muttered, suddenly feeling her presence looming over him.

“Of course” his voice still hoarse, he tried to ignore the affects that she had on him and hoped that she couldn’t hear it, or at least thought it was due to a lack of sleep.

But her request wasn’t going to help matters.

“Thank you. I just need the buttons undoing on this dress, I can’t…quite…urgh”

“You are asking a blind man to help you with buttons?” He chuckled, his normal lithe tone returning slowly to his voice.

“Honestly if this wasn’t Poppys I’d say rip me out of the damn thing but…probably best I don’t return it to her in scraps”

What is going on tonight? Was she sent specifically to tempt him? He contemplated for a second tearing the clothing away from her skin and throwing the money at Poppy next time they met.

Until he remembered the reason he hadn’t properly attempted to court her.

His name.

Whilst he was still a Gaunt and whilst his family were still, unfortunately, involved in his life, she was in immediate danger. He’d chastised himself many times when rumours spread about the two of them being involved and he’d received an owl almost immediately from his mother asking who this girl was he had been seen with. Thankfully his silver tongue, that worked so masterfully on faculty, also seemed to work on his family and they quickly dropped any forced proposals and further questions once he revealed she was, in fact, muggle-born. Oh. So not worth their time. He obviously disagreed with their stance on her but if it saved her from any unwanted visits to Hogwarts from the Gaunt Family, it was worth it.

Besides,

He had plans in place that meant his self appointed ban would be lifted soon enough. And then he could treat her exactly how she deserved. How he had always wanted to, even if he had indulged a little more than he had thought. Thoughts of her skin beneath his fingers and chaste kisses littered his mind, the smell of her hair when she slept upon his chest…

His thoughts were interrupted when she took his hands and placed them on her waist.

“Can you get them?” She bought him back to the here and now.

“I’m on it” he rose from the chair to loom over her from behind. He was quiet for a second before she felt the slight release of tension from around her midsection. She sighed at the growing sense of comfort returning to her.

“Thank you so much” she hummed

“Is this why you don’t usually wear dresses?” He asked breathily, concentrating on the infuriatingly fiddly buttons lining her spine.

“Mmmm I hate the things. But muggle culture is a little more…strict than the wizarding world. There’s no way Imelda would handle the muggle world. With her backchatting and abrasive behaviour…” she sighed “I’m so glad I’m a witch”

“Me too” his breath tickled her neck as he undid the last button. He hooked his fingers underneath the fabric, feeling for any other connections between the panels. The backs of his fingers gliding effortlessly down the bare skin of her back.

“Are you not going to get comfortable?” She asked meekly pulling away from him to remove the dress “You can have your shirt back that you gave me. I use it to sleep in anyway and you’ve given me….mmmm…roughly 4 over the years. I won’t go without” he heard the innocent smile in her voice and felt her presence in front of him once again. “I don’t have any bottoms for you though I’m afraid” she pressed the shirt into his chest

“Thank you, I’m going to read for a little I…Merlin’s beard you’ve worn this to within an inch of its life” he felt the fabric handed to him. He knew it was once a formal shirt once given to her after a potions incident ruined all of hers, starchy and stiff, and now it’s soft panels were adorned with tiny holes from being washed too many times. She giggled.

“I like it. It’s comfortable” she yawned and he heard her climb into her bed, her voice suddenly muffled by her pillow “They used to smell like you but they don’t anymore…its sad…you smell…so nice…and it’s…mmmm”

Ominis heard her breathing slow rapidly and her idle chatter was replaced with soft barely audible snores. He smiled.

“Goodnight, love”

[jackiequick]

What If The Dagger Squad Were Teachers Headcanons… 👩‍🏫📚👨‍🏫

Happy Teacher Appreciation Week! 📓

—> If you haven’t seen the last post yet, it was What If The Daggers Were YouTubers 🎥

— Starting this out by saying Iceman is the Principal while Slider is Vice Principal of Top Gunner High School 🛩 and Maverick is one of older teachers there, also the Driver’s Ed instructor as well. Now onto the Daggers!

Mr Rooster Bradshaw ~ Music Teacher 🎶

Mr. Bradshaw classroom is a pretty chill environment but it can get kinda chilly due to the AC being on or windows being open sometimes. It’s a very simple set up with posters on the wall, instruments played neatly in alphabetical order and plenty of notes on his write board with the lesson plan.

Bradley easily a very tough but patient teacher, always trying to be very gentle and patient with his students even if they can roughly annoy him sometimes. He’s tough and will call out a child if they’re not being best behavior with the others students, he wants everyone to be treated fairly in his classroom!

In the very front of his classroom, nearby the whiteboard and SMART board, Mr Bradshaw has a gorgeous black cherry one of a kind piano. And he will play that thing every single Friday for his students as everyone sang ���Great Balls Of Fire’ as loudly as they want! They also has his students play songs on the piano and other instruments too of course.

Rooster tends to take a lot of requests from his students and staff for songs to play everyday they come into the classroom. He labeled it ‘Bradshaw School Playlist’ as hooks it up to the speakers every time he can.

Speaking of song requests, Rooster always takes songs from the suggestion box in the front of the classroom and depending on the song, that will be the song they analyze that day for class.

Mr Hangman Seresin ~ Gym 👟

One of the youngest P.E./Gym teachers in the school and he takes that with pride. He knows he’s one of the young teacher for standard stereotypical ones are supposed to look like but he doesn’t care. Since Hangman a lot more active he’s able to keep up with the young students physically, mentally and emotionally!

He knows all about jokes and fun Tumblr fan pages the students created about him & Mr Rooster. Hell, he encourages it! His students laugh and tease the teachers for their tension haha. Especially the winks Jake leaves Bradley with sometimes during the school week.

Anyways, back to teacher stuff! Jake is a simple and fun gym teacher, every three weeks he has his students playing all the sports and games he can think of. Volleyball, baseball, mini basketball tournaments, hockey, tennis, ping pong, football games outside in the field and etc.

And if you wonder about Time Of The Month, Jake totally understands! He grew up with sisters, a sweet southern mama and a few girlfriends to know how annoyingly painful periods can be. He will let the girls sit on the sidelines of the gym if needed.

Mr Phoenix Trace & Mr Bob Floyd ~ Social Studies & History 📕📗📘

These two have their classrooms next to one another, so it made it easier to keep track of each other’s students while also popping in to chat. Sending their students into classrooms to collect or swap sheets with.

Social Studies with Phoenix is a fun one, she tends to challenge, joke around and teases her students with questions during class to see who was paying attention and who wasn’t (You know who you are!!). She wants all her students to pay attention and treat people with plenty of respect.

Phenix is very helpful as a teacher and always listens to her students. She’s very open to hear them out and give them suggestions or cut them some slack if needed. She’s the Mama Bear of the teachers, cause she has such a big heart!

History with Bob is pretty a chill one, he tends to play music in the background as the students work on their classwork (and whatever was leftover sometimes will be homework on Fridays). Bob always has his eyes and hears on high alert, so he might catch you quickly, if he sees your doing something your not supposed to be doing.

Bob takes participation very seriously as he likes if everyone can communicate, interact nicely and understand the lessons. Sharing thoughts and answering questions. Even coming up to the SMART Board to explain and demonstrate certain topics of history. Bob doesn’t tolerate misbehavior and rude people in his classroom, especially if a teacher or fellow students is presenting something to the class. So be nice! 

Mr. Fanboy Garcia ~ Science teacher 🔬

One of young nerdy science teacher, he tends to try to dabble in teaching a bit everything over the years. But the ones the schools will give him are Biologically and Earth Science, with some Chemistry too.

Fanboy always treats his students with care and respect, expecting the same thing in return. If there’s no respect or everyone is misbehaving in his classroom, you wouldn’t get the happy and somewhat loud teacher. He will be quiet and annoyed, everyone will get memo to act better.

He’s the teacher to nerd out about certain things in between class and if he’s able to incorporate his love for fandoms into the classroom he would. Fanboy will joke around and mention Marvel, DC, Star Wars, Star Trek and etc during lessons to get the point across. Some students will catch onto it and smiles, others might be confused until he explains it in between the lessons.

Those tricky science tests? Well if the class is good enough and depending on the exam, they will be an open book test with notes. Fanboy wants to see who’s actually paying attention and taking notes, and who’s not. So he can re-teach and go over certain topics later on.

Mr Payback Fitch - English teacher 💻

This man one of the chill teachers in this school. So in result his classroom tends to be be very relax and entertaining for his students. Payback tends to have books to read, notebooks to use, sheets of papers in his closet, pens and pencil in the front of the classroom and etc. Along with posters on the wall to help with tips and tricks for writing and reading.

He’s very causal with his students and treats them plenty of patients and support during lessons. He expects the same in return, to have respect and patience with him.

Payback enjoys teaching his students all about writing stories, reading chapters of books their using to the class, explaining themes and ideas, the passion and mindset behind a character, points of view and the list goes on.

He tends to play movies in his classrooms usually they were related to the lessons but sometimes they were used as talking points. As for projects, he has one very specific project he enjoys doing, Shakespeare Fair! Each grade is given a Shakespeare book to reads, have lessons based on and a project to do. This is where he gets to see the creativity of all the students in the school shine!

Mr Coyote Machado - Art Teacher 🎨

Get your sketch books and art supplies out because you will be taking note here. This man is cocky, sweet and a gentlemen, he will joke and call you out on your shit if he notice something ain’t fitting the vibe to the grooves of the classroom.

Coyote is the type of teacher that encourages creativity and critical thinking. His classroom is where students can experiment, make mistakes and learn from each other. Use that mind of theirs!

Each month he puts up two interesting fact about Art to impress and inspire everyone. He doesn’t want his students to give, he wants them to try and try until they feel satisfied with them. Or to at least say they tried!

His art class consist mainly of class projects and assignment reflecting a certain degree of styles. Painting, pop art, cubism, contemporary, fantasy, impressionist and etc. He tends to encourage his students to use the supplies and examples in the room to help with inspiration. Also well as the music Coyote tends to play from his speakers from his computer. He usually takes music requests!

—-

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy it and happy Teacher Appreciation Week 👩‍🏫👨‍🏫

Tags: @mandylove1000 @gaminggirlsstuff @t-nd-rfoot @fanboygarcia @topgun-imagines @rooster-84 @hangmanbrainrot @bradshawsbaby @gcthvile @msrochelleromanofffelton @hanlueluver @starkleila and etc

[mysterystarz]

match up exchange post

for @shxtodxroki because we came to a cool deal so hi there bee <3

you’re actually extremely cool i really enjoyed learning about you because you’re actually awesome

anyways………

after careful deliberation, i’ve chosen to match you with……..

IWAIZUMI HAJIME !!!

runners up: kuroo tetsuro, yamaguchi tadashi

WHY DID I PICK THIS PAIRING?

when i was reading your info, i noticed a lot of softer qualities and a lot of deep and insightful thoughts. literally iwaizumi was the first person who popped into my head because truthfully, i think he would absolutely adore you (let me dive into this)

we all know iwaizumi is dependable. he’s shown time and time again that he can pick up the slack for seijoh when oikawa needs it. he also grows up to be a sexy athletic trainer which means his job is literally caring for people.

i think when he meets you, iwaizumi would genuinely be fascinated by you. i feel like you’re the type of people to have a class together and are paired up for group work simply because of seat proximity. you share some small talk and work on projects and slowly get to know each other. when you open up to him and start rambling about your interests, he’s a goner and he’s in love.

i feel like iwaizumi would absolutely love a soft s/o. you’ve got a lot of amazing qualities and values, and he likes how you’re sentimental. i feel like he’d also be a sentimentalist as well (can imagine you guys sitting on the couch and looking at remnants of past — you and your merch and him and his jerseys)

he is absolutely a conversationalist when it comes to you and would absolutely have a back and forth with you!! he is also super methodical so i think he could also help with your procrastination!

i also think he’d just adore your major. you’re studying something super cool and i just know he’d like to hear all about it.

speaking of love languages — this man will melt for your gifts. anytime you give him a thoughtful token he will literally treasure it with his entire soul. he loves whatever you give him and is always honored to be the object of your affection. even better, iwa-chan is literally the poster child for acts of service and physical touch! he would absolutely do gestures of love for you and reassure you that you’re amazing. his entire presence tends to be pretty soothing and i just know he’d be really understanding about your anxiety and always make sure you feel okay.

he is definitely out and proud with his partner. it’s a subtle way but he is in no way ashamed of you. you will hear from tooru that he thinks about you all the time. he is patient and caring and would absolutely take care of the bugs for you. i can also imagine him watching movies with you in his free time (i think he would also suggest godzilla at least once — indulge him)

and yes swapping playlists too! anytime you’re on drives i feel like the two of you would swap playlists. also spotify blend <3 he enjoys mixing your taste with his and carries it with him.

he’s a soft and patient lover, and i just know he would absolutely ADORE YOU.

SOME QUICK HEADCANONS

- iwaizumi would ABSOLUTELY start to read whatever mangas and watch whatever shows you like. it’s his way of staying connected to you.

- will lend you his hoodies as a subtle act of “hey you see bee. that’s my girl.”

- finds all your merch absolutely adorable. will take the time to learn the history behind each and every single one.

- he’d find your love of teaching just so amazing.

- he love love loves your pink hair. if you’re into hairstyles he would totally learn them just to have the chance to feel it and pop a forehead kiss on you

a song i think would be cute for you two is:

fluorescent adolescent from artic monkeys - light and energetic like your relationship

another potential song could be the walker by fitz and the tantrums

oh and maybe even body talk by red velvet

[storiesofsvu]

Journey to the Past Ch 23

Bryan Kneef x reader

It was very safe to say that the next week was one hell of an awkward one. You were irritated that you weren’t able to get into a doctor right away, wanting to get this sorted out as soon as possible but the earliest appointment you could snag was Friday at four in the afternoon. The pessimist side of you was certain that the tests had been flukes, that this was a warning sign of something worse going on in your reproductive system, another bad cyst or something of the like. Maybe the tests had been expired, you’d forgotten to even check until you were sitting in your office on Monday pretending to work. You were thankful at least that you still had your apartment, able to spend some extra hours in the office and blame the late night and not wanting to drive across town to avoid Bryan, not wanting to let him know and thus panic before you had confirmation. You hated it, having to spend a full week in limbo, but your hope wasn’t very high considering your history and none of that was affecting anything positively.

You were even more thankful with just how patient he was with you, giving you the space without asking too many questions, accepting the excuse of a long hard week of work, overwhelmed with cases. He still went out of his way to drive up to your firm, making sure you had lunch (and a fresh coffee you pretended to sip at while he was still there) and were taken care of. You knew that he loved you no matter what and was just hoping that would extend to your current stipulation. You’d spent a couple of nights at his place (that was now both of yours), but retired to bed early, the exhaustion setting in heavily being a nice excuse to avoid the nightly wine.

Which is exactly why on Friday Bryan had left work early to make sure the apartment was not only clean, but as close to spotless as he could get it. He knew he’d been lagging in that department this week and felt bad about it, so he did as much as he could. Laundry was tossed into the machines, sheets were changed and refreshed, the living room was tidied and vacuumed and the pile up of coffee mugs in the sink got put in the dishwasher and ran through. He’d stopped at the grocery store on the way home, picking up things for a lavish dinner including appetizers and a pricey bottle of Argentinian wine. He knew you’d had a long stressful week and wanted to make sure you were well taken care of, and he figured you probably wouldn’t want to go out tonight after it all. The appetizers were easy to take care of, setting the display up on the kitchen island so he could start on the main course, wanting it to be ready as close as possible to when you got home.

Once the chicken was in the oven he poured out a glass of leftover wine from the previous night for himself while he waited, retreating further into the house to change into something more comfortable before swapping over a load of laundry. A case file lay open on the island that he was going over when he heard the front door open and the tell tale sign of your heels on the hardwood. You rounded the corner of the hallway and let out a small sigh, a tiny smile on your cheeks when Bryan’s eyes met yours.

“Hey.” He greeted with a warm grin and you hummed in response, dropping your bag and blazer onto the couch, practically kicking off your heels before letting out a groan at the shoes no longer pinching at your feet and making a beeline to Bryan.

“Hi.” You murmured into the crook of his neck, appreciating the way his arms tightly wound around you, letting you rest in his embrace for a few moments as you let out a couple of breaths, his lips brushing against your hairline.

“Long day?”

“Long week.” You replied, finally letting go, accepting the gentle kiss he gave you.

“Well, here.” He reached around you, pouring a glass of the lavish wine out for you, handing you the glass and you let out a little sigh, turning in his arms to face the island.

“What is all this?” You asked, your brow furrowing. You could smell that he was cooking dinner from the moment you’d set foot in the apartment but hadn’t taken into account the platters set up on the island. Bryan let out a soft chuckle, wrapping you in his arms from behind, his lips kissing at your neck gently.

“I felt like you were having a bit of a rough go this week.” He murmured, his words broken up by kisses, “wanted to treat you but I figured you wouldn’t want to go out, so why not bring the fancy restaurant to you?”

“You’re too sweet.” You picked up his hand in yours, brushing your lips across his knuckles and he gently squeezed at you. Your eyes glided across the island and you couldn’t help but let out an ironic laugh at the sight, Bryan had set up a plate of oysters, a homemade charcuterie and cheese board beside it and of course, the wine.

“What?” He asked, teeth nipping at your skin, “you already knew I could cook, is this that much of a surprise to you? You know I love you.” His lips trailed across your skin as he spoke.

“I don’t know how you managed to fucking do it, but I can’t eat any of this.” You stifled another laugh, Bryan still distracted in nuzzling against your skin.

“Oh c’mon.” He chuckled, “you love oysters.”

“I do.” You nodded, “doesn’t mean I can eat them.”

“You know they’re an aphrodisiac?” He muttered, finally turning you half in his arms so he was facing you, your sides to the island as he cupped at your cheek, lips chasing after yours.

“You really think you need an aphrodisiac to get me in bed?”

“No but figured it couldn’t hurt.” One of his hands vanished from your waist, drizzling some hot sauce onto an oyster that he then sucked back, “they’re fresh, and fucking delicious.”

“Bry…” you laughed, unable to keep the grin off your cheeks at the devilish look in his eyes as he continued to tease you, shifting you in his arms again so you were facing the island and all the bits and bites.

“Try the cheese, that lavender honey goes fantastically with the blue.” He nuzzled into the crook of your neck again, “it took me an hour to figure out the fucking salami roses.” His hand started to reach out for the soft cheese and you finally found your words again.

“Give me the gruyere.”

“Knew I’d get you somehow.” He chuckled, picking up a cube and guiding it to your mouth before he shifted again to face you, his hip resting against the island, “it pairs perfectly with the wine.” He picked up your glass and your fingers gently pushed it back to the island and he let out a scoff of a laugh. “What?”

“Out of the things on this island, there’s approximately five things I can eat and that includes the pickles.”

“Did you eat already?” His brow furrowed, “Larissa said you’d left work early for something.”

“No. I—”

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he smiled, pecking your cheek softly, “settle in, have some wine, trust me, it’s a good bottle.” He slid the glass toward you again and you let out a small laugh,

“Bry, I can’t.”

“You had rough week, let the past be in the past, have some incredible wine.” He laughed, stepping toward the stove when the timer went off to move a pot off a burner. “it’s what you deserve.” He moved back to you, an arm winding around your waist while he took a sip of his own wine, “I’ve got to be able to spoil my girl, that’s all I was trying to do sweetheart.”

“I know.” You smiled softly, accepting the kiss he left on your lips.

“I’m fine if you ate without me,” his lips started to trail across your jaw, “I can eat later… cause I can definitely think of something I’d rather eat right now instead.”

“Bry!” You laughed, hands attempting to grasp at his body as his mouth began to make its way down your neck.

“What’d’you say, have some wine and relax then let me make you even more relaxed? Hmm? Enjoy the food later after you’ve worked up an appetite again?”

“Bryan…” you nudged at his chin and all he did in return was attempt to hand you the glass of wine again before burying himself in the crook of your neck, “Bry…” you couldn’t help but giggle at the sensation of his beard scratching against your skin, “Bryan, c’mon.”

“Take a sip and I’ll stop.” He murmured, his tongue soothing the spot he’d just bit and your fingers threaded into his hair in a very unsuccessful attempt to tug him off you.

“Bryan…I’m pregnant.”

The words slipped from your lips; it wasn’t exactly how you’d been planning on telling him but it seemed to be the only way to gain his full attention. Even then it took a few moments for him to actually hear you, his lips continuing to kiss at your skin before you finally felt his body tense for a second before he pulled his face from the crook of your neck.

“Wait… can you seriously not eat cheese while you’re pregnant?” He asked, a worried look on his face and you couldn’t help the bark of a laugh.

“Is that seriously your first question here?” You asked, watching the way his eyes suddenly darted from yours down to your stomach and back up. He felt the all too familiar sensation suddenly burning in his gut and start to creep up his throat as he scrambled through his thoughts to try and form proper words.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked quietly and you nodded, he felt a pang within him at the fact that you didn’t have an excited smile on your face, nor did you look like you were panicking, you were stoic, nearly unreadable in the moment. “Are… are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You let out a small breath, “Kim was freaking out last week ‘cause she was late, I took a test with her to help calm her nerves.”

“You’ve known all week?” Bryan stilled in front of you, a moment of irritation flashing over his features and you gave him a knowing glance as you let out a huff.

“No.” You shook your head, gently squeezing at his hand “I was certain it was a false positive. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure. I didn’t want to freak you out for no reason and I mean, there might still not be any reason to freak out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I may have cleared the twelve week mark but considering my age and history, who knows how things’ll turn out.” You watched as his brow furrowed, the wheels turning in his head, “what?” Your voice suddenly soft, timid as it left your lips, worry etching its way across your face before Bryan glanced back up at you.

“You’re three months along?”

“Almost four.” You replied, wringing your hands, “listen…” your hand met his lapel gently, “I know there’s a lot to unpack here…” you felt the butterflies building in your gut, terrified that you were about to lose the man you loved because of your decision. “Even if I wanted to, it’s too late to terminate. But this is what I’ve always wanted, a baby, a family… I thought I’d lost that opportunity nearly a decade ago.” Tears began to blur into your eyes, “but sometimes life kicks our asses in the greatest way and gives us the second chance we never thought we’d have. I’m having this baby. And I know that might not be what you imagined for your future, so I understand if this is the end for us.”

Bryan looked up at you with an unreadable expression on his face, you could see the slight pain deep in his eyes but weren’t sure exactly where it was coming from. He on the other hand saw nothing but worry in yours, knowing just how many things you were probably terrified of right now. His hand shifted to cup at your cheek, thumb stroking at your skin gently before he spoke.

“I told you I wanted a future with you.” He said gently, his voice impeccably soft as his chest swelled, “no matter what kind of future that is, I still want it.” He felt you let out a breath, your shoulders sagging in relief as your body relaxed in front of him, “I may have a lot of reluctance in myself as a father but I know you’ll be the most incredible mother in the entire world. It may take some baby steps on my behalf but I know you’ll be able to help me become the parent our baby deserves.”

“Our baby…” You nearly whispered, looking up at him with a happy smile.

“We’re having a baby…” He let out a bright laugh and you shrieked as he suddenly pulled you to him in a tight hug, lifting you up off the floor as you laughed. He only let go of you when the timer for the oven went off and he let out a quiet swear, reluctantly stepping away from you to pull the tray from the oven and grab plates from the cupboard as you crossed through the room. You grabbed your purse, crossing back over to the island.

“Smells amazing.”

“Oh fuck.” Bryan swore, his head shooting in your direction, “can you have cream cheese? It’s cooked?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his sheer innocence on the subject at hand considering just how brilliant his brain was when it came to the legal world.

“Yes I can.”

“You said almost four months…” Despite being calm Bryan also felt his mind going a million miles a minute as it raced through everything he did know about babies and pregnancy, “isn’t that when people start telling people?”

“Yeah,” you let out a small sigh, “but I’d really rather not do that yet.” He noticed the shyness in your voice, the way you nearly wrapped around yourself as you leant against the island and he stepped toward you, tilting your chin up to find a misting of tears in your eyes, a frown tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Hey… hey…” he assured softly, a hand resting on your hip, “I thought this was supposed to be a happy thing, why the melancholy face?”

“I’m scared.” You admitted after a minute, your voice doing its best not to shake, “I’m in my forties, I had a huge struggle getting pregnant before…this probably isn’t going to be an easy walk in the park or anything… all the risks are higher, I swear I got a bigger stack of brochures about the risks than the positives.”

“Are there any they’re particularly worried about right now?” He asked and you shook your head, “was it just a pregnancy test today?”

“It was the one thing after another. I explained the test I took, my history, they did another test, a blood test and then rushed me for an ultrasound.” You reached out, grabbing at his arm, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you I just didn’t have time and didn’t know how to explain everything over the phone, I would’ve much rather had you been there.”

“They did an ultrasound?”

“Yeah…” your hands slipped into your purse, flitting through until you pulled the small black and white photograph from within it, placing it down on the island in front of Bryan, “so far it’s one happy healthy baby…”

“Oh shit…” he almost timidly reached out for it, picking it up off the counter before his eyes flitted between it and your stomach, finally meeting your gaze as his hand reached out to stroke at your cheek, “and mom?”

“Healthy.” You nodded, the smile unable to be restrained as you nodded and Bryan let out a sigh of relief, kissing your forehead before he turned around, pinning the ultrasound to the fridge with a magnet and turned back to you, cupping your cheeks.

“Then we take the rest of this one day at a time.” He kissed you softly, “I’ll do everything I can to catch myself up to speed, but in the meantime we’ve got the money, we’ve got the connections, you’re going to have the best doctors in the country, we’ll run every test that’s safe for the baby and we’re going to do this.”

“Are you sure?” Tears began to blur into your eyes as a tiny laugh escaped your lips, “you really want this?”

“I do.” He kissed you gently, “you’re my future. And now this little bean is too.” One of his hands dropped to your stomach, resting gently there for a moment before your hand curved over top of his, fingers slipping between his.

“We’re having a baby….” You whispered, pure adoration pouring from your eyes up to his as he smiled back down at you, feeling his chest about to explode with the total and complete love wrapping around the two of you in that moment, only able to press a tender kiss to your lips before he replied.

“We’re having a baby.”

_____________________________

@detective-giggles @plaidbooks @thatesqcrush @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @bisexual-dreamer02 @amelia-song-pond @madamsnape921 @whimsicallymad @mrsrafaelbarba @mysticfalls01 @ssaic-jareau @caracalwithchips @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirll @beardedbarba @michael-rooker @rafivadafreddy @lustvolle-liebe @anlin2058 @fandom-princess-forevermore @tinyboxxtink @alexusonfire @xovalliegirlxo @somethingimaginative17 @momlifebehard @misscharlielulu @fighterkimburgess

[castrovulcant]

[Image description: meme from "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." Two men stand next to each other and squint suspiciously at someone in the foreground and say: "That doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about House to dispute it." /end image description]

i love how many ships there are featuring murders, cannibals, supervillians, w/e that nevertheless fail to hold a problematic candle to house/wilson. I mean like there are characters who have stabbed one another who have a healthier “thing” going on than those two. i don’t think about them often but I see a gifset and I’m like WOW remember the time when house——-

[mothettte]

I think the biggest problem we have with this whole entire case is lack of psychological documentation.

We know Eric was on Zoloft and claimed the medication was not working. Causing suicidal and homicidal thoughts. Luvox is an Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI), which is usually prescribed to those to treat OCD. It’s an anti-depressant overall. Serotonin is a chemical released in the brain that can affect mood and behavior. SSRIs work by enhancing the brain's ability to use serotonin.

It is widely known that SSRI’s in high therapeutical dosages, can cause more psychological issues, issues it’s supposed to treat. (I myself was a victim to shitty side effects of SSRI’s. Finding out they do more worse than good for me.)

It does not shock me that Eric was then prescribed Luvox, another SSRI. Many psychiatrists do end up swapping meds, upping/lowering doses, when one causes issues.

During the time of Eric’s autopsy, 390 ng/ml of Luvox was found in his toxicology report. The highest/average prescribed dosage one can be taking of Luvox safely.

The human brain does not fully develop until the age of 25. Studies show that patients <24 on SSRI’s are known to have an increased risk of suicidal ideation and behavior. Though from research, we know that Eric truly didn’t want to die per say. Thoughts do not equal action. I have personal belief that Eric needed a more thorough psychological evaluation. Not in the case of a inpatient care, but one on one examination.

Eric wasn’t a psychopath. He just a teenage boy who suffered from mental illness. This is not me sitting here playing as if he was a victim, yes and no, but he was a kid. Think of Ted Bundy. The one person who was officially evaluated and dubbed “The Father of Psychopathy.” (In recent years, Bundy had been dubbed a sociopath instead due to his ability to form relationships with others, having exhibited empathy, which psychopaths are not capable of)

Sociopaths are created by their environmental upbringing. Hence “Socio” as in “Sociology.”

“in the DSM 5 Guidebook: The Essential compassion to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, sociopaths are defined as having a tendency of doing harmful actions towards others.”

Sociopaths feel regret and remorse. But don’t think before acting out. In which is now labeled as ASPD, or Antisocial Personality Disorder.

In brain scans of psychopaths, the area of the brain that feels empathy does not light up. They cannot form bonds with others.

Eric had once stated on April 11th, 1999 in REB’s Tape, “I wish I was a fucking sociopath so I didn’t have any remorse, but I do. This is going to tear them apart.” Followed by “To all you coolios out there still alive, sorry I hurt you or your friends.”

This is not the behavior of someone who is a psychopath. If anything, Eric was exhibiting sociopathic tendencies created by the environment he was subjected to on top of his existing conditions.

Dave Cullen has actively destroyed the narrative of Eric and Dylan. Eric being a psychopath and Dylan being a string along oh so depressed bitch to Eric. Randy Brown is not helping the narrative by claiming the same story but in his own view. Cullen didn’t know Eric and Dylan personally. Randy only knowing a childhood version of Dylan. Each of them are not reputable sources, Randy only on some accounts. Their own views and opinions get in the way of the factual natures of the case, tarnishing the minds of the individuals trying to learn about it.

Randy is too attached to the idea that Dylan was murdered, when his suicidal history lays out in front of him. And the idea Eric is “Evil” is garbage. Yes, he and Dylan killed people. Once again, they were humans suffering prior to the attack. There is reason behind the attack. They became “evil” or “the monster next door.”

Whenever I discuss the case, I will always say “in my opinion” before I end up talking about my speculations. Speculations and opinions do not correlate to facts, unless proven true.

We need to actively straighten out the facts from the opinions. We cannot allow this case to continuously become multiple conspiracy theories. It’s just hurting those affected by it more and more if it continues… and it’s not just the killers conspiracies, it also involves the victims conspiracies and clawing for public sympathy with false story lines.

[sparkypantaloons]

A Storm

“I promise you.” Bruce had said. “If you come home, I will keep you safe. I will keep them safe. I will keep us whole. I promise.”

Tim is taken. Each of his family react differently.

There’s a rushing in Tim’s ears. Like a waterfall. It’s so loud he can’t see. Can that happen? Can noise affect sight? He doesn’t know.

There’s a hand on his back. Gentle, but firm. He thinks maybe someone is talking to him, but he can’t see. He can’t see anything over the rushing in his ears.

No, that’s not right. He needs to start again. Try again. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, covers his ears, takes a deep breath.

“Tim?” Is it Bruce? Someone’s hands are on Tim’s arms, pulling his hands from his head. The person in front of him is stooping slightly, so they can look him in the eye. “Can you hear me?”

“'m fine.” Tim says. But his eyes can’t focus, it’s too loud in here. “I just need, I… just need t’sleep.” He grimaces, the noise too bright for his eyes.

There’s more sound then. Voices he thinks, but he’s not sure. He can’t see who they belong to. Then there’s a hand around his ankle, gripping him roughly. He flinches in the hold, starts to struggle as his shoes are removed. Then his socks. What is going on?

His feet? What about his feet? He tries to speak, but it’s so loud in here, he can’t form the words. A forehead presses against his, green eyes bore into his own. Jason?

Hands hold his feet to the floor, press down. More talking. It could be shouting now.

The hands let go of his feet. Move to his face. “Your feet, Timmy. Concentrate on your feet.”

Tim opens his eyes. Jason is still there, his bright green eyes, searching and insistent. “'m home?” Tim mumbles.

“Concentrate on your feet, Timmy. What can you feel?”

Tim closes his eyes again. His feet. He can feel… wood. Wooden floor. Wooden floorboards and the thin gaps between them. The Manor floor. The Manor.

“Yeah, Timmy.” Jason says. His hands move from Tim’s face, pull the teenager into a bear hug. “You’re home. You’re home.”

~~

Leslie pushes her glasses back up her nose. Lets out a sigh. “It’s just going to take time, Bruce.” She says. She’s firm, as always. But there’s a softness in her eyes. A sadness. “Like all things.”

Bruce doesn’t speak. Just rubs his face with his hands. Hangs his head.

“Why is he so disorientated?” Dick asks. His right hand is still bandaged up, swollen, but it’s no longer bleeding through.

Jason sucks his teeth from where he’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. Leslie and Dick both ignore him.

“Sensory deprivation, especially for so long-- it can take a little while to recover.” Leslie is matter of fact. There’s no point mincing her words. “You have to take it slow.”

“Touch is best to start with.” Jason says, pushing himself off the wall. “It’s grounding.”

Dick, Leslie and Bruce look over at him. He shrugs. “It worked for me.”

A pained look crosses Dick’s face. Leslie interrupts before he can speak. “Let Tim lead, let him set the pace.” Her words hang in the air. “It’ll take time. But he’s strong.” She says. “He’ll pull through.”

~~

Dick wakes up in a sweat, breathless. His right hand is throbbing. He tries to flex his fingers, flinches as his broken knuckles protest. It’s not the worst injury he’s ever had. Not by far. But the way he got it…

He shakes his head, tries to dislodge the memory of a shattered eye-socket, a dislocated jaw, a cracked skull. Tries to shed the jarring realisation that he broke his hand on a man’s face. Tries to make himself at least feel a sense of responsibility for the damage done. He doesn’t.

He makes his way to the kitchen, pads barefoot through the Manor. He pulls an ice-pack out of the freezer, holds it on his aching fist. The cold seeps into his joints, consumes the burn of displaced bone and absent guilt. He feels calmer.

Touch is grounding, Jason had said. Dick doesn’t want to think about how the younger man, his younger brother, knew that. Doesn’t want to know which one of a lifetime of traumatic experiences had taught him that little gem. But he can’t dispute it. The touch of the cold helps.

He makes his way back upstairs. Turns left, instead of right. To Tim’s room.

The door is pulled to. The most Alfred would allow. Bruce had been adamant about staying by Tim’s side, so had Jason, so had Dick. Alfred had refused all of them.

“Wayne Manor is the safest, most secure building on the eastern seaboard, if not the entire continent. None of you will do Master Timothy any good if you don’t get some sleep. He will be safe, in the meantime.”

Bruce had tried to protest, Jason had made threats, all but hissed at Alfred’s suggestion. The older man hadn’t budged. “I will stay with Master Timothy. In case he wakes.”

He wasn’t wrong. They needed rest, all of them. The search had been… long. Too long. Desperate, and increasingly frantic with each passing hour. And there had been so many hours.

He swallows down a memory. Of the howl that felt like it had been ripped out of his soul when they found Tim. Dick hadn’t even realised the noise had come from his own mouth, didn’t notice the tears of rage on his own face, as he took his hands to the men holding Tim captive. Broke his hands on the men who had taken his brilliant, darling brother. Locked him in the dark, alone, for too, too long.

Dick hovers outside Tim’s door. Holds his ear to the wood. He can’t hear anything over his own breathing, his own heartbeat.

“Just open it, Dickhead.” It’s Jason. He's dressed in a spare pair of Bruce’s pyjamas. Despite his size they're somehow still too big for him. It makes him look young. Too young. Dick stares at him for a moment before doing as he says.

The pair of them fill the doorway. Wait as their eyes adjust to the light in the room. Gloomy shadows fall in through the window; the blinds have been left open. Dick’s eyes scan the bed but his ears hear Jason’s breathing hitch. He feels the younger man go rigid beside him, knows his own body has responded the same. Because Tim is gone. Again.

Panic forces itself into what little space is between them, and Dick is only vaguely aware that Jason is gripping his wrist. Holding him too tightly, clinging onto him as though he’s scared one of them will disappear too.

A small cough brings them back to their senses. Alfred. The older man is sat in the corner of the room, by the window. A patient vigil in the dark. He nods to the far side of the bed.

Jason all but drags Dick with him as he marches into the room. They stop just past the bed. Tim is asleep on the floor. He’s curled into a ball, a single sheet held tight over his head. Dick only knows it’s him from the tuft of hair that’s sticking out.

He feels Jason let go of his wrist. The younger man stumbles backwards. He nods to Alfred then leaves the room, gone as quick as he entered.

Dick watches him go, a new worry blooming in his chest. He looks at Alfred, and the older man shakes his head sadly.

~~

Jason is in his old room. His old en-suite more accurately. His knees protest against the tile as he wretches into the toilet.

I am safe, I am warm, I am whole.

He repeats the words in his mind like a mantra. Tries to control his breathing. He fails. Another wave of nausea has him wretching again. Acid burning its way up his throat.

A hand presses to his back and he flinches. He hadn’t heard anyone come in. Bruce places a glass of water on the floor beside him, pushes his hair back from his face.

Jason wipes his mouth on his sleeve, takes a shaky sip of water. Bruce rubs circles on his back.“Don’t.” Jason croaks, and he hates himself when the warmth of the hand is removed. He looks up at Bruce. “You promised you’d keep them safe.” He says, and he can’t keep the hurt out of his voice. Can’t keep the tears from his eyes. “You promised.”

“I know.” Bruce says. He pulls the younger man into a hug, holds him tight against his chest. “I’m sorry.” His son’s tears soak through his shirt.

~~

Jason doesn’t know how long they sit there. Tangled limbs on the cold, hard tiles of the bathroom floor. Only knows that he needs Bruce to let go. He pulls himself out of his father’s arms, pushes himself to his feet. He needs to brush his teeth.

Bruce sits on the floor behind him, as Jason scrubs the bile and acid from his mouth. He presses too hard with the toothbrush, can taste the copper of blood against mint. But the dig of the bristles in the soft flesh of his gums is grounding. Reminds him he’s still alive.

I am safe, I am warm, I am whole.

Jason can remember sleeping on the floor. He’s slept on so many of them. The dingy corner of their apartment growing up, when all they could afford was a single mattress and Willis refused to let him share. The cardboard box by one of the subway vents behind the old Monarch Theatre. The floor of this very bedroom, the bed too soft for him to sleep in, threatening to drown him as soon as he fell asleep. Then the streets again, when he had wandered aimlessly after his death.

He can remember the dark too. Of being locked in a closet and forgotten for days at a time, when his infant crying became too much for Willis. Of his eyes swollen shut as the Joker beat the life out of him. Of his coffin, as he lay there screaming for Bruce to save him.

Jason’s life was a short but terrible history of hard floors and dark rooms and Tim’s was never meant to be like that.

They’d found him in all but a box, eight feet by eight feet by eight feet. There were no windows, the door had been soldered shut. He was being fed once a day. Some bread and water slid through a hatch in the wall, and a bucket too. Swapped out every 24 hours. Nobody ever spoke to him, nobody ever asked anything of him. No-one ever demanded anything from them either, neither The Bats, nor The Waynes.

He spits into the sink. Toothpaste pink with blood. He rinses his mouth. Splashes his face. Takes a deep breath.

They just took him and kept him. Because they could.

Jason had known people like that too, once. If he clings to it, it’s the only thought that makes him grateful Tim has been left alone for so long. Even as it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Coming home, coming back to his family had been as painful and awful as clawing himself out of his own grave. An endless fight against the pit and its madness, that drove him to hurt the people he loved. An ongoing battle against the deep, deep wound in his heart that The Joker still lived. And a terrifying, haunting fear that he would lose them again. That after all they had been through, after he finally got his family back, they would be taken from him and he would be alone once more.

“I promise you.” Bruce had said. “If you come home, I will keep you safe. I will keep them safe. I will keep us whole. I promise.”

Jason turns away from the sink. Walks back into his room. Leaves Bruce sat on the cold, tiled floor.

~~

Eventually Bruce pulls himself to his feet. Jason’s room is empty when he passes through. He doesn’t allow himself to wonder where he might have gone. Of all the broken promises he has made to Jason, he knows this one has hurt his son the most. That Jason’s single biggest fear is losing the family he has so desperately longed for, both of his lives. That Jason would rather never love at all, than love and lose it all over again. This time had been too close. For Jason. For all of them.

It had taken them too long to get a lead on where Tim was being held. Far too long. And even then, they couldn’t confirm an exact location. They’d had no choice but to split up. Cass, and Damian had joined the Titans on the West Coast. Dick and Jason had come with him on the East.

He pulls out his phone, checks on the location of Cass and Damian for the nineteenth time that night. They’re making steady progress. Will be in Gotham before sunrise. His arms ache with a desperate need to hold them, know that they are safe. To have the physical proof, that all his children are alive and breathing, in his hands.

It had taken him a long time to let go of Tim once they found him. To pass his sweet, brilliant boy over to Leslie, so she could check him over. Confirm he was okay.

Tim was older now than Jason had been when he… Tim was older, but he had still felt just as small and young and broken, when Bruce had lifted him out of that box they’d kept him in. Out of the darkness. His body weak and trembling.

It had been Tim who had been taken, but Bruce had looked at the body in his arms and seen Robin, limbs twisted and broken. Seen Nightwing, lips blue and heart stopped by a hand held to his face. Seen another Robin, sword run through him, splitting his battered body almost in two. Seen Red Robin, riddled with bullet holes, blood running out of every one. He had held Tim and seen everyone of his children dead in his arms. An endless cacophony of death.

He reaches Tim’s room. Stands in the doorway and hopes that Alfred can’t see him in the darkness. He tries to remember back to when he took Dick in. Tries to recall what, in the name of all the Gods, had possessed him to allow his child, his children, out into the night with him. Tries to remember how he reached the conclusion that he could risk their single precious lives for his own crusade. How he could risk their safety for a single second.

He steps into the room. Hears Alfred sigh from his seat by the window.

“Don’t ask me to leave.” Bruce croaks out. His throat is tight, trying to hold a tidal wave of emotion at bay. “Don’t.”

Alfred stands. “Of course not.” He says softly, and he gestures to where Tim is sleeping on the floor. “Did you get any sleep?” He asks.

Bruce doesn’t respond. Just stares down at Tim, eighteen but looking for all the world like the ten year old who had shown up on Bruce’s doorstep all those years ago. The sheet is twisted round his limbs, his face screwed into a frown.

“Why is he on the floor?” Bruce asks. Though he has a good idea already.

Alfred takes a steadying breath. “He’s been…” He pauses. “He’s been sleeping on the floor so long, it’s what he’s used to n—“ He cuts himself off abruptly, turns to the window away from Bruce.

Bruce feels a burn in his throat. Knows that Alfred is fighting down the same tears that he is. He places a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “I’ll stay with him now. Get some rest.”

Alfred nods. Places a hand over Bruce’s but doesn’t look at him. “And you, Bruce.” He says and he leaves. Pulls the door closed gently behind him.

Bruce turns back to Tim. His darling boy. He kneels down, gently detangles the sheets from his son’s legs. Tim doesn’t stir. Bruce lies down next to him, lays the sheet over them both.

Touch is grounding. Jason had said. And it’s all Bruce can do not to pull Tim into his arms and never let go. But Leslie had said baby steps. So instead he settles for running his fingers through Tim’s hair and holding his face in his hands. Moves his head closer so he can feel the soft rise and fall of Tim’s breath.

This would have to do, for now.

[apinchofm]

Phone Swap

A meet-cute that starts with them accidentally getting each other's phones.

Why don't you have a passcode on your phone?"

Mine is 1776, please respond.

Phoebe furrowed her eyes at the messages that popped up on what she thought was her phone. Then she remembered what happened when she left the tube station on her way to walk.

Phoebe found herself colliding with a man who was running whilst she was walking. As in she ran right into his chest and dropped her phone in the process.

"I am so sorry!" The man apologised, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Phoebe said hurriedly, dusting her dress drown and pulling her handbag up on her shoulder. She mindlessly picked up a phone, throwing it in her bag before going.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. Probably a Hamilton nerd or something.

Who is this?

Don't know if you remember me - bumped into you outside of the tube. It seems I have your phone, Miss Phoebe Taylor.

How on earth did he know her- 'he has my phone,' Phoebe thought to herself.

I am so sorry!

It's alright. I'm Marcus, if you haven't snooped. Dr Marcus Whitmore.

Can we meet later to swap phones?

Unfortunately, I can't. I'm on shift until the early morning. How about tomorrow, lunch on me? Mayfair tea rooms work?

He was clearly trying to make up for the fact by taking her out for tea, especially tea in Mayfair. He must also be at a hospital nearby.

Sounds good. I will see you then! Again, so sorry!

Haha, it's fine. Just don't look in documents or email - confidential patient files and emails.

Phoebe's overriding curious nature wanted to snoop through. A few game apps, chess. No social media, which was slightly strange. Though, being a doctor, he was busy.

She looked at the background with interest. It was him and a woman wearing sunglasses, pulling funny faces. His girlfriend, perhaps?

Music. You can always tell someone's personality based on music. She went into his Spotify.

"Jesus, he listens to the same music as my dad," Phoebe sighed. But is showed perhaps optimism? He enjoyed a lot of 80s music, some bands she had heard of, others she did not.

But what annoyed Phoebe were the constant calls. When she went to sleep, his father felt the incessant need to call and text. As did his uncle and an aunt who was pushing him to respond to his father and uncle. She also wanted to know if he was playing polo for the charity event.

So, blue blood and old money, Phoebe deduced, with family issues.

"His dad doesn't give up." Phoebe sighed and she put the phone on silent before she went to sleep.

...

They met at the tea house. Marcus was already there when Phoebe was escorted to his table.

"Peaceful exchange of devices?" Marcus teased, holding up her phone. She held up his and they placed them on the table, sliding them towards each other. Phoebe took hers with a sigh of relief, whereas Marcus seemed less bothered.

"Thank you," Phoebe said.

"Thank you and apologies again for bumping into you. I was late for work at the university hospital." Marcus explained, "Couldn't let my students start running around and mix up patients,"

"That's okay," Phoebe said, "Though, I'm not sure how your girlfriend felt about another woman having your phone for the night." Okay, not subtle but he did have her phone.

"My girlfriend?"

"The woman on your background," She said.

"No, that's Miriam. Best mate, that's all." Marcus smirked, "But your phone background is beautiful. Sistine Chapel Ceiling."

"I went last year. It was beautiful." Phoebe said. A waiter brought their tray of tea and some sandwiches and cakes.

"1776? How many times did you see Hamilton?" Phoebe asked as he poured her a cup.

"My mother's side is American. I love history, even if they get it wrong. And six times. But what can I say? 'Satisfied' just spoke to me." Marcus explained, making her giggle.

"Wait, how were you able to contact your co-workers?" Phoebe asked. He took a small black thing out of his pocket.

"Pager. Yes, we still use them. What about you?"

"I tend not to be on my phone most of the time anyway. I work at Sotheby's so I have my computer and a large archive," Phoebe shrugged.

"Your sister kept texting and asking you to shop with her. I told her you were super busy for the rest of the week," Phoebe actually looked impressed. She was never able to lie to Stella, even over text. She looked at the messages and her sister simply replied, 'Whatever. Read your books.'.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Her sister, for all she loved her, was the most exhausting human being.

"Thanks. Um, your dad kept on calling and your uncle. I didn't answer." Phoebe replied, Well, your aunt wants to know if you are playing polo."

"Ah, that's pretty standard for me," Marcus replied, "If you had answered, that would have resulted in more phone calls and an assumption I got you pregnant." She raised an eyebrow.

"Black sheep of the family?"

"I try." He smirked. Smarmy.

Phoebe leaned forward, "I spend my weekends cataloguing artwork and researching art in my pyjamas. I have a cat named Persephone. My friends think I'm weird."

But Marcus leaned back and smiled, "I like weird."

"I have to go," He said, frowning at the message on the pager, "So, dinner? Eight pm work for you?"

Phoebe scoffed, "I don't recall agreeing to dinner."

"Yes, you did. The minute you asked me if the woman on my screen was my girlfriend and I saw ABBA on your Spotify playlist ." He kissed her on the cheek before grabbing his coat and leaving with a cheeky smile.

Phoebe shook her head and couldn't help the smile on her face.

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Satan Relationship Headcanons

Satan is another character that it took me awhile to warm up to. Him attacking MC in Season 1 because they didn’t want to make a pact with him? That was pretty traumatic, honestly. Who wants to be around someone you have to walk around on eggshells all the time? Maybe it’s because I had a family member that used anger as a way to create fear (and submission) that I had a hard time forgiving him for that. But like Lucifer, he’s come pretty far in his character development and I’m warming up to him as I understand him better.

Satan x gn!MC

It takes awhile for Satan to really open up to you, emotionally and physically.

He’s pretty shy, all things considered, and works hard to act how he thinks a “proper gentleman” should act.

Emotionally, he’s scared of losing control.

He’s spent his whole existence learning how to manage his emotions, so the strong feelings he has towards you are really confusing for him at first.

At one point you may even be concerned that he doesn’t even like you in the same way that you like him because of how reserved he tends to be.

When he catches you crying about your not-actually-unrequited-love, that is what leads him to finally admit how he’s feeling and what he’s struggling with.

Please be patient with him.

Give him time to get used to feeling and expressing love. He is trying his best.

Like Lucifer, it’s not until he’s forced to spend time away from you that he realizes just how much he’s come to rely on you.

When you finally reunite, he can no longer help himself. He wants to hold you and touch you and keep you close.

You become a huge source of support for him, and he for you.

Whenever you need to vent and get something off your chest, he is there for you.

Talking with you always makes him feel better, no matter how angry and frustrated he is.

And when he’s having a rough day, he will love it if you read to him while he’s relaxing with you in his room.

Reading to each other becomes a common way for the two of you to bond and keep each other company.

You also swap book recommendations with him a lot. He’s always willing to read new books or try new genres if they are of interest to you.

He tends to get obsessive about it though, so if he learns that you love the works by a certain author, he will make it his mission to collect and read them all.

Trips to museums are his ideal dates. Art, history, science, it doesn’t matter. He loves all museums.

He also loves learning new things with you.

Nothing makes him happier than couples activities like dancing lessons, art classes, cooking classes etc.

Of course Satan loves cats, so visiting cat cafes is an obvious must.

Buy him tiny cat trinkets whenever you get the chance and sprinkle them around his room.

It’ll take him a bit to find the first one, but after that he starts noticing them more and more. It’s almost like an Easter egg hunt.

He considers leaving them where he finds them, but he doesn’t want them to be broken or lost (or stolen! *cough cough* Mammon), so he invests in a locked, enchanted curio cabinet.

He will return the favor with small trinkets of your favorite animal too, or trinkets that feature a “pair” of animals.

If you’re not careful, he will try to rope you into his pranks with Belphie that target Lucifer. He’d be thrilled if you join him, but he’s ok if you just watch on silently if you’d prefer not to be involved.

Depending on how you react, pranking you may become a thing. He’s much more mild with his pranks towards you though, he’s just trying to get you to laugh after all.

If you decide to return his pranks, just don’t come after the books. Anything else (well, besides the previously mentioned curio cabinet), is fair game.

When it comes to physical affection, he’s very sweet and gentle.

He absolutely cherishes you and takes great care to make sure you feel loved and appreciated.

If you are hurt or sick, or just not feeling well, he will stay by your side until you are better, doing anything you ask of him.

After your relationship is more established, he’s much more flirty.

Will quote romance books or poems when he’s trying to soften you up. Like if you’re say, ignoring him, and he’s decided he’s done reading for the day and wants your attention.

He loves giving you little kisses on whatever part of exposed skin he can reach. Hands, shoulders, neck, forehead. Skin to skin contact is important to him.

He’s not much into PDA, however, he loves the idea of secret affection where it’s possible for someone to catch him but it’s not immediately obvious what he’s doing.

He really likes holding your hand whenever you go out together too.

Take plenty of photos together with him. He will like to keep them private, just for himself, but loves seeing your smile and remembering the fun you’ve had together when you’re not around.

[sleepymccoy]

This isn’t exactly what you asked for. By chance, last night my housemate asked me what my favourite human discovery through history was, so I used that brainstorming session as a launching pad for this fic cos otherwise i had like no ideas. So it’s more of a debate than you asked for, but I think it’s a fun read. And the ending is unbelievably sweet. I don’t think I’ve every written something that sweet without referencing trauma in some way, but this is just sweet sweet fluffiness. @megers67​ hope you enjoy it mate

-

Crowley stared out at the lake, mulling over Aziraphale's question. The angel had gotten bored of waiting for a response and had pottered off to get a closer look at a baby swan. Crowley laughed as the mother swan squawked, startling Aziraphale. 

A few seconds later found Crowley speed walking alongside a harried Aziraphale as they stalked away from the angrily squawking mother, Aziraphale pulling Crowley along behind him by his hand.  

"Well," Aziraphale said haughtily, "I never."

Crowley laughed again, keeping pace with Aziraphale more so their hands wouldn't become detached than out of any concern over a pursuant swan. 

They crossed a bridge, Aziraphale's footfalls heavy and swift, Crowley's just swift, and heard one last distant squawk as the swan fare welled them.

Crowley didn't laugh, Aziraphale was still holding his hand and he didn't want to push his luck and be dropped.

Instead, he answered the asked question.

"The typewriter was pretty good."

Aziraphale glanced at him, the slight gleam of madness leaving his eyes. "You surprise me," he said. 

Their pace slowed, Aziraphale's grip on Crowley's hand slackened, still holding him but less of a vice. 

"But why not go a step back to the printing press?" Aziraphale asked.

"Oh yeah, that's a point," Crowley admitted. Was the typewriter really an invention if you had printing presses? And what about writing before that, does the printing press count if you already have ink? "Why not go another step back to all those enslaved monks?" 

"Why must they be enslaved monks?"

"You know," Crowley waved his other hand, not really proving that Aziraphale knew. "Monks were the only literate folk for ages. All those illuminated manuscripts."

Aziraphale squeezed his hand for a memento and Crowley felt very fond. "But, enslaved?"

"I guess they weren't enslaved. Indentured?"

"You just dislike organised religion."

"Guilty." Crowley squeezed Aziraphale's hand back, eliciting a quiet chuckle. "But typewriters, you know. In terms of ticking boxes, they've got sound. Good sound, they sound good."

"Sound?"

Crowley nodded. "Sound," he said certainly.

"Is that important in an invention?"

Crowley could feel Aziraphale's gaze on him and turned to meet his eyes. Aziraphale's thumb ran gently across Crowley's first knuckle.

"Well," Crowley said. "What about you, then?"

Aziraphale hummed and went back to looking at the path. Crowley let him lead and kept staring at his face, enjoying the wrinkle that appeared on his forehead as he thought. 

Crowley tripped on a rock and as he stumbled (kept standing by Aziraphale's suddenly appropriate firm grip on his hand) and wrenched his attention back to the path. He realised just how sickeningly in love he must've looked, gazing at Aziraphale like a desperate dog. He glanced around self-consciously and noticed an ice-cream stand. He quickly forgot his worries.

"Ice-cream?" Crowley offered.

Aziraphale turned to him, so bemused it bordered on anger. "You think ice-cream is the best invention? What kind of lack-luster suggestion-"

"Shut up, no," Crowley groaned. He threw his body around in exasperation, holding on tightly to Aziraphale's hand, still talking. "There's a blessed ice-cream stand, d'you want one?"

"Oh, certainly," Aziraphale said without a touch of humility from his misunderstanding. 

Crowley realised too late that he'd have to let go of Aziraphale's hand to complete his task. He steeled himself for a moment, then did so. 

He returned quickly with an icy-pole for Aziraphale and a cone for himself. 

"Democracy?" Aziraphale asked as he accepted his icy-pole.

"Fuck off," Crowley groaned, "pick something proper."

Aziraphale began to walk. Crowley followed, regretting the ice-cream as he couldn't hold Aziraphale's hand any longer. 

Then, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, Aziraphale swapped which hand was holding his icy-pole and reached out to Crowley. 

Crowley took his hand and grinned, remembering about seven second too late that he was meant to look cool. But Aziraphale's returning smile was so nice he couldn't force nonchalance into his features. 

"Fabric was a pretty good one," Aziraphale said as they walked, fingers quickly entwining. 

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"Well, it got them warm. Far more versatile than those hides they wore early on." He gesticulated with his icy-pole, waving it in circles as he discussed hides. 

"And look at where it's gone," Aziraphale said cheerfully, "my pants are marvelous."

"They are," Crowley agreed  "But fabric's hardly a make or break kind of thing. It's nice, yeah, but it doesn't do anything a big ol' leaf wouldn't."

"What about in summer," Aziraphale argued. "How else would you avoid sunburn than a light linen shawl?"

A good point. But Crowley wasn't ready to give up the goat just yet.

Aziraphale waited patiently, licking his icy-pole in a manner that delayed Crowley's memory.

"Clay!" Crowley finally said, a lot more triumphantly than their peaceful stroll through the park should've allowed.

"Oh, I forgot about clay," Aziraphale hummed.

Crowley preened.

"Does clay count as an invention?" Aziraphale asked.

"Nah," Crowley said. "'s'in the dirt already."

Aziraphale made a wordless agreement. His thumb began to run across Crowley's knuckles again.

They walked quietly. The pressure of Aziraphale thumb picked up, feeling the bones of Crowley's hand confidently. Crowley walked and enjoyed it. 

They finished their ice-creams. Crowley took Aziraphale's stick from him and threw it out.

"Oh, I might have it," Aziraphale said as they approached the edge of the park, meandering back towards the Bentley. 

"Go on," Crowley invited.

Aziraphale paused, then, with all the confidence in the world, said, "Glass."

Crowley cocked his head to the side. "Wine glasses," he said slowly. 

"Yes."

"Sunglasses."

*Lovely," Aziraphale told the birds.

Crowley thought. Then, "Windows."

Aziraphale's hand in his jiggled as the angel nodded. "Those are good," Aziraphale agreed.

"Computers-" Crowley interrupted himself and palmed his mobile out of his back pocket to illustrate his point. "Even phones have glass now."

Aziraphale dutifully looked at the displayed phone. "So they do," he said.

"I mean, it is a bit clay though," Crowley said. "I mean, it is made naturally."

Aziraphale frowned. "Not often," he said widely.

"'s'just hot sand, innit?"

"Very hot," Aziraphale said. "It can't be easy."

"I s'pose," Crowley agreed reluctantly.

"And glass blowing is definitely creation," Aziraphale continued, sensing Crowley's reticence. "That's discovery. That's man made, that is."

"I'll give you that."

"Bottles don't form naturally."

"Love a good bottle," Crowley said. "Could've said the same for clay, you could've."

"But I didn't," Aziraphale grinned, "I saved it for this."

They reached the Bentley and Crowley slowed, coming to a stop before they had to let go of their hands to climb into the car. 

"And that kind of forward thinking should be rewarded," Crowley said. 

"Were we playing for a prize?" Aziraphale asked with a delighted laugh in his voice.

Crowley spun to lean against the door of the Bentley, facing Aziraphale. He quickly took Aziraphale's hand in both of his. "Sure," he said.

"Well," Aziraphale said. He stepped closer to Crowley, crowding him against the car. "You listed all those good glass things, perhaps you've earnt the reward."

"Nah," Crowley said broadly. "Your idea." He tugged on Aziraphale's hand to punctuate his argument. "Your reward. Go on, what d'you want?"

Aziraphale's smile softened. His eyes fluttered down to Crowley lips and back to his eyes. "I would like a kiss," he whispered.

Crowley leaned in and kissed him.

It was brief and tasted faintly of artificially sweet red flavouring. Crowley leaned away with a smile.

"And another kiss," Aziraphale said without opening his eyes, for he had closed them when Crowley had been too close to notice. "Please," he added.

Crowley raised one hand to cup around Aziraphale's jaw and kissed him for longer. 

He leaned away again, just as Aziraphale began to press into it with sincerity. Aziraphale gasped quietly as Crowley settled back into place against the car door. 

His insides writhed in joy and want, but externally he kept his smile warm and simple. He watched Aziraphale and waited for the actual prize to be asked for.

"And-" Aziraphale said, eyes just barely beginning to flutter open.

Crowley chuckled and interrupted. "You can't just keep asking for kisses, that's not a real reward."

Aziraphale met his gaze and smiled. His blush, born of being kissed, deepened. "Whatever not?" he asked, so sweetly.

Crowley grinned. "Because I give you those anyway."

Aziraphale shuffled in half a step, his belly pressing against Crowley in an intimacy Crowley relished. "What do you think I would possibly ask for that you don't give me regardless?" Aziraphale asked. "Besides, I wasn't going to ask for another kiss."

"No?"

"No," Aziraphale said with certainty while watching Crowley's lips. "I want-" 

Crowley licked his lips and enjoyed how Aziraphale's eyes followed it. Aziraphale did not finish his sentence.

"Um," Aziraphale squeaked, "what's the word for a really long kiss?"

Crowley laughed and slid his hand from Aziraphale's jaw to around the back of his neck and pulled him in close, kissing him full and open on the mouth. 

Aziraphale dropped Crowley's other hand and balled his fists into Crowley's jacket. He pressed forward and Crowley found himself joyfully pinned between the hard, cold car door and something the opposite in every way.

He fought every instinct to raise his legs and wrap around Aziraphale's waist, they were still in public after all. 

Aziraphale broke away with a grin and cried out, "And an almond croissant!" 

Crowley laughed, delighted, and found himself being kissed as he laughed. 

He wrestled Aziraphale away, although no effort was really kept up, and said something about scandalised middle aged women and a promise to pick up croissants later tonight if they went home right now. 

Aziraphale got the gist of what Crowley was quietly sure had been almost incomprehensible vowel sounds, and practically skipped across the road to get in the car. 

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 5

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Revenge is sweet but a well-timed dick joke is sweeter. xoxo gossip girl. Please supervise one Bucky Barnes on the internet. Questionable music taste. Detention is the price we pay for justice. Bruce Banner is too precious for this world, too pure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​ @downeyreads​ @hermione-grangers-wife​ @individualistfem​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! 🎶🎵I love you biiitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you biiitch 🎵🎶

"Initiate phase one," I added a growly undertone to my whisper, holding my phone inconspicuously, as if I was making a simple phone call. There was no answer but I didn't expect one: I was testing the voice recorder app that I had downloaded for the sole purpose of documenting and relaying the inevitable fall of one Flash Thompson. 

Making my way through the crowd of students during the busiest time of the day, I made the most intrigued and outraged facial expression I possibly could. Spying my targets, I leaned against a nearby wall, putting a hand over my mouth in fake outrage, keeping my eyes wide and trained on the opposite wall. Just as I had predicted, the two sophomore girls started giving me side-eye by minute two of my staring and finally approached me as I contemplated the wall for whole five minutes.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" The brunette asked, her blonde friend hanging a step back.

"Yeah, totally," I mumbled. "I'm, like, shook beyond imagination, but nothing, like, bad."

The girls traded a curious look, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. The greedy gleam in their eyes had me internally cheering. "What happened?" The blonde one asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure if I should tell that to anyone," I stammered, watching them bodily move forward. "Well, okay, I can't keep quiet. But you must never, ever speak of it or I'll get expelled or something," I said nervously. They both nodded so rapidly it reminded me of Funko Pop figurines. "You know the senior guy, Flash? Brown hair, kinda hot?" Again, they both nodded, conspicuously grinning. "I think I just saw him in the closed girls bathroom on the third floor with, like, some brunette from Ms. Johnson's History class," They both gasped. Predictable. "But that's not the worst! They were like, y'know," I made an obscene gesture with my hand and they instantly covered their own mouths with their palms in shock. "And the chick was like 'is it in yet?' and he was like 'yah' and I just closed the door and ran, oh my god I hope they didn't hear me," I squealed at the end, playing the part of a mortified teenager.

All three of us giggled uncomfortably for a moment. The blonde girl stared at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing there?"

I faked a nervous stammer, looking around briefly and showing them my lighter for a moment. They both gasped and nodded in recognition. "Don't tell anybody or my mom is going to have kittens," I pleaded. Both of them nodded solemnly, noticing their own group of friends approach. I used the brief moment to get lost in the river of pupils and by the time they turned around to introduce me, I was already at the opposite part of the hallway.

For the time being, everything seemed peaceful. There were a few giggles and side-eyes directed towards Flash Thompson but nothing out of the ordinary. He was disliked by most of the student population even if nobody dared to admit it outright. I took care to walk around without my earbuds for the day and pulled out my phone to record the most interesting conversations around me whenever I caught the tell tale signs of a gossip mill beginning to run its course around the school.

"Oh my god, I heard about this girl that was caught fucking Flash in the girls bathroom and she literally said 'is it in yet', can you imagine the shock, jeez!"

"Some chick literally just rejected Flash because his dick was too small."

"Rebecca from AP chemistry told me someone saw Flash's micropenis. Poor guy!"

"I wonder if his girlfriend dumped him because he can't do shit, I mean, he doesn't look like the type to eat the kitty."

Those were just the highlights of the Friday afternoon. Come the weekend and the news of Flash's unfortunate condition will make the rounds through every single group chat that the school has and by the time Monday rolls around, nobody will have a clue who started the rumour in the first place. I had to carefully select the girls who were to distribute the rumour and I was happy with the outcome: Marissa and Layla with their squad of chatty, bored rich girls were the perfect choice. I thought they would jump at any opportunity to cause drama and I was right.

It was sufficient to say I was bristling with pride as I cut and compiled the audio track from today's school day before sending it to the group chat.

Clint, Peter and Natasha appeared online as soon as the message delivered and I was delighted at their response. Romanoff's kind words, specifically, made me all warm and mushy inside. I didn't resist the feeling, basked in it even as I did a happy dance around my room. Peter's nonsensical string of emojis was another point of laughter for me. 

It wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about killing Thompson's reputation... Alas, simplicity is the way to success when it comes to large crowds of teenagers. That tiny little vindictive part of me was very much looking forward to the weekend and the results of the inevitable distortion of the rumour I had started. Who knew, maybe by Monday Flash Thompson would not only have a micropenis but horns and hooves as well.

Near bedtime, I had all the avengers send me their regards and thumbs up. I answered the flurry of texts as quickly as I could but there was no point in keeping up with ten or so people constantly streaming their questions, opinions and comments. 

I settled on a single easiest response: pulling my dad's old uni sweatshirt over my tiny lacy pajamas to preserve some modesty, I settled in front of my mirror, turning on my Bluetooth speaker to play "Boss Ass Bitch". In true gen-z fashion, I put on my best resting witch face and solemnly lip-synced to the song's eponymous chorus. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut paper and my prismatic highlighter glittered enigmatically in the cold light of my blue lava lamp.

The response was, once again, delightful and I genuinely belly-laughed at the adults' attempts to meme after Peter. His blushy face emoji started a whole nother conversation that I didn't participate in but watched from the sidelines with glee, snorting every time his friends and mentors gently teased him about the very obvious crush he harboured on me. 

Seeing Peter starting to go absolutely nuts, I interjected with an offer (more like a dare) of a lip sync battle. He jumped on the bandwagon, immediately going offline to undoubtedly film an epic video of what I thought would be dorky-dancing to some hipster song. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pre-recorded tik tok video of him and Ned fighting with lightsabers while mouthing the words to Fergalicious that played over the Imperial March.

Weirdos. I still followed him on the app, though, it was pretty funny.

Bucky interjected with a very well executed rendition of "Bring Me to Life": he was wearing his full Winter Soldier get-up, complete with an AK-47, dramatically serenading Steve who looked seventeen shades of done with his partner's antics. Wanda's following twenty second voice message consisted of nothing but pure hysterical laughter, summing up everyone's reaction to the video. Bucky was going to go viral one of these days...

Obviously, I had good competition and nobody else seemed to want to participate so I rearranged my surroundings a little bit and stood up at my full height and swapped the old sweatshirt for a cute crop-top hoodie. My thigh-highs were on display and with my make-up, I looked like a proper internet e-girl. I leaned against the mirror as I mouthed along to the song with my best interpretation of the famous Lucifer smirk, seasoned with a tiny bit of angelic innocence: "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of loving you..."

Needless to say, I won the competition. Eventually Wanda joined in, looking menacing and ominous with her dark clothes and Natasha's red hair flashing somewhere in the background; even Tony did a round (AC/DC as his soundtrack of course) with one of his Iron Man suits but nothing beat my stunt and the reaction that it caused.

I had accidentally called out Bruce with the choice of my song and his teammates gave both of us a lot of cheeky comments about it. We relented and flirted with each other a bit as the conversation flowed into more mundane discussion; I said my good nights somewhere between Tony's bitching about the hobbies of my generation and my nightly skincare routine. The little green heart that I'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks greeted me just as I was about to lock my phone.

Bruce was really too precious for this world. My crush on him was different than the one on Tony, it mellowed out in comparison. I wanted him to hold me, to stroke my hair, to call me his darling and wrap me up in one of those dorky button-ups that he insisted on wearing in spite of Tony's unwanted, however very valid, fashion advice.

For all that's worth, the scientist probably knew or at least suspected and had the good grace to play along just enough to satisfy my deep need for attention... Without crossing any actual lines. It was frustrating, it was disappointing but I had virtually nothing to complain about. Besides, I didn't want to lose the quirky friendship that we had. Banner was, probably, the least judgemental person I knew and I wasn't about to trade that for an awkwardly stolen kiss.

Monday and Tuesday passed in a flurry of giggling and snorting every time Flash walked by. His girlfriend broke up with him, very publicly, accusing him of cheating and he didn't even deny it - just insulted her and stormed off, leaving even his friends looking lost and clueless. I started dragging Peter and his two pet nerds along with me just about everywhere I went in case Thompson decided to do something stupid again. If judging only by the looks he was throwing our little company, he was on his way to figuring out who began nibbling at his reputation.

The week was coming to an end and the rumour began dying off, slowly. That just didn't sit with me, I wanted the fucker gone. Due to the obvious time constraints, I approached MJ regarding Peter - after a brief argument, we came to an agreement regarding Peter's safety should I need to leave him alone in the hallways or at lunch. 

I needed to do this alone so if I got caught, I won't drag them down with me. Granted, I would probably get something like a suspension and the school will attempt to call my mother (she never picks up) but that's about it. That's where her reputation comes in handy-people consciously avoid dealing with her, she can be that unbearable.

But first, I needed to get a teacher that's on my side. After carefully considering the candidates, I settled on my Social Studies professor - he taught the college-level classes and was overall a very chill, nice dude. And he disliked bullies with a flaming passion. So it didn't take me long to work him into a righteous fury - just a quick chat over a cup of tea in his homeroom and a few pictures of Peter's bruised face, complete with my own pleading puppy eyes. We agreed Mr Davies would "accidentally" leave the teacher's lounge unlocked during third period and I would sneak in. The plan wasn't foolproof but if it worked, not only Flash, but also his whole misogynistic, bigoted family would go down.

As I was leaving, Mr Davies looked up at me with a bright smile: "Give them Hell, alright?" And I suddenly noticed he was, in fact, very attractive. The smile brought out the fine wrinkles around his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes - he smiled a lot. Silver strands mixed in with the wooden brown of his hair.

I let my eyes slide over him briefly before baring my teeth in return. "I owe you one," I don't know what possessed me to say that. My mouth really had a mind of its own sometimes. The room suddenly became hot.

"Sure," He replied, totally oblivious.

On Friday, I made myself a small nest in the empty classroom opposite the teacher's lounge and sat waiting for the signal from Mr Davies - he'd tap on the door once and I'd quietly go inside the teacher's lounge, retrieve Thompson's file and make my way back to the empty classroom to grab my backpack and carry the file to my locker for further examination. 

The first part went successfully and I managed to snag Thompson's file. It was heavy and hefty, all the evidence of his rowdiness compiled into one flimsy plastic folder. There were A LOT of pink slips and I rejoiced internally: at least there was a paper trail of his exploits. The principal didn't do anything about it which was... If not against the rules then at least frowned upon; the plan was to take copies and anonymously submit them to the school board prompting at least an investigation into the blatant disregard for Flash's immoral and illegal behaviour.

On my way back I stumbled upon the principal herself which got me not only a stern talking to, but a whole detention for skipping class. Whatever, I was too elated from potentially ruining the life of a dumb fuck who ruined my friend's face.

Surprise came in the face of Mr Davies, who, having heard the commotion in the hallway, stepped out of his class and saw me being lectured by the principal. 

"I'll take her for the detention," I heard the familiar voice behind me. The principal nodded solemnly and I had no choice but to sigh in resignation. "Three thirty, be here," He nodded to me, walking back, looking way too smug for his own good. So I wasn't the only one excited about the successful completion of stage two of my nefarious plan. Cue evil laughter.

[sergeantsporks]

Swapped

Ch 4/5

Ao3

Or read under the cut

The year did not pass in a flash, even after he got a job at a little cafe. The year passed agonizingly slowly, with one dull moment after another, while in the meantime, Zoe came back with story after story of exciting goings-on at Hextech.

Well. Not every moment was dull. Sometimes the moments were painfully embarrassing as he would be called up to the board to attempt something he didn’t know how to do, or would be handed back yet another assignment with a ridiculous amount of red ink scrawled on it.

The teachers seemed to be catching on that he knew absolutely nothing, and had one of two reactions; one of them was to simply leave him alone and not embarrass him further, and the other was to attempt to help him learn by calling on him more often.

At least once the students accepted that he was dumb as dirt when it came to school, they liked him fine. A lot of them were incredibly confused about how he could possibly be so bad at school and then be socially competent. He tried to steer clear of them.

Douxie Casperan, please report to the counselor’s office.

Uh-oh. That did not sound good.

Aaaaand yep, the whispers started up, following him down to the counselor’s little room. Really, it wasn’t THAT hard to figure out why he was being called out. He sat down in a chair, his report card facing him with a line of F’s and D’s. Oh, and one A+ in history. He could do that, at least, having lived through most of it.

“Douxie,” the guidance counselor started.

“Yep, I know, I’m a horrendous student with horrendous grades, I need to take school seriously and apply myself. I know all that.”

“You’re a smart kid, Douxie. Your history grades prove that you can do well. And the teachers all say that you’re trying. It just seems like… you’re missing a lot of other information.”

Uh-oh. She was a little too smart. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you don’t seem to struggle in Calculus because you don’t understand calculus—it’s like you struggle because you never learned algebra, so the background isn’t there. It seems like no one ever taught you basic essay-writing skills, so you can’t write an essay, despite seeming to understand analyzing literature fairly well.”

Douxie nodded along as she spoke, but his attention was caught on something outside the window. Something very shiny, and glowing blue.

Trollhunter. The amulet. That bar girl had been right. And the trollhunter was… wandering around in broad daylight. A human?!

“Douxie?”

Douxie put his hands down on the desk. “You’re right, I never took algebra, also I’m nineteen so I don’t technically have to be here, bye!”

He ran out the door, grabbed his bag, and left school forever. He didn’t find the trollhunter, but that didn’t matter. No more calculus. No more counselors and school. The human trollhunter had arrived.

According to the instructions Merlin had left behind for his apprentice, that meant Merlin couldn’t be far behind.

Xxx

Douxie read Merlin’s instructions. Then he read them again. And one more time just to be sure. The old wizard hadn’t left behind anything specific. Only that there would be a human trollhunter, and he would be the one to wake Merlin. And that Douxie was to stay out of it. No handy dates, or a “meet up here!” note, besides a vague bunch of instructions about opening up a bookshop.

“Don’t stress too much over it,” Archie advised him, “He’s Merlin. He’ll contact us when he’s ready, I expect.”

“I don’t want—” Douxie bit down on his tongue. He couldn’t exactly tell Archie about his mission. “I don’t want to wait that long. What if he’s forgotten about us?”

“Merlin never forgets a detail. It’s his thing.”

“I know, I just…”

“Douxie. It’s okay. He’ll be here. Just… be patient.”

Douxie swept the pages of instructions off of the Hextech help counter. “I’ve been patient!” he shouted, “I’ve waited for nine-hundred years, and he can’t even bother to give me a place to check?!”

The door swung open, and Zoe took in the scene. “Oh, boy. Don’t tell me Mr. Arthurian legend is going to be here soon.”

“Well, the problem is,” Douxie growled, “I don’t know!”

Zoe delicately picked up the written instructions, scanning through them. “Right. Well, if you’re really so determined to wait around for this guy—”

“I am!”

“Then I suggest you open that bookstore he’s got set up. If he’s going to meet you anywhere, it’ll probably be there.” Zoe took his hand. “Douxie, can I talk to you? Alone?”

Douxie let her lead him outside, where she dropped his hand. “Why do you need Merlin?” she asked simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. Why do you need him? Why are you so determined to meet back up with this guy that abandoned you for nine-hundred years?”

“I—there’s still so much I don’t know about magic. And I’m not a master wizard yet, I—”

“Why do you need to be a master wizard? Why do you need Merlin? You’ve been doing just fine without him, or some master wizard title for so long! With just you, me, and Archie! What do you need some crusty old guy to tell you?!”

Well, being a master wizard had been the other Hisirdoux’s plan. But… why was he still holding onto some mission? One that he hadn’t needed to do for nine-hundred years? No. That kind of thinking was out of line. He needed to do this. For his parents, if he couldn’t do it for the pale lady. “I… I just need it.”

“But why?!” Zoe half-screamed, “What’s so important about it?!” She grabbed his hand again. “We don’t have to open the bookshop! We don’t know when or if Merlin will wake up! We can go anywhere, do anything—just like we did before you saw the human trollhunter! You can work here, at Hextech, the wizards here are so varied, you can learn whatever magic you want from them—some of them probably even know things that Merlin doesn’t! Just forget about Merlin and his instructions! How can you feel so attached to him still—you’ve spent nine-hundred years with Archie and I, isn’t that more real than any old apprenticeship that you haven’t been a part of for centuries?”

“I’m opening the bookshop,” Douxie growled, “I’m waiting for Merlin.”

Zoe threw her hands up in the air. “Fine! Fine, you open your bookshop, and wait for your stupid master! I’m staying here at Hextech!” She ran a hand through her bangs. “Gah, Douxie! I love you, but you need to learn to let go of some things, okay? Just… think about it. Give it a few days before you open up that bookshelf. Figure out what you really want, not what you wanted nine-hundred years ago and have been holding onto ever since.” She went back inside, the door slamming behind her.

What he really wanted.

He had a mission. A purpose. Right?

Well, what did he care what the Pale Lady wanted? She hadn’t been seen for centuries, just like Merlin. She’d just left behind cryptic instructions, just like Merlin.

But his parents—he couldn’t just abandon them. And if he was on the winning side of this war, if he kept on Gunmar’s side and delivered the information about Merlin’s plans—if he ever woke up—maybe, just maybe, he could make sure that Zoe and Archie wouldn’t get hurt. That there would be a place next to him for them.

Who was he kidding? They’d never agree to that. He couldn’t have a Gum-Gum victory and his new friends. There had to be something else—a way to get his parents back and protect Zoe and Archie and not lose their friendship.

He had to figure out a way.

In the meantime, he opened up the bookshop.

He kept monster hunting with Zoe and Archie.

He kept working at the café.

All the while, more and more of his skin was turning to stone, blue stone lines meeting pink flesh where Something Had Happened to Hisirdoux, but WHY?! So he kept covering up more and more skin, wearing long sleeves and pants even in the heat, much to Zoe and Archie’s amusement.

And he kept running through plans. But they always came down to choosing between his parents or Zoe and Archie. Volunteer enough information to get his parents out of the Darklands, Zoe and Archie hated him. But he couldn’t just leave them stuck there!

Then there was the problem of… well, explaining what he was. Could he ever tell Zoe and Archie the truth? If he rescued his parents, it would come out eventually, wouldn’t it? But he couldn’t just leave them stuck there!

He was set in autopilot, going through the motions of his day while his brain continuously raced to figure out the paradox of How to Not Lose Anyone.

And then he wandered right into a web of dark magic at work. He almost stopped dead in his tracks before forcing himself to continue walking and acting like nothing was wrong. The human trollhunter. Jim. He’d tried to get in closer a few weeks ago, shown up at the school, handed out flyers for the Battle of the Bands. Talked to Jim’s friends. He still wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but the trollhunter was glaring at him.

That magic, though. It wasn’t coming from the trollhunter. It was coming from… Claire. No surprise, she was the shadow magician, but… this felt… different.

And then a voice spoke in his head, slithering and cold.

Stay out of it.

Douxie blinked. Had he just-?

I am your queen, your creator, Morgana, Baba Yaga, the Pale Lady, and I am ordering you to not interfere. The girl is mine.

Douxie gulped. Right. This was happening. Okay. Fine.

Act as though nothing has happened. Your cover is necessary—Merlin may soon return.

Douxie steeled himself and took their orders—he wasn’t quite sure how to tell her, but Morgana wasn’t exactly… doing the best job fitting in. And the whole time, his mind spun and reeled. Had Morgana read his mind all along? Did she know everything he’d struggled with?

Well, don’t think about it now, he told himself, shaking his head.

Should Merlin return, Gunmar awaits in trollmarket. I will guide you to him, my special wizard. Soon, you will no longer have to pretend. You will be free to be yourself.

Morgana’s presence faded from his mind as Claire and Jim left, and Douxie shivered, rubbing his arms.

What if I’m not sure who “myself” is anymore?

[rose-tinted-juls]

juliana's comfort movies pt.2

posted: 20.07.2021.

scent of a woman (1992) main actors: al pacino, chris o'donnell, james rebhorn short summary (imdb): "a prep school student needing money agrees to "babysit" a blind man, but the job is not at all what he anticipated." why i love it (in a few words): al pacino (as i've already said, i absolutely adore him - he's breathtakingly talented and attractive), interesting plot, dark academia aesthetic, another classic one, i find it heartwarming and wish it didn't end

the holiday (2006) main actors: jude law, cameron diaz, kate winslet, jack black short summary (imdb): "two women troubled with guy-problems swap homes in each other's countries, where they each meet a local guy and fall in love." why i love it (in a few words): i don't even know really, it just makes me feel all happy, and it makes me believe that out of unexpected adventures can come true love. sometimes i just love a cheesy, fluffy romantic comedy

a walk in the woods (2015) main actors: robert redford, nick nolte, emma thompson short summary (imdb): "after spending two decades in england, bill bryson returns to the u.s., where he decides the best way to connect with his homeland is to hike the appalachian trail with one of his oldest friends, stephen katz." why i love it (in a few words): i'm a huge fan of robert redford, i love bill bryson (author) and his books, this movie never fails to make me laugh (even though i know the jokes by heart already), the scenery is *chefs kiss*, it makes me wanna go a long hike, the soundtrack is lord huron songs and it's amazing, true comedy

catch me if you can (2002) main actors: leonardo dicaprio, tom hanks, christopher walken short summary (imdb): "barely 21 yet, frank is a skilled forger who has passed as a doctor, lawyer and pilot. fbi agent carl becomes obsessed with tracking down the con man, who only revels in the pursuit." why i love it (in a few words): young leo (!!!), it's honestly so much fun, i love spielberg's movies *shrug*, so many twists, it's based on a true story (!!), amy adams is cute, never gets boring to watch it

the whiskey bandit (2017) main actors: bence szalay, zotlán schneider, viktor klem short summary (imdb): "a rootless young man in ceausescu's romania crosses the hungarian border looking for a better future. with his back against the wall in the post-socialist turmoil, he becomes the most successful bank robber in hungarian history." why i love it (in a few words): finally another hungarian movie i love, based on a true story (!!), the title is terrible but funny in english (i swear the hungarian original title is a hundred times better - "a viszkis"), it's an interesting look back into communism in romania and hungary

love actually (2003) main actors: hugh grant, bill nighy, colin firth, liam neeson, martin freeman, emma thompson, andrew lincoln, keira knightley, thomas brodie-sangster, alan rickman short summary (imdb): "follows the lives of eight very different couples in dealing with their love lives in various loosely interrelated tales all set during a frantic month before christmas in london, england." why i love it (in a few words): so many incredible actors oh my, adorable plots, so enjoyable to watch, it's a must really, i watch it every christmas, baby thomas brodie-sangster *-*, this movie makes me believe that love actually exists (lol see what i did there), suitable for all age groups in my opinion

the lake house (2006) main actors: keanu reever, sandra bullock short summary (imdb): "a lonely doctor, who once occupied an unusual lakeside house, begins exchanging love letters with its former resident, a frustrated architect. they must try to unravel the mystery behind their extraordinary romance before it's too late." why i love it (in a few words): this one's one of my all time favourite movies, incredible actors, i love keanu and sandra, even more when they play together, the plot is something so unique and well-created, makes you believe in love and that it really has no barriers, some mystery with time

serendipity (2001) main actors: john cusack, kate beckinsale short summary (imdb): "a couple search for each other years after the night they first met, fell in love, and separated, convinced that one day they'd end up together." why i love it (in a few words): it's a truly adorable movie, a lovely romantic comedy, CASSIOPEIA (sorry i just love that scene since i was like 9), makes you believe in love (yeah this one too), but also it gives me some frustration at times when things don't work out like i want them to lol

knives out (2019) main actors: ana de armas, daniel craig, chris evans, christopher plummer short summary (imdb): "a detective investigates the death of a patriarch of an eccentric, combative family." why i love it (in a few words): it's exciting, it has phenomenal scenes (often i laugh so hard my sides start to hurt), i love the actors oh my, the cinematography oh my, THE PLOT, i love detective movies, watched it three times within two weeks (and i rarely do it)

while you were sleeping (1995) main actors: sandra bullock, bill pullman, peter gallagher short summary (imdb): "a hopelessly romantic chicago transit authority token collector is mistaken for the fiancée of a coma patient." why i love it (in a few words): a childhood favourite, watched it like a hundred times (and never got bored), i love sandra bullock, an interesting plot with small twists that i adore, bill pullman's jack is amazing (and his freakin smile), funny and adorable, it's a must for someone who loves romantic comedies

[xcrystalzero]

Hello! I’d love to request a romantic matchup, as I’m an absolute sucker for those. Pls take your with this, and drink some water!

So first of, I’m 18 and het female. Appearance wise I’m a tiny (on a good day) 5’1 with, as of rn, pastel purple hair—I change my hair colour frequently. I have quite the defined hourglass shape, which I lowkey hate because finding clothes is a nightmare... the only feature I really like apart from that are my freckles. Besides that, I love fashion, and i spend quite some time on trying out new hairstyles and clothing combinations. So yeah that’s it appearance-wise.

Personality:

To be succinct, I’m an ENTP-T (HI KIN). I’m usually quite determined, stubborn, blunt, rational, and quick witted, but I try to be softer and more careful with my words around the people I love. My main quality is really just my galaxy brain (yay me, intelligence saves me from being a complete arsehole), although I always try my best to help the people around me (which can sometimes become overbearing, I’m sure). I have random periods where I just... succumb to being a crackhead. I’m not the biggest fan of always being serious, so I want to let loose sometimes. Tho one big issue I have, is that social cues and emotions are just really not my area of expertise. I have absolutely no idea how to act in most situations, and while it’s gotten better (i was unbearable to be around when I was younger) I’m vvv awkward and can easily be rude (accidentally... sometimes at least) djdjdjieks. Also, I’m such an annoying smartass, I’m sorry to everyone.

Hobbies and Interests/Dislikes:

For hobbies, I have too many in true ENTP fashion. Although, I mainly focus on dancing, writing, and... is hanging out with friends a hobby??? Idk, but I love spending time with my loved ones. I also quite like baking and I’m a huge simp for Shakespeare—well, his works that is, and for general English literature. I also love gaming, history, and debate. Another important thing for me is topics like feminism, gender equality and all that good stuff. I’m not really an activist (too much stuff on my hands I guess?) but I’m very passionate about these topics—and easily get into arguments about it. Dislikes—well, the usual ones like unnecessary hate and stuff like that, but specifically, I absolutely abhor when someone judges and condemns someone else—who hasn’t done anything against them—without even knowing their story. Also, ignorance is annoying af.

Some other stuff uwu:

For preferred traits in a partner: First of, my love language is Quality Time (we don’t need a big adventure or anything) and Acts of Service. I’m vvv averse to physical touch in a romantic sense and I need my s/o to respect the fact that it’d take me a long long time to get used to him initiating smth. Trauma tingz... I know it unfair tho, as some people just need that, so I try to compromise as much as possible. Communication is super important to me. Keeping your secrets are alright, and if you’re shy or anything that’s also cool, but if I seriously ask you about smth, I’d rather you wouldn’t lie just to spare my feelings. Also, I need someone who isn’t afraid to voice their opinion if it differs my own. I’m quite into debating—over any topic, really. Thus, I might come off as rudely argumentative (which I guess I am), but it’s mostly just a matter of enjoying the mental thrill and wanting someone to consider my perspective/explain their perspective to me. Patience is another trait I really need in someone. I have ADHD, so even if I try my best to listen, I might have to ask if you could repeat whatever you just said. Also the bouts of random forgetting, my occasional impatience... yeah, adhd things. Beyond that, I believe that if you truly love someone, you can grow with them and work around any negativity.

Can’t really think of anything else rn. Thank you for doing this 💜💜💜 take care and drink some water

Hiiii! Omg I'm ENTP/INTP -T too! We chaotic as fuck. Anywayyy, here we go!

I match you with ... Zhongli!

- Ah yes, Geo Daddy himself.

- I think that Zhongli is one of those people who highly value intelligence. He's been around for a while now and seen a lot of things. Obviously, he knows that most people can't begin to approach the amount of knowledge he has accumulated over time. That's why meeting you is a pleasant surprise.

- He's an incredibly patient and supportive person so he'll have no problem entertaining your crazy ENTP ideas or any of the things that come out of crackhead hours.

- He'd like the interest you have in fashion. There's something charming about the way humans like to accessorize and change up their appearance and you do a good job of it.

- It's a good thing you like history because this guy will 100% go on long tangents about the history of the land. If you try to correct him on something, he might try to fight you. The best part is that he doesn't even realize he's doing it, he just doesn't see how he could be wrong about something like that when he's been around to see it all. Have fun with those debates... Thankfully, he doesn't mind your argumentative nature and tends to deal with it pretty calmly which just calms your down too.

- Imagine though, dates where you guys burst into old libraries or bookstores. You had just disagreed on a certain technicality of Liyue's history at sea and you are determined to be right this time. The two of you spend hours scanning over books and asking the various historians always conversing around the restaurants and at the wharf. You guys actually end up kind of attracting a bit of attention, since people find it cute that you're trying to outsmart THE Zhongli. Plot twist...

"See! I told you it was 254 years ago! You were thinking of something else!" You raise the parchment you have been pouring over for the past few minutes triumphantly over your head before presenting it to Zhongli.

The man in question takes the paper, scanning it quickly before looking back to you. "Hm, I suppose you are correct."

"I win!" Your smug little smile is full of pride as you place your hands on your hips. Perhaps to others, losing such an argument would be disagreeable but Zhongli finds it adorable more than anything else.

"Yes you do my love. Yes you do..."

- His love language is quality time too! You guys spend a lot of time just wandering around Liyue Harbor together, literally just chilling or sipping tea on the veranda, enjoying each other's company.

- Basically you have one of those relationships where you can be both very active and very chill together.

Alright there we go! I swapped out my coffee for water just for you :). Hope you enjoyed!

[headcanonsandmore]

Ronarry Headcanons: Developing futures

                     Read on FFN.                      Read on AO3. 

Summary:  In our final installment, Harry's feelings for Ron begin to change things between them. Leading to a school year that is already very complicated to begin with.

Tagging: @vivithefolle @overmelted @booigi-boi 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry Potter was asleep, his glasses askew against the window he had been leaning against.

He had been staring out the window, waiting for Dumbledore to turn up. However, in the summer heat, he had dozed off.

A couple of houses over, someone’s lawnmower got caught on a rock, and the resulting noise promptly woke Harry up.

Wiping the drool from his face, he checked the time. He still had a few minutes until Dumbledore said he’d be there. Harry had packed all his things together, ready for the off.

As often happened these days, Harry’s mind wandered to what Ron might be doing. Harry was due to stay at The Burrow that summer, after Dumbledore had collected him. With a bit of luck, Harry should be seeing his redheaded best mate within a few hours.  

That last thought gave Harry a funny feeling in his stomach that he had long since stopped ignoring.

Yes, as if his life wasn’t complicated enough as it was, Harry had fallen for his best friend. The redheaded, funny, loyal boy who had been there for Harry ever since the first day at Hogwarts.

Needless to say, things had gotten rather confused in Harry’s head. On the one hand, he loved being around Ron, but -on the other hand- every moment around Ron gave him a strange sense of sadness. Because he doubted Ron would ever see him in the same way.

After all, Ron probably fancied Hermione. This has been evident since second year, but it had become noticeably obvious in the past couple of years. It was actually surprising that Hermione and Ron hadn’t gotten together yet, considering how obvious Hermione’s feelings for Ron were.

‘Ah, how lovely to see you again, Petunia…’

Dumbledore’s voice carried up the stairs. Harry leapt out of his room, and scrambled down the stairs.

‘I trust Harry informed you of my visit?’

Petunia Dursley glared up the stairs at Harry.

‘I take it that Harry did not inform you,’ Dumbledore continued, his beard twitching with suppressed mirth. ‘But no matter; let us assume you have invited me warmly into your home.’

Dumbledore breezed past Petunia and Vernon into the sitting room. Harry let out a groan, and followed.

This was going to be fun.

~~~~~

 Well, it could have been worse. Harry didn’t think much of apparation, to be honest, and Horace Slughorn was a bit… odd.

But Harry was now at the Burrow. His heart leapt as he stared up at the familiar building; Ron was in there, and Mrs Weasley, who cooked better than anyone Harry knew.

He would have preferred not hearing about what Mr and Mrs Weasley got up to in private, but the soup was good. And it was nice to see Tonks again, even if it was very briefly. Why did she look so sad, though?

Harry woke up the next morning to Ron tapping him lightly on the side of the head. There were worse ways to wake up.

‘Mate! We didn’t think you’d be here for another few days!’

Harry smiled, as the redhead grinned down at him. Ron’s arms were covered in the scars he had gotten from the brains at the ministry. They worked their way up his skin, like dark-red tendrils. Over the summer, they had become a lot less harsh to look at, and Harry had to admit that Ron looked pretty bad-arse. Especially considering that he had got the scars whilst pushing Harry out of harm’s way.

He didn’t have much time to reflect on this, though, because Fleur had appeared, carrying a large tray of breakfast food. Ron’s face went strangely lopsided, as if he was trying not to stare.

‘It ‘as been so long, ‘Harry!’ Fleur exclaimed, putting the tray down on Harry’s lap.

‘Nice to see you too, Fleur,’ Harry said, feeling slightly awkward that she was seeing him in his pyjamas. ‘Congratulations to you and Bill, by the way!’

‘You are too kind!’ Fleur smiled, cheerily, the ring on her finger glinting in the morning sun. ‘Although it is a shame ‘e is not ‘ere. ‘E works ‘imself too ‘ard!’

‘I was bringing Harry’s food up to him,’ Mrs Weasley said, poking her head through the door.

‘It is no problem,’ Fleur replied, still smiling. ‘Nice to see you again, ‘Arry!’

Fleur and Mrs Weasley left the room, and the door closed shut behind them.

Ron began to shake his head, as if trying to get water out of his ears.

‘You okay, mate?’

‘Yeah,’ Ron mumbled, his ears turning pink. ‘It’s just a bit difficult when she appears out of nowhere like that. I know she doesn’t mean to do it, but still…’

‘It’s pathetic!’

Hermione stormed away, and stood nearby the window. Ron looked embarrassed and more than a little hurt.

‘Don’t worry about it, mate,’ Harry said. ‘Most blokes get affected by Fleur’s powers; I’m sure she understands that you can’t help it.’

Ron smiled.

A little while later, everyone was sat in the kitchen. Hermione had accidentally gotten punched by a telescope designed by the twins, and was now sporting a large black mark around one of her eyes. Harry had to admit that she looked funny, but Ron was helping Mrs Weasley try to fix it, so he kept his mouth shut.

‘You’re sure no owls have arrived this morning, Mrs Weasley?’ Hermione fretted.

‘Yes, dear, I’m sure,’ Mrs Weasley said, patiently. ‘Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll all do brilliantly.’

When Hermione saw the owls appear on the horizon through the open kitchen window, she shrieked, and grabbed both Harry and Ron painfully around the elbows. Harry pulled away, rubbing his arm, but Ron didn’t move.

Harry squashed the irritation that briefly bubbled in his stomach, and focused on opening his letter. He had received an ‘Outstanding’ in Defence Against The Dark Arts, as well as Charms. His ‘Dreadful’ in History Of Magic was understandable, given that he’d collapsed half way through the examination, and he had also received a ‘Poor’ in Divination. But he had passed everything else!

‘Swap?’ Ron asked, softly.

Harry nodded, and they exchanged letters.

Harry stared at Ron’s results; he had gotten an ‘O’ in both Charms and Transfiguration, no doubt due to his breaking of Gamps Law during his practical exam.

He had also passed History of Magic, and even Divination.

‘Awww, mate,’ Ron said, sympathetically, as he looked at Harry’s results. ‘Nevermind about Divination and History of Magic, eh.’

‘Well, I did fall asleep in the exam,’ Harry chuckled. ‘Don’t worry about that; congrats, Ron!’

Ron’s ears went slightly pink as he grinned. However, he then noticed Hermione standing quietly by herself.

‘Hermione? How did you do?’ Ginny asked, tentatively.

‘I- not bad.’

‘Oh, give it here,’ Ron said, rolling his eyes as he grabbed Hermione’s letter. ‘Yep; thought so. Nine ‘Outstanding’s and one ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Defence Against The Dark Arts.’ He grinned knowingly at Hermione. ‘Don’t tell me you’re disappointed?’

Hermione giggled, as she grinned up at Ron.

Harry turned away, once again feeling the bubbling of irritation in his stomach and hating himself for it. Just because he fancied Ron, that didn’t mean he had exclusive rights to the redhead. Even if he did get angry whenever he saw Hermione grinning at Ron like that.

~~~~~~~~~~

 A few days later, the book lists arrived, and Harry discovered that he had been made Quidditch Captain.

‘Hey, you can now use our Prefects bathroom!’ Ron exclaimed, happily.

Harry felt his cheeks burn, as his mind rapidly constructed an image of sharing a bath with Ron.

Hermione noticed this, and glowered.

~~~~~~~~

 Diagon Alley was an event as always. The twins shop was amazing, but Harry was most surprised about the behaviour of Draco Malfoy. After he, Ron and Hermione had snuck away under the cloak and done some sleuthing, Harry came to a conclusion.

‘He’s replaced his father as a death eater.’

Ron and Hermione shared doubtful looks.

‘Harry, that’s ridiculous, he’s sixteen-’

‘That’s exactly why he’s done it; Malfoy still goes to Hogwarts, after all. Voldemort must be hatching some sort of plan.’

‘I dunno, mate,’ Ron said, gently. ‘It does seem a little extreme. Remember when we thought he was the heir of Slytherin?’

‘That was different,’ Harry went on, stubbornly. ‘He’s actually got death eater pals now.’

For the next few weeks, Harry dwelled on this. What plans was Voldemort concocting this year, and what part did Malfoy have to play? Neither Ron and Hermione seemed to believe him, but Harry could half-understand their doubts. After all, they had thought Malfoy was in league with dark forces many times in the past, and he never had been.

~~~~~

 1st September swung round, and -before Harry knew it- Ron and Hermione had gone off to the prefect carriage. Ginny had also disappeared off to find Dean Thomas, but Neville had appeared shortly afterwards. Glad to find a friendly face, Harry followed Neville through the train, and found Luna sat in an otherwise-empty compartment.

Harry sat down, feeling a bit miserable without Ron.

‘Are we going to continue the DA this year?’

‘No point now, is there? Since we got rid of Umbridge.’

‘Oh, no!’ Neville said. ‘I loved going to the meetings! I learned loads from you!’

‘Yes, me too,’ Luna added. ‘I loved the meetings; it was like having friends.’

‘We are your friends, Luna,’ Harry said, earnestly.

‘That’s a very nice thing to say!’ The blonde Ravenclaw chirped.

‘Hi, Harry.’

It was Cho Chang.

‘Oh, hi.’

‘Do you mind if I sit in her with you three?’

Harry shook his head, and Cho sat down next to him.

‘Er, this is Neville and Luna.’

‘Yes, I remember you two from the DA. Are we still having meetings this year?’

Harry was just about to reply that they probably weren’t, when the door of the carriage opened again, and a scared-looking third year poked their head in.

Both Neville and Harry made their way to Slughorn’s compartment; the place was packed with various people, including Ginny, who looked confused as to why she was there.

Glad of a friendly face, Harry and Neville sat down next to her.

‘Harry, m’boy!’ Slughorn exclaimed, cheerfully. ‘Thank you for coming along!’

As Slughorn introduced his various other guests, Harry had a dawning realisation that virtually everyone in the carriage had famous relatives or had something promising about them.

Cormac McLaggen, a Gryffindor seventh-year with a rather entitled attitude, started leering at Ginny. But -before Ginny could display her famous bat bogey hex again- an announcement echoed through the train, stating that they would be arriving at Hogsmeade Station shortly.

~~~~~

 Looking back on it, hiding in Malfoy’s compartment under the invisibility cloak was a bad idea. Especially after the Slytherin had cast a full-body-lock curse on him, and then -to add insult to injury- stamped down on his nose.

Tonks mercifully managed to rescue Harry before the train had got very far, and she walked with him back to Hogwarts.

After getting a bunch of snide comments from Snape, Harry entered the Great Hall, and sat down beside Ron and Hermione. Both of them were clearly worried, especially about Harry’s broken nose, although Harry couldn’t help noticing how relieved Ron looked as Harry had appeared next to him.

~~~~~~~

 During the first Potions lesson with Slughorn (yes, that had been a shock; Harry was still angry at Dumbledore for giving Snape the Defence position), Harry had gotten the distinct impression that Slughorn had been ignoring Ron.

This was then confirmed when the new Potions master bumped into them in the entrance hall the next day. Slughorn was organising a party for his “favourites”, and had given invitations to Harry and Hermione. Paying Ron as much attention as he would to a cockroach cluster, Slughorn ambled off.

‘Do you think we’ll know anyone else at this party?’ Hermione wondered aloud.

‘Don’t worry. I expect Ginny will have been invited too,’ Ron said, sounding hurt.

Harry found himself wanting to scream. How on earth could he possibly explain that he wouldn’t go a single party if it meant he couldn’t hang out with Ron?

To add to this turbulent atmosphere, Hermione was now getting progressively more irritated with Harry’s prowess in Potions class thanks to the Half-Blood Prince’s book. She spent most lessons glaring angrily at the book as if it had personally wronged her.

Eventually, he got so sick of her griping that he asked Ron if they could do an unofficial Quidditch practice that evening. Ron cheered up quite a bit, although Hermione did not look amused.

Deciding that Ron’s need to feel included was more important than Hermione’s need to be top of every class, Harry ignored her.

~~~~~~

 After one especially difficult Quidditch session (during which Ron had accidentally thrown the Quaffle into one of the chasers mouths), Harry and Ron found themselves the last to leave the changing rooms.

‘Merlin, I wish I wasn’t so bad at this,’ Ron muttered, miserably.

‘Don’t be daft; you’re the king, remember?’ Harry said, patting Ron on the shoulder. ‘It’s just nerves; you’ll be fine after the first match!’

Ron gazed down at Harry through his eyelashes.

‘You really think so?’

‘Course! You’re a brilliant player!’

Harry kept this relentlessly supportive tone up throughout their walk back to the castle and, by the time they drew near to Gryffindor Tower, Ron looked in a much better mood.

Unfortunately, their usual shortcut was not empty; Ginny and Dean were snogging in the passageway. After Dean made a hasty exit, Ginny and Ron had started arguing.

‘Hermione snogged Krum!’ Ginny yelled, angrily. ‘It’s only you who seems to think it’s disgusting, and that’s because you have about as much experience as a twelve year old!’

Ron stared at her.

‘Yeah, I guess I do,’ he said, quietly, before leaving.

‘What the hell, Ginny?’ Harry exclaimed, as he hurried after Ron. ‘You know what’s he like about Hermione; why did you have to go and tell him… oh, forget it…’

Harry hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, running full pelt. He knew Ginny hadn’t meant to be so harsh; she had simply said it during a moment of anger. Hopefully, she and Ron would make things up within the next few days, but Harry still felt put-out by it. He knew he had no leg to stand on when it came to dealing with emotions, after all. But that didn’t make him any less worried.

Upon reaching the boys dormitory, Harry discovered that the curtains on Ron’s four poster were drawn.

‘Ron?’

There was a non-committal grunt.

Harry pulled back the curtains. Ron was sat up in bed, his legs pulled up to his torso. His blue eyes were slightly bloodshot.

‘You okay?’

Ron shrugged.

‘Dunno. I mean… I knew Krum was always into Hermione, but I never thought they’d ever… she just said they were penpals…’

‘I guess she thought you wouldn’t want to know. I mean, kissing probably isn’t that big a deal. Although I wouldn’t know, since I’ve never kissed anyone.’

Ron looked at Harry, his blue eyes sad.

Without thinking, Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ron’s. He felt the redhead startle slightly, but he did not break away. Slowly, Ron relaxed and, much to Harry’s astonishment, began to kiss him back.

Harry wished he could stay in that moment forever.

~~~~~~

 Nothing much changed. Harry had half-hoped that maybe things would, but he understood that things were changing enough as it was.

And it was definitely comforting, to know that he could kiss Ron without worrying about further ramifications.

Hermione was understandably shocked, and -although she would never admit it- upset. Harry did feel somewhat guilty, but they had both made it clear to her that they were not a couple. Simply that it was a comfort thing. Ron never found it easy to discuss this with Hermione, and Harry heard the continuing nagging in his head about why that was.

Hermione did seem somewhat colder to Ron in the following weeks. Ron was understandably rather upset by this, but Harry guessed why Hermione was acting this way. It was possible she saw that Ron was only attracted to men, a situation which Harry himself did not immediately agree with. For the simple reason that he had seen the looks Ron gave Hermione when he thought she wasn’t looking; the little soft glances and quiet stares that removed any doubt as to Ron being purely gay.

~~~~~~~

 ‘Harry, m’lad!’ Slughorn said, breaking Harry out of his concentration. ‘I’ve got a little Christmas party coming up, and I’ve cleared it with McGonagall and Hooch.’

Harry smiled uneasily. He had deliberately re-scheduling Quidditch practices whenever Slughorn had a party, so that Ron didn’t feel excluded.

‘The Quidditch season doesn’t reconvene after Christmas, so I expect you -and a partner, if you like- at the party! Bit of festive cheer is what you need! let me guess? Lovesickness?’

Harry felt himself blush, and avoided looking at Ron. Slughorn didn’t notice, and instead grinned.

‘It’s Christmas Eve at nine pm sharp! Hope you enjoy yourself!’

Later that evening, Harry was getting on with his Charms homework when…

‘So… Slughorn’s party, eh?’

Ron had sat down next to him. Harry felt his face burn again.

‘E-er, yeah. Might go along; don’t really have an excuse not to.’

‘W-well…’ Ron stammered, his ears turning red. ‘I… I could come along… I mean, if you want me to? That way we can have a laugh about it.’

‘Y-yeah, that… that’d be great,’ Harry grinned, nervously. ‘You sure you want to?’

‘Definitely.’

‘Great.’

~~~~~~~~

 Any worries that Harry might have had promptly disappeared just before they left for the party. Ron looked very handsome in the robes the twins had bought him the previous year.

‘Wow,’ Harry breathed.

‘Do… Do I look okay?’ Ron asked, nervously.

‘I think you look brilliant, mate.’

Ron’s ears turned pink.

‘Thanks. Shall… shall we get going, then?’

Harry nodded, and the two of them left for the party. Slughorn’s office had been magically expanded to several times its usual size.

‘Is Hermione here yet, you reckon?’

‘No,’ Harry said. ‘She said she wasn’t coming tonight.’

‘Oh,’ Ron said, looking a bit disappointed. Harry tried not to think too hard about that.

The two of them swept onto the dancefloor, and swayed to the music playing. Harry’s heart beat happily at the feeling of Ron’s hand on his waist, and his enveloping Ron scent.

Harry had to sneak off at one point, so he could overhear what Malfoy and Snape were talking about, but his thoughts were taken off that serious worry when he returned to Ron. The two of them had another dance.

As they arrived back at the boys’ dorm, Ron turned to Harry.

‘I had a really great time, mate.’

Without warning, Ron leaned down and kissed Harry on the lips. Nothing intense, but sweet and chaste. Harry’s stomach flipped over. They stayed like that for a while, but Harry wished it would never end.

As he lay in bed, his mind still full of the kiss they had just shared, Harry continued to wonder about things. He and Ron weren’t dating, but things between them certainly weren’t platonic. What… what was this between them?

~~~~~~

This confusion would be resolved somewhat, as Harry found himself staring down at an unconscious Ron in Slughorn’s office, having just narrowly saved Ron from poison.

He clutched at the front of Ron’s pyjamas, feeling his eyes fog with tears. He had come so close to losing Ron again. And this time it had been caused by the love potion-infused chocolate that had been given to Harry by Romilda Vane months ago.

This had been his fault.

Harry didn’t speak much for the rest of the day. He had stood outside the hospital wing with Ginny and Luna, until Hermione -who looked as scared as Harry- had arrived a little while later. Ginny and Luna had discussed the various possibilities of how the poison had ended up in Slughorn’s office.

Harry and Hermione said nothing. Both of them seemed unable to speak, and simply stared intensely at the huge oak doors of the hospital wing.

Several hours later, Madam Pomfrey opened the doors.

‘Mr Weasley is resting,’ she said, before any of them could speak. ‘You may all sit nearby him for a while. I have sent an owl to Arthur and Molly, and they should be on their way here soon.’

The four students hurried into the ward, over to the only occupied bed.

Ron was asleep, his chest rising and sinking softly under the covers.

Harry let out a deep sigh of relief, and -next to him- Hermione did too.

About twenty minutes later (although time seem to have stopped working normally in Harry’s head), Molly and Arthur burst into the room.

Molly immediately burst into tears, and pressed a motherly kiss to Ron’s cheek. Arthur put his arms around Ginny, hugging his daughter and patting her head.

Molly then turned to Harry, who flinched. But the Weasley matriarch pulled him into a tight hug.

‘Thank you,’ Molly sobbed. ‘You’ve saved Ginny, you’ve saved Arthur, now you’ve saved Ron…’

‘Half our family do seem to owe you their lives, now that I think about it.’ Arthur said, quietly. ‘Madam Pomfrey says that, if you hadn’t been there…’

Harry didn’t speak, not trusting himself to keep from crying.

‘Speaking of which,’ Ginny said, ‘It’s all very odd, isn’t it. It was a poisoned bottle that Ron drank from; if whoever planted it was after Dumbledore, they didn’t know Slughorn very well.’

‘That makes it worse, doesn’t it.’

Hermione had spoken. Her quivery voice sounded like Harry felt, and he remembered that he wasn’t the only person in the room who couldn’t bare a world without Ron.

‘Y-yeah,’ Harry said. ‘This person -whoever they are- doesn’t care who they hurt.’

Hermione nodded.

There was a mumbling noise from the bed. They all looked round.

‘A-ree,’ mumbled Ron, still very much asleep. ‘Er-my-nee…’

They all stared at Ron for a while, but he continued to mumble incomprehensibly in his sleep, before going silent.

Interesting, Harry thought, and his heart began to hope.

~~~~~~

 Harry had gotten the memory from Slughorn. Despite having had no sleep that night, he was feeling surprisingly cheerful.

‘Well, it wasn’t a good night for everyone,’ Hermione continued, matter-of-factly. ‘Ginny broke up with Dean.’

Harry looked down the table; Dean was sat, looking rather miserable, with Seamus.

‘Any reason why?’

‘Oh, something silly,’ Hermione responded. ‘Apparently, he wouldn’t let her climb through the portrait hole by herself.’

‘Ah.’

A shrewd look came over Hermione’s face.

‘Harry, you didn’t cause this, did you?’

‘Not intentionally!’ Harry exclaimed. ‘It was when I was going to get the memory off Slughorn; I must have accidentally nudged against Ginny when I was leaving the common room.’

‘Do you think that was the effect of the Felix?’

Harry shrugged.  

‘Ginny not turning up to breakfast, I take it?’

‘No,’ said Luna, who happened to be passing. ‘She said she’d rather sit down by the lake; I’m taking her some toast now.’

Harry and Ron shared a knowing look as Luna left the hall.

‘Well, that explains some things, doesn’t it…’

‘What?’ Hermione asked, looking confused.

‘You know…Ginny and Luna…’

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise.

‘You mean… the two of them… together? Gosh, I never even noticed.’

‘Brightest witch of her age, ladies and gentlemen,’ Harry cheeked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, as Ron laughed fondly.

~~~~~~~

 Harry had missed the final Quidditch match of the season. He had been stuck in detention with Snape, after using a spell he had read in the Half Blood Prince’s book on Malfoy. Well, Malfoy had been trying to use Crucio on Harry at the time, but Harry had never meant to cause such harm.

Upon finishing his detention (the first of many, according to Snape), he had dashed back to Gryffindor Tower, where he hurriedly told the password, hoping for some hint as to the result of the match.

‘You’ll see.’ The Fat Lady said, her expression frustratingly neutral.

The portrait creaked open, and a cacophony of noise erupted through the hole. Scrambling through, Harry discovered the entirety of Gryffindor House in rampant and joyous celebration.

‘We won, Harry; we won!’ Ron declared, brandishing the Quidditch Cup above his head.

Ron’s eyes were wide with happiness, and he ran towards Harry. He threw his arms around the shorter boy, lifting Harry off his feet.

And, without planning it, without considering that fifty people were watching them, Harry kissed him.

There was a very pregnant silence. Harry and Ron -both blushing furiously- broke apart.

Fifty pairs of eyes watched them. Suddenly, there was a wolf-whistle from the back of the room, and an outbreak of nervous giggling.

Ginny was beaming happily, hand-in-hand with Luna, while Dean and Seamus were giving Harry the thumbs up.

Hermione was stood a little way away, and her mouth had fallen open.

‘H-Hermione?’ Ron stammered.

The bushy-haired witch walked over, grabbed Ron by the front of his robes, and promptly pressed her lips to his.

The common room –as one- goggled, as Ron and Hermione did little aside from press closer together.

Then-

‘Oy!’ Harry said, and his two friends broke apart, blushing furiously.

Luna let out a giggle.

~~~~~~~~

A little while later, Harry and Ron were nervously stood in their dormitory.

‘Harry?’

‘Y-yeah?’

‘A-are we… you know…’

There was a very long pause, as Harry’s mind swam with emotions.

‘I… I…’

‘Because… I…’

‘W-what?’ Harry stammered.

‘It’s just… and with Hermione…’

Harry felt his stomach turn to ice. Ron seemed to realise what he had just said, and hurriedly continued

‘But with you as well… I… I’m so confused…’

Oh.

That wasn’t so bad.

‘Ron… do you… you know… like me?’

Ron looked at Harry, his ears pink.

‘Y-yeah. I do. Not just as a friend, either.’

‘I… I feel the same way about you.’

Ron smiled, before kissing Harry softly. Which Harry was enjoying more and more with every time it happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~

 Unfortunately, things got progressively worse from that point onwards.

Dumbledore was dead. There was a war to be fought, and Harry had never felt more alone in his life.

Ron was helping Hermione out of her chair, the bushy-haired witch crying into his shoulder as he did so.

When they reached him, Hermione pulled away from Ron, looking guiltily at Harry. But Harry felt no jealousy.

Ron reached out, and pulled Harry into a hug.

As the carriages arrived at the castle, Harry looked up at Hogwarts Castle, wondering if he’d ever see it again.

‘What are you going to do, Harry?’

‘Well, I’m going to go back to the Dursleys. Just one last time; I think it’s what Dumbledore would have wanted.’

‘And after that?’

‘I’m gonna track down the remaining Horcruxes. But –before that- I think I need to visit Godric’s Hollow. That’s where it all started. And if I meet Snape along the way; so much the worse for him.’

‘Fair enough,’ Ron said. ‘But you’re still coming round to the Burrow this summer.’

‘Why?’

‘Bill and Fleur’s wedding, of course!’

Harry grinned. The fact that something so wonderfully ordinary as a wedding could still happen was wonderful.

‘C’mon, mates; time to get moving.’

Ron put his arms around Harry and Hermione’s shoulders, and the three of them walked down the path towards the carriages.

Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. Harry leaned into Ron’s side, and the redhead hugged him tighter with his arm, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head.

Things might not be alright now, but they would be. He had Ron. And that was good enough. More than good enough.

The End

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading through to the end, everyone! Hope you liked this concluding chapter! 

I know I originally said I was going to continue throughout all the books, but I honesty don't think I could have kept Harry and Ron apart for another year without it seeming artificial. I was worried I would end up getting bored of writing this series, and not giving it the proper treatment it deserves. Hence why we are ending this story here instead of extending it into 'Deathly Hallows' territory.

Thank you all so much for the amazing comments you've given throughout the publication of this series, and it means so much to me that people are enjoying my retelling of the series in this AU! :)