#which is slowly killing them (their psyche is physically lashing out at them). So they also. Try to end the world.

[transmasc-rose]

RULES: make a poll with 5 of your all-time favorite characters and then tag 5 people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite! (tagged by @seaweedstarshine)

Tagging (don't worry if you don't want to/have done it already!): @transgenderdoctorwhomst @27-27-gruff-triplets @quietwingsinthesky @lost-tardis-room @a-shard-of-quartz-lol

[mrsgiovanna]

Between guilt and obsession (Yan! Don Giorno x Fem! Reader)

A nonnie mouse asked how would the unhinged Don act if his s/o was almost killed, and this is how I imagined it. I'm sorry in advance my nonnie, 😅😢♥️💕🐞

TW: mentions of injuries, anxiety, yandere themes, implied death.

Word Count: 1.4k

The atmosphere inside the villa was miserable, devoid of any of the joy you usually colored the place with. Giorno, usually found in his study on days that he spent at home, was nowhere to be found either. The harrowing silence was broken by the sound of metal striking the marble flooring as the young Don emerged from the basement, wiping his bloodied hands on a towel, coloring the plush white cotton material red. There was no joy in his eyes, none of the sparkle that was usually there, the emeralds had been clouded over by moss.

Your eyelids felt weighted down as you attempted to pry them open with much difficulty. You realize that the bed you’re lying on doesn’t feel the same as the one you have grown accustomed to. Finally, able to sit up and take in your surroundings, you realized that you were in the main bedroom of the villa- you were in Giorno’s room. Your rooms had an adjoining door separating them, but you always spent most of your time in your own space. Feeling dizzy as you swung your legs off the bed, the events of the day came screaming back to you, and you were panic stricken once again, the only difference was that Giorno wasn’t there to help you manage your emotions- this time you were alone.

It started off like any other normal day… well as normal as could be in your sheltered little world. You were preparing to go out with Giorno when a knock on your door interrupted you while you put on your mascara. Continuing to primp your lashes, you found it odd when you heard the second knock, as the blond would usually just knock once and let himself in, but this time nobody walked in, prompting you to answer the door upon the third knock. Everything happened so quickly, you didn’t have time to react before the enemy’s arm ran through your body, feeling the searing pain and then nothing at all, your vision clouded over seeing a golden glow envelop your body, you were jolted back to lucidity for a moment when the most intense physical pain overtook your body… and then darkness again, the last sound you heard being Giorno’s guttural scream.

Giorno checked to ensure you were still alive, with his guards already having apprehended the offender who, he decided, would be dealt with by him, personally, later on. For now, his main concern was you and ensuring that you were okay. Being driven halfway to insanity by the large blood splatter in your room, he carried your unconscious body to his room. Gently laying you down on the bed, he waited for you to open your eyes once again, knowing that you were going to be inconsolable by anyone other than himself. Just as he predicted, you were in shock, and it took a lot of gentle coaxing to calm you down while he waited for the effects of the adrenalin to wear off, which resulted in you passing out again, this time, in a deep slumber as opposed to being on the precipice of death.

Having seen you teetering so close to demise under his watch, was a personal insult to his entire sense of being, and unfortunately for you both, something in him shattered. Locking you inside his room and further reinforcing the entrance with vines, he starts walking to the basement to deal with the offender, GER materializing next to him, with a similar expression of rage on their face, ready to dole out a punishment worse than death.

With the threats neutralized and security being amplified yet again, there was no longer any imminent danger… other than the damage done to Giorno’s psyche. When he came to unlock the doors and let you out, his entire demeanor had changed, his voice monotonous, and his displays of affection were robotic, as if he was running on autopilot. He had all your things moved from your room to his without entertaining any arguments, permanently sealing off the room that served as a reminder of his shortcomings.

In the days that followed, Giorno became more and more aloof, it seemed paradoxically, that the closer you were in physical proximity to one another, the further your minds drifted from each other. Even though you were ensnared by him under the most questionable circumstances, you grew to care for him, although you wondered if your yearning was exacerbated by the fact that nobody in the villa interacted with you as freely as they once did, due, in no small part, to Giorno no doubt. Knowing the limits to how much of this you could handle you resolved to speak to the young don about this, staying up so you could catch him just before he got into bed after his shower.

You watched him crack the joints in his neck and shoulders with a sigh before pulling on his sleepwear.

“Gio…” you said in a soft voice, not wanting to startle him.

“Oh… (y/n), I thought you were asleep.” He answered you with his back still facing you, getting the last bit of water out of his hair.

“I couldn’t fall asleep… Gio, talk to me… I know you’re not okay,”

“I’m fine,” his curt response annoyed you, but you pushed on with the conversation.

“You’re lying, I know how you usually are, and this isn’t it. Your entire attitude towards me has changed, it’s like you hate me,” saying that struck a nerve, as he stopped drying his hair to turn around and look at you, unsure of how to reply to something so absurd.

“You can’t even deny it… if you hate me so much, then just let me go. Just get rid of me, anything would be better than existing like some wilting rose in an ornate vase,” you were finally able to place the emotion flashing in his eyes, he was angry… still.

“Get rid of you? I see I’ve been too lenient with you…”

“Stop acting like this… You’re not like this… not with me anyway,”

“Clearly, you’ve forgotten who you’re speaking to…”

“I haven’t, but I’m tired of speaking to Don Giovanna, I want to talk to Gio,”

“He’s gone...” He hated doing this to you, but he needed desperately for you to stop goading him. his mind was a mess, he needed comfort from you, hoping you would get his silent hints.

“Oh? Well then, I wonder if he even existed at all?” the tears pricked at your eyes, but you willed them not to fall, not in the middle of this.

“Stop…” Giorno’s voice came out as a whisper.

“Oh? Possessions aren’t supposed to speak, I’m sorry Don Giovanna,”

“Please, (y/n), stop it…”

“What? You don’t like repeating yourself?”

“Why are you provoking me like this? What do you want from me?” shouted Giorno, fisting the mirror he was looking into, causing his knuckles to bleed.

“I want you to let out your frustration about what happened, let it go and move on, or this is going to kill us both… I hate seeing you like this, knowing that this isn’t really who you are, I hate what you’re becoming, and I hate how I react to you when you’re like this!” your tears unfortunately betrayed you and left shiny streams across your cheeks.

Giorno inched his way towards you, a mixture of guilt and sorrow plaguing his heart. He didn’t want this incident to end up affecting you anymore than it already had but his inability to shake off his guilt combined with the austere instructions given to all his staff managed to create a miserable existence for you. Being blinded by his own rage and flashbacks to all the times he wasn’t able to save his precious allies, turned him into the very thing he swore to protect you from.

“(y/n) … bella, I’m sorry… none of this is your fault, and I could never hate you. I…” you saw the light slowly seep back into his eyes, vibrant emeralds regaining their shine, glossy with pent up emotions.

“Shhh, it will be okay,” you gently grasp his bloodied hand, “Why aren’t you fixing this? It looks painful… I know you have the ability to do so” you propose to him, touching the area of own former injury.

Contemplating whether or not to just leave his hand the way it was to serve as a reminder, the expectant look on your face convinced him otherwise, the softest of smiles blooming on your face when the wounds disappeared. It was then that Giorno realized that as much as he had orchestrated your need for him, perhaps he needed you around even more.

[fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper]

Hi hi! i think you said asks were open in your newest post? If not feel free to ignore this lol

I would love to see headcannons of an MC who, though acting brave, gets very scared of the brothers

example after lucifer and the grimoire and such? like MC slowly becomes MORE scared of them, and tries to hide it, but it's getting obvious that theyre scared if that makes sense lol 💖

Ahhhhh, sorry this took longer than it necessarily should have! I feel like I was much closer to what you wanted with this request than the other, so hopefully you'll enjoy it too ❤️

GN MC THAT PROGRESSIVELY FEARS THE BROTHERS

Living with demons is hard, especially when they're the rulers of hell, err, the Devildom.

Sure, there's the implication they're not supposed to hurt or do anything harmful to you, as you have the safety of being an exchange student, but that veil of ignorance was quickly lifted before even the two week mark of living with these brothers.

You've tried getting along with them, and for the most part you've been successful, but a few circumstances have arisen that have reminded you that these boys are dangerous demons... and you're the human that keeps poking the three-headed dog while it sleeps.

Mammon:

You're not so much scared of what Mammon could physically do, but you're paranoid that he goes into your room and rummages in your belongings and personal keepsakes. Your room is the only thing you have that you can claim as your own, and it's your sanctuary, despite it being in the brothers' house.

Of course, the brothers will periodically just barge in without alerting you by asking or knocking, but you've grown okay with that. You're at least in your room and able to see what they do in there. There are a few occasions Levi or Satan might mention going into your bedroom to retrieve a video game or book they had loaned you, but you make sure to put their item on the dresser by the entrance, so they don't have to venture too far in. You're okay with that.

You're not okay, however, with Mammon when he goes into your room unannounced. Hell, you're not totally comfortable with him being in your room unattended if he does give you a heads-up.

You know how kleptomaniac Mammon can be. You've heard enough complaints and stories to know how relentless Mammon can be in his search for anything that could give him a few Grimm from his brothers. You've talked with this greedy demon about items he's stolen, witnessed thefts a few times too.

So, you feel something akin to victimized when Mammon goes into your room without your permission or you being there. Your room emits this vibe of disturbance, and it bothers you because you don't know what might be missing or "borrowed". It troubles you more because now your room feels foreign again, like the atmosphere was plagued by essences that you know aren't yours. Your anxiety swells with paranoia, fear, and mistrust again.

Leviathan:

Oh, for the most part, you don't have much conflict with Levi anymore. Once you made a pact with the otaku demon he relaxed a lot more and invited you to hang out in his room to play games or fuss about animation qualities in animes or gush about his favorite manga characters.

It's just that after that contest of who was the bigger TSL fan and Levi, enveloped by jealousy and fury, came at you with the intent to seriously harm you, you've had this overly-suspicious fear in the back of your mind, itching your paranoia that it could happen again.

You've learned that Levi's demon form is easily triggered by extreme feelings, rather that's excitement, irritability, or the emotion he avatars over, and you can't help be irritationally cautious when that happens. It's a reflex from the panic that engraved itself into your psyche for self-preservation.

If you weren't so anxious about another envy-fueled incident involving your life you might find Levi's excitement for the stuff he loves more endearing and cute.

Beelzebub:

If you hadn't seen how destructive Beel's tantrums over food firsthand could be you might find it hard to believe this relaxed and mostly uninvolved brother would have such a temper... but you did experience it, so you do believe it.

It was a custard! They're so easy to get more of, but Beel immediately flew off the handle and wouldn't see reasoning, lashing out and destroying the kitchen. If Mammon hadn't pulled you down with him to the floor as Beel started his outraged tantrum you're positive you would have been collateral damage too, like your poor room that was unfortunately placed on the other side of the kitchen wall.

It was a terrifying sight to behold, seeing the kitchen torn asunder and reduced to broken walls, obliterated cabinets, and smashed counters, with kitchen utensils and ruined cookware being sent into flight and raining down, razor-sharp and shattered into broken edges that could easily pierce flesh.

That moment of destruction lingers, along with the intense emotion of fright, triggered whenever Beel complains about being hungry or when he meets your gaze at the table during times to eat. You immediately offer your unfinished plate to him, which he happily accepts and consumes in seconds, to appease the Avatar of Gluttony's temper.

Asmodeus:

Asmo's promiscuity and salaciousness are what unnerve you the most. He's the Avatar of Lust, so obviously you were already on your defense, but you've seen glimpses beyond the surface level to what Asmo can be like. That's what intrigues you about him, and you try to focus on those bits that slip past his perfectionistic lifestyle and narcissistic personality. At the same time, however, this is the cause of your near downfalls when Asmo tries to allure you with his physical prowess.

He's tried a few times to charm you, and you feel this invasive power trying to persuade you to give into your raw and sexual temptations, or this tugging sensation that tries to attract you beyond what you feel is comfortable. The repulsed response is usually what repels you from the power Asmo tries to flaunt over you.

He usually huffs after his failed attempt but quickly rebounds by placing his hands around you and trying to embrace you himself, which Mammon, prompted by his denied feelings and jealousy, usually intercepts in your honor.

There's a few times you've worried yourself nauseous Asmo will corner you, and you won't be able to save yourself from his lustful persuasion. There's also the couple of times he's mentioned eating your heart, so that's also worrisome.

Satan:

There's no questions that you secretly fear Satan, more specifically his wrath. You slighted him once before, and the threat he imposed upon you while you were trapped between his demonic form and an over-stuffed bookcase was enough to brand itself to your soul as a reminder.

As docile as Satan may appear with his affection for cats, deep interest for detective shows, and shared affinity of books he could and, possibly, would rip you apart and lavish in the blood that wept from your lacerated flesh and tension of your bones rebelling before snapping satisfactory in halves and thirds.

Other than that, Satan is much easier to hang out with compared to his brothers, except when he gets that cruel temperament to torment Lucifer, which you exempt yourself from if the pranks are too excessive.

Belphegor:

Terror has never seeped into your soul like this before. Your anxiety spikes to levels you've never experienced before when Belphie plops down next to you on the couch or tries to start up a conversation. Your fight, flight, freeze, or fawn system goes haywire, and you become petrified, unable to respond properly.

You either stay away from Belphie altogether or stay glued to one of the other brothers, Mammon or Beel preferably. Just in case.

Just in case Belphie's lament arises again in the form of murderous hate, gleeful contempt clouding his eyes, as his hands find their way to your neck that remembers the tight embrace his fingers engraved into the nerves of your throat, the ghostly suffocating that chokes you up sometimes if you become too immersed in the memory of a body that hadn't belonged to you.

You're also sure you remember an aching in your ribs and spine that causes you to shiver sometimes, but you're not sure if you experienced that in a dream or illusion of the timeline merging. It still bothers you all the same.

For such a sweet face and quiet voice, Belphie is a demon that decieves, and you're better off staying away from him until you're over your PTSD. If that's possible.

Lucifer:

How many times has he almost killed you? Twice or three times? Enough to be too many and to penetrate your core with panic and trepidation whenever you see that sly smile that forms on his lips. It doesn't have to be directed at you, but it's enough to launch you into a panic attack that you barely keep under control.

That safety guard of being a representative from the human world and exchange student mean nothing when you test it by being a busybody in affairs that definitely don't involve you over and over again, especially when it's the pride and dignity of Lucifer being tested.

You hear your lesson but never learn, and unconsciously you must be masochistic for how many times you've brushed death with Lucifer's anger, but you keep pushing the limits.

You can't help going to Mammon's defense when you feel Lucifer is only targeting him for personal reasons or standing up to his ego when you feel he's going over his limits. Your bravery is stupidity though, and you feel your courageous backbone turn into a central nerve system of adrenaline and fear. You're just too stubborn and self-righteous to let Lucifer do as he pleases, but that doesn't mean you're not scared out of your wits.

You've gained an intuition for when Lucifer is approaching or silently comes up from behind you, and it sends a shiver down your back almost every time you're alone together.

If you have any headcanons that you want me to write, please send them my way! I enjoy writing these out. NSFW is okay, but please know I might not do it if I don’t like it. ❤️

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Teddy Bear Anon has purposed yet another interesting addition to the Immune AU which gives me plot ideas! In particular, a scene that would really help give past Dream a strong push into his character arc. 

I like to image that immune!Dream’s character arc starts with the death of immune!Puffy. Sure, maybe he’s not sad yet, but he feels something for the woman who declared herself his pseudo mother. It’s what helps to crack the shell enough for the rest of the immune gang to start weedling their way into his heart. Immune!Dream after spending enough time watching the group he, starts to realize that yeah, connections to other people isn’t a weakness. It really is a strength. It’s something that takes time for him to come to terms with because Techno seems like a testament to the fact connections are a weakness. He was unbeatable until his horse got kidnapped. His only connection, his only weakness. But then there’s Tommy who seems to represent the complete opposite. 

Where Dream represents strength from caring too little, Tommy represents strength from caring far too much. Now I’m a sucker for bamf Tommy, and I like to personally imagine that maybe the Immunes hold out for a year or two before they cave and try to make the portal. So Tommy has what really boils down to a two year training arc on top of already being a child veteran (I like to canonize SMP Earth as well because personal preference and it gives me even more room to make Tommy suffer. SMP Earth being canon? God, so much fucking trauma considering how the others treated him, a 15 year old child, like an adult.) Anyway Dream slowly realizes connections with one another are what kept the remaining Immunes alive, and he tries to force his younger self to understand that. Tries, but doesn’t really get far. Up until what everyone else calls The Fight.

Tommy’s always just kind of screwed around in fights as long as there’s only a threat to him. We know he has a tendency to throw if MCC is any indicator. But then they time travel and maybe they spend some time in the past trying to get the situation sorted and the past’s Dream maybe just kinda does something to Tubbo. Doesn’t even have to be big, it just needs to clock as a threat to Immune!Tommy who’s already lost his Tubbo and refuses to let his younger self go through that. So Tommy goes completely ape shit on the younger Dream. Sure, it’s only been two years for this Tommy. He’s probably, like, 18 or 19 at most. Still a child as far as a lot of people are concerned. He shouldn’t be stronger than Dream or Technoblade, and in the few cross group sparing sessions they’ve had he isn’t. He’s stronger than his younger self but no where near these two demi gods of combat. But then Dream suddenly registers as a threat to Tubbo in Immune!Tommy’s eyes and he makes the mistake of mocking Tommy while he’s at it. He knows that immune!Tommy lost his Tubbo and maybe the past Dream is lashing out slightly or trying to get some kind of foothold in Tommy’s psyche. He isn’t doing anything near what immune!Dream has done, but it’s enough to piss Tommy off. So immune!Tommy challenges Dream to a fight and Dream immediately realizes the mistake he’s made when Tommy starts to destroy him. 

Say even Techno’s there for some reason or another and he realizes what’s going down so he tries to calm Tommy down, joining the fight just as Dream is loosing it. The situation quickly turns into the first time Techno’s ever gotten his ass thoroughly kicked by Tommy, leaving everyone spectating baffled (Tommy’s younger self partly included). They’re certain this kid is going on some rampage and none of them can stop him but the moment Dream and Techno are both taken care of (wounded, not killed, the older Tommy is always careful about that. He even throws a splash healing on them with some indifferent kind of disgust that hides the fact he does still care to some extent even hurting as he is.) Tommy immediately just switches focus to outright doting on Tubbo, ignoring any muttered Clingyinnits in favor of ensuring Tubbo is fine. Tubbo is completely find and just as confused, but the point stands and neither Tommy ends up leaving Tubbo’s side for the rest of the day. The younger Tommy, after all, is the only one the older Tommy’s told the full story to regarding the future (even when he couldn’t trust his own family he was always able to trust himself with the secrets that mattered, so he prepares his younger self in case the worst comes to pass.)

The older Dream, immune!Dream, he doesn’t get involved. He sit on the side lines and just kinda laughs, the sound drowned out by Sapnap’s loud encouragements and Sam’s half hearted attempts to get Tommy to stop (he could have stopped Tommy immediately if he’d stepped in. Sam is after all the only person on earth Tommy listens to without hesitation, but Sam lets it happen and pretends he tried.) 

Immune!Dream just kinda smirks at his younger self later that night and mentions something about attachments really making you weak. After all, it’s not like the only time Tommy takes a battle seriously is when someone he cares about is in danger. It’s not like Tommy would turn the world into a seared ball for Tubbo, and Tubbo would do the same in return. It’s not like they’ve watched the people they care about temporarily rebuke the Crimson just to give the Immunes those precious extra seconds needed to survive in a fight. Attachments, they’re just a weakness.

The younger Dream doesn’t know how to respond to that. It’s the first time he thinks about his older self maybe being right.

Before I go I wanna leave you with two more ideas for the Immune AU

First up, Wilbur is eight years older than Tommy give or take. Wilbur had Fundy when he was around 16 and Tommy was around 8. Tommy was the best damn uncle he could be and for a while Tommy and Fundy were really stupidly close. They were both apart of the raised by Wilbur club and Wilbur was trying his damn best. Fundy aged/matured (physically and mentally) faster than a regular person for a while. They believed it was because he was a fox hybrid and Wilbur was ready to lose Fundy too soon. When Fundy was equivalent to 18 in human years though his aging process suddenly slowed to a crawl and his tail split into two, at which point the group realized he was actually a kitsune and it was just those first 8 years that passed by quickly (and Wilbur had a lot of questions for the now missing Sally who he’d thought was a salmon hybrid, genuinely, but became exceedingly less sure.) His family knows he’s a kitsune, but Fundy hid it from most of the rest of the server. A good thing considering later events. 

Fundy was part of the Immune group for a while and I like to imagine that he and Tommy had a falling out during the Pogtopia era but after the egg started to take over they started bonding again and acting like, well, family. Unfortunately when it came time for them to activate the portal, Fundy ended up getting separated from the group and getting caught. The eggpire didn’t actually know Fundy was fully immune or a kitsune so he just kinda pretended to get infected, using his illusions to make his fur look crimson. I personally like the idea that Fundy at some point managed to get back to the time machine and being a little code wizard manages to get the thing working and yeets himself in. He shows up a little late but after fixing his appearance manages to catch up with the rest of the group.

Fundy is underrated. Tommy being a good uncle is underrated. Sam would absolutely adopt the traumatized fox baby in Eret’s honor. What’s not to love?

The last concept I wanna bring up that I really like is hybrid Tommy. Tanuki would be good since it’s another reason for the Sam Nook bit. Maybe Sam specifically picked Sam Nook since Tom Nook was Tommy’s favorite character on the grounds he was the only representation Tommy had ever gotten and it made the kiddo happy. However, I also personally really like phoenix Tommy and it would make an interesting plot point. Tommy accidentally losing his third life at some point and realizing he’s an immortal creature of fire would have led to him taking a protector role for his new family. He can’t die, but he can burn anything around him, why not send him out to get supplies when the worst the eggpire could do would be capture him. Even then he just literally cannot hear the egg. Which could lead to both some interesting comedic moments and some really good angst if Sam agonizes over his desire to protect Tommy and let him be a child suddenly being at odds with the fact Tommy is literally the best person for the job so to speak. Not to mention Sapnap, who I headcanon as a Blaze hybrid, would be even more attached the moment he found a new fire proof friend to burn forests with him. Regardless of which hybrid type he is, I could see him hiding it from everyone except for Fundy when he was a child and only ever admitting it later to the other Immunes once they become a found family.

Personally I like the idea of Tommy being part tanuki hybrid and part phoenix hybrid, but is that too mary sue? Is it just a little bit too cheesy to have him be both? I will never not try to incorporate phoenix Tommy into my fics but also tanuki Tommy would be such a mood for this au.

Like image Tommy just builds a den that’s in reality a vault/panic room a la Techno and he hides it under Church Prime since that is The Safe Spot in Tommy’s mind.

~Snapdragon & Firefly

[austarus]

Harry Wells x Reader Crisis of Infinite Wells (Part 4 of 5)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @moonymartell​ and @countlesswells​

** *Insert angel face emoji*

Word Count: 7267

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 5

‘Systems Online,’ a pop-up signal had indicated on the tablet you held with flashing red and white lettered lights. But the adrenaline in your veins would not subside. Taking in a breath of rushed air, you walked towards the monitors on jittery feet with the notion of checking on Nash. Looking back up at him, his eyes were shut, and his lithe body was reclined in the chair with machinery hooked up to him. You dread ball up in the pit of your stomach as silence hung in the air.

“Did it work?” Ralph questioned, glancing to everyone then back to you; confusion written on his face.

“Is there something that should have happened?” Barry followed up beside Ralph.

“Well if there was a big bang sound, followed by multiple spontaneous sparks flying everywhere and the room’s electricity short-circuiting along with small fires combusting from the machinery then we’d be in trouble.” You watched Nash’s neurological and physiological vitals rise and fall within homeostatic values on the monitors. Normal. Stable. “I- According to my theoretical calculations- yes, I’m getting science-y right now-,” you exhaled while you gestured with your hands as you spoke, “each psyche that had manifested itself into Nash’s being should have effectively split from his psyche and returned to their respective bodies in each dimension harboring a Harrison Wells doppelganger. Harry and the others hypothesized that their bodies must be unconscious, but alive in order for their psyches to remain intact within Nash’s mind.” The others looked unsure. You rubbed your exhausted eyes. “It’s just like how when you and Iris used the Mindscape Machine to enter into Nora’s mindscape when she went into Grace’s mind. Sherloque said you both would enter with your psyche’s and they had to be intact in Nora’s head in order to ensure you’d be able to return to your bodies unharmed. If the psyche is harmed and killed in any way, then the body essentially dies,” You took a step towards them away from the monitors with the tablet held close to you. “The reverse should be correct as well. If the psyche is absent from the body, the body must be preserved at stable levels in order for the psyche to return and realign itself in its proper body. That’s what we’re relying on. Hopefully they all made it back to their respective bodies.”

“In this case, it’s the multidimension of Wells,” Chester interjected, lowering his voice to a whisper. “So freaking cool.” Allegra rolled her eyes as she continued to cross her arms.

“Nash would have felt the absence of a Wells in his psyche if another doppelganger’s psyche had deteriorated due to its unconscious body not surviving. Wolfgang would be able to pinpoint who it is because he has a neurological roster of the Council of Wells that he had implemented into his own mind, therefore his own psyche.”

Iris spoke up after you finished, running a hand over her forearm as she resisted the urge to itch the patch of skin. Side effects from remaining in the Mirrorverse for too long. “So, they get back to their bodies. Then what? How are they going to get here?”

“Each Wells should be able to use their intelligence as well as tapping into their own resources on their Earth and use the dimensional coordinates they have to get relay their dimensional coordinates and the states of their Earth’s back to Earth-Prime,” You answered in a heartbeat with a snap of a finger. “Sherloque, Harry, and Wolfgang should be coming as soon as they wake up. They work fast and everything.”

“Ugh,” Cisco groaned in irritation, throwing his head back, “not Herr ‘off-you-go’ Wells.” The rest of us giggled at impending misery. “I swear if he makes one snide remark.”

“Wait, how do you know if we’ve got all the Wells and their dimensions? Is there some sort of algorithm the satellites are tracking?” Kamila added from beside Cisco. You watched his eyes melt a bit at the fact that she takes interest in understanding his areas of expertise like how he does to her photography and artistic nature.

You gave Cisco the honors of explaining that one. He turned to his lovely girlfriend. “My babies up in the heavens, god bless my mechanical genius, are calibrated with the finest technology to identify any molecular or subatomic shifts produced by any wave of dark matter or antimatter.” Kamila grinned at him as he continued. “But we won’t know for certain until Grumpy Cat, Tea Leaves, and Herr Prim-Posh Pants summon themselves through to correctly calibrate the DCP (Dimensional Communications Projector) to the actual dimensional values. You know, the Wells touch and all. God, but I swear if they break anything-”

“-They’re not,” you giggled as you cut off your annoyed friend, “I already told Harry that this area would be a ‘No Throw’ zone. The guys know better than to throw things that aren’t theirs too.”

“What about Nash?” Cecile pointed at the unconscious man.

Right, this part. “I will stay here to monitor any changes to his vitals until he wakes up. I already have a universal blood sample from our very own speedster in case Nash’s body were to start entering a state of flux. Barry’s cells should be able to repair any damage in Nash’s body if that were to happen. Just like he did to Ralph.”

“But Ralph’s body is pure elastic. It can bend and readjust itself to anything. Nash’s human.” You make a very excellent point, Cecile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve already run tests on myself and Cisco in order to ensure that the small blood transfusion would work on non-metas.” You fist-bumped your bro, who nodded approvingly. “Tiny increments should be able to do the trick.” Cecile nodded at you, giving you a motherly proud look before it contorted into a pointed one. You knew what she was going to say, but before she had a chance to say it the meta alarm went off.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave things to you,” Barry smiled at you, before nodding everyone to the direction of the door.

“Don’t die out there,” you teasingly yelled at their retreating figure.

“We’ll try not to.”

“And Barry, you need to do a prognosis physiological and biochemical report on your body from using the artificial Speed-force. Can’t have you losing your speed halfway through the day.”

“Yes, mother, I’ll be home before dinner to do homework,” Barry snickered, as he waved you off as he left with the others.

You rolled your eyes playfully at your antics with him and the others. Taking a seat in front of the monitors, you gave Nash another look. No matter how many times I can joke around with the others, I still feel the weight of their lives on my shoulder. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as your eyes flickered onto the screens. You need to wake up soon Nash. Running a hand through your hair as you set your head against your arm which leaned on the metal table. I need to know I didn’t kill you.

***

An hour had passed, and you felt your head was down to its last brain cell. You blinked slowly as you laid it against the cool metal. Nash was still unconscious, and you were starting to get worried. His vitals were still substantially at equilibrium. You shut your eyes for a moment. Allegra strode in with an annoyed look on her face as her eyes landed on Nash then to you.

“I don’t get why you care about him,” her rushed voice caused you to lift your head up. She continued while you quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why you’re wasting time watching over him. I mean after everything he’s done to me and the rest of us. Hell, he took your boyfriend away from you for some shit myth-busting. How is it that you still try to make yourself available to help someone like him?” It pisses me off and so does his existence!

“Allegra, Nash’s a human being too.”

“Ugh, whatever.” The young adult padded over to where some tech lied in attempts to obtain the thing that Cisco had described he needed.

“Ok, no. I can’t do this today.”

“Excuse me?” she narrowed her eyes at your change in tone. What’s got her panties all in a sudden twist?

“I’m am so tired of your bullshit attitude towards him,” You threw out, standing up from your chair with flared nostrils. “Your incessant whining when we don’t tell you every little detail about us, and how you treated the rest of us like dirt as if we haven’t been trying to stay by your side.”

“I haven’t-”

“Do you honestly not remember the way you treated Joe and Cecile? With rudeness and hostility and utter venom? When they had tried to get you to trust them to keep you safe from your cousin? How you were so pissy at Iris for not telling you about Team Flash? How you sneered and lashed out at Frost for trying to help you with your boy problems? We’re just going to sweep all that under the rug and call it a day?” You rhetorically asked with utter frustration. “And Nash, what is your problem with him? That he didn’t tell you that his adopted daughter who died right in front of him is your doppelganger? That’s your reason to emotional and mentally abuse him?! Boohoo, he didn’t tell me the truth. I’m a journalist I have to know the truth.”

“I don’t know wh-”

How can one person be so selfish? “Yes, you do. I’m a family practitioner, I know the signs of abuse even if it isn’t physical. 1) The silent treatment you give him whenever he tried to approach you to see if you were alright or if you needed help. 2) Not taking any responsibility for your toxic behavior towards him. 3) Pushing him to the point where he questions himself and his sanity because of how much you openly despise him. 4) Leading him to believe almost everything that goes wrong around you is his fault when it’s not. That’s gaslighting. 5) Using shame and his guilt to make him feel worse about himself regarding problems he already deeply regrets and works every day to make up for it. 6) Appearing indifferent when he’s clearly hurt/sad/upset. That’s called lack of empathy. And 7) ignoring him when he’s trying to express his feelings or trying to explain himself to you, but obviously because of all of the above you never gave him the fucking chance.” I get that her upbringing was rough but isn’t it hypocritical of you to pry at everyone’s hidden secrets when you have some of your own. We barely know anything about you other than the CCPD records and your meta abilities.

You had taken a few steps closer to her, seething and seeing red. Allegra struggled to retaliate, “I didn’t know-“

“No, you clearly didn’t because every time he tried to talk to you, you always shot him down harshly. Nash tried to give you time and space, always hoping that you would be ready and one day just listen to him. Do you not know how hard it is to wake up every morning to see the doppelganger of your dead child? Do you not understand how hard it is for him to relive the memory of her death over and over again? How much grief he’s carried in his heart and all of a sudden, by a stroke of chance his daughter’s doppelganger is part of Team Flash on this Earth?”

“…”

“You call yourself a journalist, but only when you don’t get what you want. You used that card so many times against Iris, especially when you snooped on her computer and found out about the crisis.” You took in a breath from your heated speech to calm down. Your headed started to pound even more Never in your life have you gotten this ballistic. You counted to 10 and regained control of your breathing and your tongue. Allegra was downright speechless, stunned in her spot at your ebullient words. “I’m not sorry for everything that I’ve said. You needed to hear it to wake up from that closed off and childish world you live in. Because whether you like it or not, he’s family too. And he’s here to stay, just like you. That’s the truth. You have trust issues, even when you’re with us. All of us. You doubt yourself and hesitate. That’s another truth. And you just use him as a punching bag to let out your frustration and pent-up annoyance on someone who only wants to protect you. Penance for not being able to protect his own daughter.”

“I didn’t ask for him to protect me. I’m not helpless.”

“We don’t ask for a lot of things in life to happen, but they do so anyway. Barry got struck by lightning. Frost and Caitlin watched their father die. We’ve lost so many precious souls. But life goes on. Is Iris helpless when Barry saves her? Is it true when vice versa happens? Frost distracts the baddie in time for Cisco to work his tech magic. Is he helpless? Is Ralph helpless when Sue took down those assassins even though she knew he was Elongated Man who is more than capable of handling a few bullets?”

“I- No?”

“Having another person around isn’t a sign of weakness, but strength. Surrounding yourself with people who love you, who you can call family isn’t an exhibition of helplessness. Allegra, you have a home now. A family that will always want the best for you whether you choose to trust us or not. And no matter what happens, Nash’s resolve is to ensure your safety even though he knows you are your own person. For his dead daughter’s sake. That’s how he believes he can redeem all that he’s done. Is that wrong?”

“But he manipulated me and then basically started the crisis.”

“Then I guess you don’t know the full story about that either,” you mocked her. Some reporter, huh. “First off, Nash told you about Team Flash before Team Flash told you about Team Flash. Why? I can only assume that he wanted you to know before you found out the hard way. Meaning if something where to happen to you unexpectedly like Blackhole targeting you because of your affiliation with Iris. He wanted you to already be aware of them and to know who to go to in case things got rough. Secondly, he gave you the push you needed to not fear your powers. To trust yourself. He foresaw that you’d need your powers and so would the others. So, where in all of that does Nash win and leave you for ruin like Eobard Thawne has done to the others? Was it wrong for Nash to indirectly help you in his own awkward bargain-y kind of way?”

Allegra ran a hand through her hair as you spoke, wanting desperately to prove you wrong that Nash was just using her. “It’s just… weird. I’m her doppelganger, I’m my own person. I’m not… her. I don’t even know her name.”

“Her name is Maya and if you asked Nash, he’d be more than willing to tell you about her, and you’d see for yourself that you and she are not the same.”

Allegra nodded at your words, looking as if she would contemplate it. You hoped anyway. The man didn’t need to be broken further. “How do you know all this?”

“It’s honestly pretty simple to push his buttons a bit before he spilled his pent-up feelings to me after we exorcised Eobard out of him. And I’m pretty sure Harry’s been giving him hell for Nash’s unsuccessful attempts with talking to you.

“Who’s he again?”

“An evil murderous speedster that has a thing for ruining Barry’s life and ensuring his existence in the timeline. Not the first time that’s happened, but the crisis allowed for us to do an exorcism was very… eye-opening.” You grinned mirthlessly to yourself causing her to smile a bit. You sighed and took a seat, gesturing for her to take it. Rubbing your eyes, you spoke up, “Nash isn’t the only one.”

“I don’t understand”

“4 years ago, Zoom was terrorizing Earth-1 and Earth-2. A speedster that could breach back and forth if all 52 breach-points weren’t sealed. It was terrifying to say the least. Barry, Cisco, Harry, and I breached over to Earth-2 with a 24-hour time limit in saving Jesse. She’s Harry’s daughter. His pride and joy, his one weakness but his true.”

“You sound like she’s yours too.”

In a way, she kinda would be if- “She’s a brilliant young soul who rivaled her father in intelligence and had a high-spirited personality. Later on, she was accidentally gifted with speedster abilities when Harry and the others tried to regain Barry’s speed. Abilities that Harry still dreads to this day because he’s an overprotective grouch. You’d like Jesse if you met her. Any who, I’m going off topic-” You laughed to yourself. “We had a strict time limit to find her before Zoom and his meta-minions expunged us off the multiverse. And Barry, he went undercover after kidnapping his nerdy doppelganger- “

“-so, Barry basically kidnapped himself- “

“-Yeah. A lot of weird shit goes on with us, but those are all stories for another time.” You waved the thought off before continuing. “So, he was undercover, and he met up with Joe and Iris’ doppelgangers on Earth-2’s Jitters. Barry couldn’t help himself when it came to protecting them when Earth-2 Killer Frost and her boyfriend crashed the little party in search for Barry and us. In the name of Zoom, they were sent out to kill of the breachers. Barry got involved when we were supposed to be incognito getting in and getting out. He sped E-2 Joe to the hospital and E-2 Iris away before she could shoot at E-2 Killer Frost. Even though, Harry told him that these doppelgangers were not his Iris and Joe, that he shouldn’t get involved with the people there. Barry saw the differences and, I kid you not, yelled at Harry that even if they were doppelgangers, they were still his Joe and Iris. He had a sense to protect them, just like Nash does for you.”

“That’s…”

 “It’s a lot, I know. We’ve all been through a lot in these past 6 years. Just… just think about it. Give Nash a chance to talk to you. To explain everything to you from his point of view. Because deep down, he knows you are your own person, but that you’re special just like Maya. Just as what Barry saw on Earth-2 with Joe and Iris’ doppelgangers. Lives worth risking for.”

You watched as Allegra took in a breath, really letting everything sink in before nodding at you. The gem that Nash had given her was still in her jacket pocket. It amplified her UV powers into mentally confusing the person in front of her. She fiddled with the tech in her hands. “I need to go give this to Cisco. He’s probably wondering if I drowned or not.” You nodded at her with an understanding smile as she retreated out the speed lab. Sighing harshly, you allowed the tension to leave your body as you reclined back in your seat. You shut your eyes. I hope I made the right decision to speak my mind to her.

“Didn’t think you thought that highly of me.” Your eyes fluttered open as you took a sharp intake of breath. Nash chuckled to himself at your dismay. His head felt incredibly murky as he blinked the dark spots away. He remained reclined as he rolled his head to the side, the feeling of his limbs returning to him as he urged his fingers to twitch and curl.

“Nash?! You were awake the entire time?!” Nash just smirked languidly at your embarrassed outburst, ignoring the slight throbbing sensation in his head. “Why didn’t you chime in?”

He watched you slowly sit up with worriment. Nash noted your continued exhaustion. “I was intrigued on what you had to say on my behalf.”

“Worried I’d tell her to UV your existence off the planet?”

“No, you wouldn’t do that.”

“And how do you know that? I can be pretty mean.”

And pretty bossy when you berate me for running into danger. But in either case, still pretty. “I understand. But then the question begs, why would you go to such great lengths to defend me?”

“I didn’t defend just you, Nash.”

“But almost the entirety of the conversation revolved around me and how I felt. My regrets and intentional self-punishment. You could have told her that you didn’t care and that she could continue to give me the cold shoulder… but you didn’t. Isn’t that right, little lady?” Nash coyly mocked you, causing you to roll your eyes at the Wells doppelganger. “Like you said, I’m a human being as well.”

“And a dumbass,” you muttered in a hushed voice to yourself as the taller man moved to stand up, he swayed not quite oriented yet. You were on your feet at once to steady him back into his seat. “Let’s do a couple of tests before you do any gallivanting across the city.” You checked over the monitors, noting that some vitals had dropped below normal which could be due to him waking up from the psyche-neural mental surgery.

“Do you want to take Barry’s blood?” You held up the syringe of speedster blood O-.

“Pass. I’m not a vampire.”

“I know you’re not a vampire, you idiot! This should speed up your body’s biochemical processes for you to retain homeostatic levels and for your mind to reorient itself to the psyche-neural splicing.” Nash stubbornly agreed to the blood administration. He rolled up his sleeve while you pulled out the necessary equipment to work your medical magic. You were just about finished when the geological myth-buster spoke up.

“Thank you… I owe you a favor.”

“Huh?”

“I said, thank you.”

“Sorry, just one more time. I don’t- I don’t think I… caught that correctly.”

“How does Harry even put up with you?”

“You can ask him yourself when he gets here,” you responded cheekily with a huge toothy grin on your face. You won’t lie and say that your heart didn’t jump that Harry would be coming soon. “Now what’s this about owing me a favor?”

Geez don’t smile like that at me. Nash pushed away those pesky thoughts. “I honestly really hoped you wouldn’t catch that, but,” He paused for a moment to collect his words as he sat up, now not taking for granted the silence within his own mind. “After you put the Psyche Segregator on me, I realized something. The favor you owed me, protecting Allegra, it’s… a favor without an expiration date.”

“So?”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I did not do the same.”

“I’m not following.”

“Gods! What I’m saying is, that I owe you a lifelong favor. But only one.”

He owes me a favor. A lifelong favor. A favor that’s lifelong. A favor that doesn’t expire. An expirationless favor. I get a lifelong favor. A dumbass owes me a favor. “…”

“What’s it going to be?”

“… I can’t think of anything right now.”

Nash only blinked at you. “Seriously, you can’t come up with something in that ditzy head of yours?”

“Hey, I take great offense to that!”

“Good, it’s the truth.”

You put away the medical equipment and disconnected the screens that held his vitals. While you were up, you gave him a water bottle and some food to help with the dizziness. Nash felt his strength return to him as the blood transfusion allowed his body to work faster in restoring itself. “You never told me; did it work? Are they…?” You trailed off pointing to your head as he stood up.

“No mo-”

Swouush, swooush

The crackling sounds of atoms and the fabric of this dimension cut you off. You turned around to see two breach-like holes open up in the middle of the speed lab, familiar and friendly faces exiting safely. They pocketed their newly synthesized dimensional extrapolators.

“Vhy don’t you take ein gut look, schatz?”

“Oui, we’d be more zhan ‘appy to answer zhat for Nash.”

You greeted them cheerily with a hand wave as they approached you and Nash. Wolfgang nodded at you before making a beeline to where the DCM remained. Sherloque tipped his hat to you before nodding at Nash.

“You guys made it safely.” :D

“Zhat we did, petit fluer. A few bumps on zhe way, but nozhing eizher of us could not ‘andle,” Sherloque piqued up,

“Then that means-,” You pulled out caramel vanilla flavored chap stick out of your pocket and applied it to your lips. Your heart waited in anticipation not even wanting to waste time to even fix your hair. Harry will be here soon. The boys just watched you carry on with a dumbstruck smile on your face as you stood in place and waited for a breach to open up. Wolfgang resumed working on recalibrating the DCM for the others.

“Did you just put on chap stick?” Nash asked with quirked eyebrows and an incredulous look.

“Well, yeah? When I see Harry, I’m going to wanna kiss him, duh.”

“You didn’t get enough from-”

“-Sherloque, don’t-”

“-when you were making out wizh ‘arry in Nash’s ‘ead?”

You shut your eyes and groaned, blood rushing up to your face as you covered it with your hands. “They did what?? Seriously, in my mindscape?” Nash’s flare-up caused Sherloque to snicker as he smirked at your bashfulness.

“Ja, zhey did zhat.” Wolfgang sighed, pulling up new schematics one the computer screen. He worked diligently with any piece of technology at his fingertips. “Alzhough, Sherloque vas zhe unfortunate one to valk in on zhem. Gott sei Dank bin ich es nicht.”

“Oui, zhey were getting very ‘ot and ‘eavy zhat it took Wolfgang and moi to interrupt zhem from what people on zhis Earth would say ‘rounding zhe bases like deux ‘ormonal teenagers.”

“Sherloque, stop! Please!”

Your cheeks were on fire and you know they could see the colored hues. Sherloque and Nash continued to tease you while you attempted to ignore their playful jabs. No Harry yet. It’s been… 15 minutes. Don’t panic. He’s ok. Probably held up or something at his Labs. He’s ok and he’s with Jesse. Just breathe. “I-I should probably run some small physiological diagnostics on you guys since you just crossed over and we don’t know if the dimensional travel will negatively impact you or not.”

“Great, she gets nervous and all of a sudden to distract herself, the little lady wants to run tests.” Nash facepalmed while Sherloque just gave you a look.

“Hey, I’m not nervous! How many times are you going to offend me today?”

“As many times as necessary.”

“Everyzhing zhat you’re doing right now are common gestures of being nervous. You keep playing wizh your fingers and biting on your bottom lip. You did zhat last year whenever we were discussing Cicada.” Sherloque added much to your chagrin.

You pouted with crossed arms. “I don’t do it often.”

“Yes, you do.” Both Nash and Sherloque responded simultaneously and you felt yourself shrink a bit under their combined blue gazes. Before you could say anything, Wolfgang let out low whistle. The three of you turned to him as he began to speak.

“Systems are all online und fully functional. Zhe ozhers should be sending us zheir dimensional coordinates und ve can commence vizh zhe cataloging soon.” The German man continued speaking as he finished typing up a few more algorithms on the computer. “I’ve already uploaded ein copy of zhe roster from my mind zhat vay ve could check zhe ozher Vells off Stück für Stück.

You nodded at Wolfgang’s words, but felt your stomach squeeze in your lower abdomen. “What about Harry?”

“Ve vill just have to vait until he shows up, schatz.” Wolfgang adjusted his glasses as he gave you a brief glance. You weren’t the only one to notice that since arriving on Earth-Prime that Wolfgang wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Do no vorry, Harry vill come.” Your shoulders sagged at the idea, an action Sherloque picked up on which prompted him to give his two cents.

Mh, une distraction semble être de mise. “(Y/N), Wolfgang ‘ere told me an interesting story about ‘is Earzh and a particular person ‘e ‘ad come across. Say, your doppelganger for instance.” The Frenchman took off his fedora to card his fingers through his dark locks whilst Wolfgang momentarily froze. Nash stretched fully before retreating out of the room, knowing he wouldn’t be needed and wouldn’t allow himself to be psychoanalyzed by the one and only Sherloque Wells. Sherloque smirked as Nash left and Wolfgang’s reaction. Il n’y a pas de mal à partager des histoires.

“Nein, halt- Ich-”

“-He told you or did you deduce it from him like you do to everyone else?” You questioned your friend slyly before turning your head back to the German Wells. “Wolfgang, you knew my doppelganger?”

“Ja, ve… ve used to be close in university.” His cheeks dusted pink as he fumbled about with the wiring of your Earth’s extrapolators. “She vas zhe one zhing zhat remained constant zhrough zhe years.”

“What happened to her? You’re talking as if-”

“She passed avay. Ja, she did. She vas terminally ill… Multiple Sclerozis.”

So that’s probably why he doesn’t like to look at me for too long. “I’m sorry. My brother- he died a few years ago from Multiple Sclerosis too. I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the family tree even across the multiverse, huh?”

“Ja.”

Ok (Y/N), way to make it super awkward. “I should- leave you to your sciencing. Sorry about that.”

Wolfgang just nodded his head in thanks before sending a glare to the detective while Sherloque advised the both of you to venture out to the breakroom for to make drinks. With a smug look on his face, obviously. Qu’est ce qui retarde ‘arry? The same thought echoed hauntingly in your mind as well. You allowed the French detective to pull you down the corridor for some coffee and tea, but your mind could not for the life of it let go of Harry.

***

You waited. Patiently, if I might add. It’s been 2 days since Wolfgang and Sherloque had popped over. Obviously you had gone home to shower and change before coming back with some snacks. The cataloging was running smoothly. Wells one by one projected themselves over via the DCM and recounted their dimensional coordinates as well as establishing the state of their Earth in this new dimension. But you grew uninterested in the different variations of your boyfriend. Each second ticked away at your heart. Like a fool you’d look up at the different sounds that would come from the center of the Speed Labs only to be met with disappointment. Sherloque eyed you as you waited around like a lost puppy for the Earth-2 man, even at points getting up and pacing. The detective saw the anxiety ooze from you at the fact that Harry hadn’t arrived yet, so he did his best to distract you from your worries and thoughts. But he was running out of stories of Earth-221, interesting cases, and discussion topics to tell.

Barry had sped in a couch for you and Sherloque to sit in as you waited for Harry to make an appearance. The detective calmly sipped at his new flavored tea, one that you had provided. Wild Raspberry Hibiscus. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, willing yourself to be alert. You had already consumed 4 cups of coffee with espresso yesterday, but those sleepless nights were slowly pushing against you. The two of you sat in silence with only the hums of working electricity and noises from the DCM.

“I zhink,” Wolfgang took a step back from the computer monitor, “I should retire for zhe nacht.” The German took off his glasses and rubbing his closed eyes. Es war eine mühsame Aufgabe, aber sie musste erledigt werden. “I’ve reprogrammed zhe system in order for it to catalog incoming Vells automatically.”

“I’ll keep my eye on it,” Sherloque piqued up, gesturing with his porcelain teacup to the DCM and subtly side glancing at you. Wolfgang only nodded at his doppelganger.

“Yeah, you should go rest. Sorry if it seemed like I was keeping you here,” you stood up and stretched, walking over to the German Wells.

“Nonsense, zhink of it as a favor to Harry,” Wolfgang waved off your statement. You offered your hand to the platinum-haired Wells which he shook gently before bidding your goodbyes to each other as he strode through the dimensional breach. Which reminds me. You scrunched your face and blinked a few times over then turned back to the seated detective.

“Sherloque, you don’t have to say here. You should go back home to Renee.”

“I- Comment puis-je lui dire? … Renee and I didn’t exactly work out. Encore.” You observed him as he set his teacup down, Sherloque chuckled sadly to himself. Je ne sais même pas pourquoi j’ai voulu recommencé ca va faire 8 fois.

“You deserve better. You really do, Sherloque. Love will find you.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Hey, head up,” You found yourself sitting beside the now cynical man as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting hug. “It could even literally run right into you one day when you least expect it. But it doesn’t mean you can run yourself ragged from sleep loss.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly and reciprocating the gesture of affection. You knew he had no problem with loving, it was the fact of having that love fully reciprocated without it becoming superficial.

“I cannot, I promised ‘arry I would not leave your side in zhe case zhat zhere would be some sort of delay on ‘is end.”

“He asked you to do that for me?”

“Oui”

“Do you think… something happened to him?”

“I wouldn’t worry. ‘e’s a capable and determined man, plus ‘e ‘as ‘is daughter wizh ‘im. Now come on, I believe zhe bozh of us deserve a change of scenery.”

“I’m feeling the need for Jitters coffee actually.”

You pulled said man off the couch and moved towards the direction of the door. Sherloque raised an eyebrow at you incredulously as he scrunched his nose in disgust at the prospect of coffee. “Coffee at zhis hour? Its 10 PM.”

“WHAT?”

“Well you’ve been on zhe Netflix entire time, peeping up every once and awhile to see if ‘arry come or not. I’m not surprised you lost track of time.”

“I guess I can drink some hot chocolate from the breakroom.”

“No need to get up,” Nash’s voice caused your head to snap up as he stepped into the Speed lab with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, “I figured you’ve had too much coffee in your clumsy existence within the past 12 hours.” In truth, Nash had made, dumped, and re-made hot chocolate 7 times in the past 2 hours because he had no idea on how you’d react when he’d make it. He had no idea why he impulsively decided to make one of your favorite drinks instead of letting you waste away at the prospect of coffee. The adventurer talked and scolded himself because you clearly don’t need him to help you out. You’re a capable, independent ditz after all with a war veteran of a boyfriend on the way. Although, Harry’s delay did ease the unsettling feeling in the pit of Nash’s stomach. Finally, the myth-buster had made a decision and added some peppermint extract to give it more flavor with some marshmallows. Fuck it, I’m going to do it anyway because… I secretly want to see her smile at me while it lasts. FuCk.

“I resent that statement, but I do thank you for the hot cocoa,” you hummed in contentment of the fresh brew. Nash saw the weight momentarily leave your shoulders and your body visibly relaxed. You saw him eye you oddly but chose to shake it off as you took another long sip. “Mm, I never got to ask, but have you met any vampires?”

“What?”

“Vampires. You said you weren’t one and I obviously know that, but I’m intrigued if you’ve encountered any on your travels through the multiverse. Cisco accidentally met one when he saved Breacher a year ago.”

“Do you always come up with bizarre questions to ask?” Nash poked your cheek as the three of you moved back to the couch. You batted his hand away. Sherloque baby blue eyes followed the banter between

“I don’t know if I should take it as a compliment or a criticism.”

“Take it as you will. I honestly don’t care.”

“Well?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows as you were seated in between Sherloque and Nash on the couch. You blinked a few times and shook your head a bit.

“Well, what?”

“Have you caused any trouble with any vampire?”

“Why is it that you think that I always cause trouble?” Nash countered your question with his own. He ignored the mockingly smug look on Sherloque’s face.

You shot Nash a look before retorting and Sherloque held in a laugh. “I’m not even going to answer that, Nash.” Nash stammered a bit before succumbing to that determined look on your face, the sparkles hidden in your eyes as they twinkled with curiosity.

“There was this one time-”

“-I knew it!-”

“-Would you let me finish before judging?” He lightly scolded you as you took another sip of your hot cocoa, your head started to throb against the hardness of your skull. “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted,” but you did not look in the least regretful, “this was before I met Maya. I had… overheard in a tavern on a dark Earth rumors of the Alexandrite Crown or better known in the dark legends as the Queen’s Crown. A crown thistled with alexandrite gems but infused with Thallium and Platinum. Poisonous according to the naturally occurring substances on that Earth.”

Nash continued painting the pictures to his adventure and his encounter with a Vampire Clan in a clash over the Alexandrite Crown and the mystical way of obtaining Chrysolite in order to cleanse it from the noxious spirit that’s locked away within. You hung onto each word as you pushed away the blurriness in your vision and the hazy state of your mind. With each second your head got heavier, feeling like lead and your eyes threatened to droop, but you needed this distraction from worrying about Harry’s wellbeing. Taking one deep breath, you shut your eyes as your body went out of commission. The geological adventurer breathed a sigh of relief, lowering his voice to a stop as your head gently lolled to the side, resting against Sherloque’s shoulder. Both men observed your breathing pattern relax to soft puffs of air.

“Sleeping powder, impressive and you even stalled until it took effect. Maybe zhere’s hope for you just yet,” Sherloque smugly spoke up as he readjusted you to rest your head onto his lap.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nash narrowed his blue irises at the detective.

“Non, nozhing. What else did you bring?”

“Huh? What-I didn’t-”

“I’m a detective Nash, I notice zhe most miniscule of things. Bring over zhe pillow and blanket you ‘ave ‘idden in zhe vacant room beside zhe corridor.”

“How did you…?”

“Skill, mon ami. Skill. Just because I’m not in your ‘ead does not mean zhat I cannot see zhrough your pure intentions.”

Nash sighed in defeat as he pulled up the blanket and pillow. He first covered you with a fluffy blanket, ensuring that he would not meet Sherloque’s eyes. “She gets cold when she falls asleep.”

“And zhe pillow?”

Nash handed his doppelganger the pillow, who placed it on his lap before setting your head on it to sleep comfortably. “You already know so I’m not going to even say anything.”

The detective quirked a teasing, but knowing eyebrow at the explorer, “Be honest wizh yourself, what prompted you to essentially drug her?”

“Okay, with the way you’re saying it, you’re sounding as if I’m going to do vile things to her. And you know what? I’m not going to even pretend to not be offended by that.”

“Well in reality you technically did drug her, but zhat’s beside zhe point.”

“She hasn’t been sleeping well. You know it. I know it. Hell, everyone on Team Flash noticed, but no one had the will to reprimand her to take a day to rest.”

“You mean ‘zhe ‘eart’ to.”

“Whatever!-”

“-Shh!-”

“-The little lady needed to sleep. She can’t be running herself ragged while making sure everyone around her stays safe and healthy.”

“Zhat’s very noble of you, Nash. C’est ironique, non? Elle ne peut pas être tienne mais tu ne peux pas t’empêcher de désirer quelque chose que tu ne peux pas avoir.” Ta logique t’a réprimandé pour avoir préféré profiter d’un instant avec tes amis. Tu vas devoir apprendre à t’en contenter.

“What did you just say?”

“Nozhing!” Sherloque just gave the other man a mysterious smile as he took off his fedora and tossed it onto a spare and vacant table on the side. “You know it’s nozhing to be ashamed of, right? Caring about ‘er and ‘er safety, zhat’s what zhis team does to a person. It doesn’t make you weak. You should know zhat by now.”

“…”

“You just need to know not to tip over zhe line.” Sherloque knew his doppelganger didn’t like being deduced, didn’t like his actions thoroughly analyzed to told what and how he was feeling. But sometimes, he needed a little push in the right direction by the detective in order to fully face the intentions behind his actions. That was one of Nash’s flaws. The ability to push aside all the pain and emotions behind current actions in a little box and thrown out the window in order to press on with the adventures that he lived on. Sherloque had discretely gone through some of his recent memories and noticed it occur with not just you and Allegra, but with the members of Team Flash as well.

“I know what I’m doing,”

“Zhen I believe you have some… patching up to do wizh a certain teenager.”

“She’s not a teenager, she’s a young adult.”

“All in zhe same wizh ‘ow she was acting.”

Nash left with a slight huff as he had every intention of turning in for the night, mentally contemplating a few things. Rubbing his eyes, the explorer took one glance back from where he stood in the corridor. He dismissed the skilled detective’s words, but yours had echoed in his mind. The detective reclined back on the couch, his own mind wandering in the depths of his own nightmares and regrets. He took one look at you before shaking his head. Sherloque smirked as his ears perked up to familiar sounds causing the detective to tilt his head back.

“Eh bien il était temps”

German and French Translation:

Deux - Two

Mh, une distraction semble être de mise - Hm, a distraction seems to be necessary right now

Il n’y a pas de mal à partager des histoires – There’s no harm in sharing some stories.

Qu’est ce qui retarde Harry? - What is taking Harry so long?

Comment puis-je lui dire? – How do I say this?

Encore – Again

Je ne sais même pas pourquoi j’ai voulu recommencé ca va faire 8 fois – I don’t know why I tried an 8th time.

C’est ironique, non? Elle ne peut pas être tienne mais tu ne peux pas t’empêcher de désirer quelque chose que tu ne peux pas avoir – It is ironic, no? Even though she cannot be yours your heart can’t help but to secretly desire something dangerous

Ta logique t’a réprimandé pour avoir préféré profiter d’un instant avec tes amis. Tu vas devoir apprendre à t’en contenter. – Your logical mind scolded you to relish with your friendship instead. Something you will have to learn to become content with.

Eh bien il était temps - Well it’s about time.

Mon Ami – My friend

Stück für Stück – Bit by bit

Es war eine mühsame Aufgabe, aber sie musste erledigt warden - It was a tedious task, but it needed to be done

Gott sei Dank bin ich es nicht – Thank God I didn’t

Schatz – sweetheart

Petit Fleur – Little Flower

[zombriekid]

The Devil Takes Care of His Own 2/?? [Alastor/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hazbin Hotel

Chapter Name: Miscommunication 

Chapter Summary: miscommunication runs amok at the hasbin hotel and you’re at the center of it all 

The Has-been Hotel is... you honestly don’t know what you were expecting when Niffty described the place but it sure as hell wasn’t... all of this.

It’s grandiose in both concept and execution, a towering beast of red brick and daunting spires and white marquees lights that draw the gaze up, up, up all seven plus stories until you’re gawking at the luminous, colossal eye nestled at the tippy top of the building; an amalgamation of various parts, such as the rusty boiler of an old locomotive on the left side and the splintering ruins of a ship smashed into the right, it’s as if the architecture had whipped up a variety of blueprints, couldn’t decide on which one to use, then hurled them at the wall to see what stuck. Each individual structure stacks on one another at such awkward angles, not enough to topple over but sufficient to deceive your brain into thinking that it will.

The sort of anxiety that you get when a cup sits dangerously close to the edge of a table.

Niffty skips from one foot over to the other in an energetic, repetitious fashion until they both carry her closer to the grand double-door style entrance, and with a flourish of her skirt she twirls around until she’s gracing you with a toothy grin. “This is it, Newbie!” The declaration is made, and you feel the skin around your mouth pull into a smile of your own before you can even think about it. Her joy is infectious. 

“Cool!” You respond, “umm... I’m gonna kinda stick around until you can get inside, is that okay?”

Her grin quickly drops and her brow pinches, though neither are done out of disgust or anger or any sort of negative reaction. If anything she merely looks confused. Then she asks her favorite question: “why?”

“Cause- I dunno, what if it’s locked?”

“But.. it’s a hotel. Why would it be locked?”

“I don’t- friggin know! Look, I just.. have to make sure you get inside safely! For my peace of mind.”

Something clicks in her head, you can tell by the way her face slackens, the way her eye widens a fraction, and how her already open expression just... opens up more. What this all means you can’t say for sure but you’re hoping that it stems from the epiphany of self preservation and survival instincts, or rather her lack thereof. You can’t afford to worry about her well-being after this. Got an un-life to live and all that.

A smile, tiny in size but genuine in nature, blooms on her face, and warm, fuzzy relief swells in your chest at the sigh; seems the little lady finally gets it.

“You should come inside and meet everybody, Newbie.”

...

Or not-

That’s-

You-

That’s not- the response that-

“W-why?”

The giggle she emits is light and airy, girlish- not quite like a child’s or even a teenager’s yet akin to. Like she knows something that you don’t. “I think you’ll like them, hell you might even become friends!”

“I don’t need- I have friends-” the rest of the statement disconnects from your voice due to the emotional and mental whiplash you’re currently suffering. Because this is not the direction you were anticipating. The direction you were hoping. A moment of clarity to break apart the cloud of teenage hormones- to bridge the gap between childhood and adulthood in her head so that her sense of self preservation might serve her better in the future! That’s all you’re wanting.

Accountability from her. Not an assessment on how pathetic she finds your existence.

But then her smile slips into something a little more somber and the wind in your sails- that is the ire in your throat- immediately deflates. “Please?” She asks.

Hear that? Those are your heartstrings being tuned and plucked and strummed by a diabolical mastermind forever trapped in the body of a teenage girl. Under your breath do you curse the softness in your chest as your feet begin pursuing her prints.

____________________________________

There’s something off about the hotel’s entrance, and you’re already aware of what that something is for it lacks any semblance of subtlety and tact. 

The walls don’t match.

That is to say there’s quite a large patch that coils around the doors from one side of the moulding to the other, with the jump between textures and slightly off-coloring of the material a harsh sensation. “Repairs from an intruder” Niffty tells you; “a big ass red flag” is what you’d call it.

The youngen grasps one of the dusky doorknobs and you have just enough time to note the twin stained glass panels on either door before she shoulders one of them open- oh fuck, these doors are so much bigger than her!

That’s too goddamn endearing.

Crossing the entrance’s threshold and into the foyer doesn’t leave you with any flesh wounds or broken bones, which is a normal expectation otherwise, yet still that doesn’t embolden even an iota of morale. Just makes the oxygen in your lungs slip through pursed lips.

The interior’s lovely, though.

It has a particular aesthetic to it, a sort of old timey feel inspired by early 1900s Hollywood- gold trimming glistens in the low light around the wall’s seams, a wombo combo of creepy eyes and apple silhouette patterns smatters across the wallpaper and windows and furniture, and varying yet complimentary shades of red- some orange based, others with purple undertones- as far as your eyes can see. Chipped marble statues stand tall along the length of the rich, ruby red rug, and both design choices run down the walkway between your feet and the front desk. Safe to say the rest of the establishment follows this decorative draft.

It’s all very gaudy- not something you would’ve chosen.

Niffty announces her arrival with the verbal enthusiastic accompaniment of a “new friend”, which makes the skin on your face heat up, makes you feel coy, however, then her declaration is only met with the ripples of her voice bouncing from wall to burgundy wall, and the silence (emptiness) becomes baffling.

And a quick glance around the space the two of you occupy yields no other results, it’s just the two of you.

Empty.

Obviously there’s electricity in the building, you can easily point out the amber light sources and random puffs of cool air from the air conditioning, so it’s nearly safe to say that this hotel is functioning. At least somewhat.

Don’t most, if not all, functioning hotels have... tenants? People checking in? Employees, managers, a friggin cock roach?! Life?

Why keep the lights on if no one else is here? No one else except... you and Niffty. Why would she bring you here? Knowingly, of all things, given how she spoke of this place with such familiarity. Unless...

No.

Your eyes find her red, curly locks- she wouldn’t- and the hairs on your arms rise with the pebbling texture on your skin- she wouldn’t- and, oh, how the comprehension of age old adages such as “stranger danger” and “curiosity killed the cat” spreads in your chest.

You had no reason to trust her four hours ago, and you have no reason to trust her now.

Seems like her self preservation isn’t the only one that needs fine tuning around here.

Slowly, quietly, you lift your leg and just as discreetly lower it back down behind you, and you mirror this silent shuffle on your right, back and forth, until the tips of your fingers caress a cool, grainy surface. The doors.

Feel for the doorknob- “huh, is no one here?” she mumbles- a metallic globe nestles into the meat of your palm- “that’s weird”- your fingers fold around the bulb- “I was hoping that- what’re you doing, Newbie?”- the knob turns, not by you. It’s not you. You’re not twisting the door open.

The doorknob is moving and it’s not because of you.

A sensation of lofty weightlessness replaces the solid slab against your back, a flurry of butterflies erupts in the pit of your stomach, and the visual of Niffty standing amidst dim lighting slips into the recesses of your peripheral as you fall backwards with the retreating door. However, a pair of hands immediately clench around your biceps and from that point of contact you can physically feel their arms expend force to halt your body’s natural inclination to follow the pull of gravity.

“Whoa there!” Someone says from behind- the owner of the hands and your personal savior, you’re assuming. And judging by the higher, decidedly more effeminate pitch of the voice, your pillar of support is a young lady.

Brief peek up through your lashes confirms all suspicions and you’re, like, ninety five percent sure you’ve fallen in love.

A young gal, somewhere in her early twenties, is staring back at you with her groomed brows creasing the impossibly pale skin of her forehead. But it’s the way she’s looking at you, the manner of which you’re able to meet her lovely doe eyes, is what leaves you weak in the knees.

She’s hunched over you. Spine bowed, shoulders raised, neck craned, spun gold tresses spilled around her face kind of hunched because she’s taller than  you by a significant amount.

You’re ready to go ahead and propose.

“Umm, hi there,” the (hopefully) future Mrs. Newbie says through a lopsided grin, “are you okay?”

This next moment of stupidity will hound your psyche later on tonight until the only thing that lulls you to sleep is the sheer exhaustion of socially awkward-induced anxiety, however in the meantime there’s no stopping the response that jettisons out of your mouth. “I need to call heaven because they’re missing an angel.”

“... what?”

“I mean my legs must be broken cause I’ve fallen for you.”

____________________________________

Over a glass of water, serviced by an individual whom you can only describe as a winged grump cat- and was, supposedly, here the entire time you were questioning a child’s integrity- is where you apologize to the blonde hotel owner, Charlie; she attempts to wave it off with a flick of her wrist but this doesn’t suffice, not for you at least.

“No no, I’m really sorry- it’s just...” at a momentary loss for words, your index fingernail lightly scrapes into the grainy pattern of the bar. “I’m fairly new here so a lot of things are still pretty jarring.”

“Guess that explains the meat suit, then.”

This astute observation comes from her companion, a long-legged fellow by the name of Angel Dust who’s currently scrutinizing you with his sharp, mix-matched eyes; at a whopping seven foot something this guy looms over everyone in the room with all four arms laced over the tuft of white fur billowing out of the plunging collar of his suit. Bug-based, you think, like an arachnid maybe but with six limbs instead of eight.

“-arachnids are not insects because-”

Nope, none of that, not gonna have an episode spice up your (less than) stellar first impression.

“Yep, been here for about a month now. I’d like to think I’ve adjusted well enough but, ya know, still get thrown through a loop sometimes. Like this hotel for instance! Never would’ve thought that friggin Hell would have one, no offense.”

On a bar stool to your left pipes up Niffty; “is that why you thought I was gonna attack you, Newbie?”

Naturally you’re utterly unprepared for her rather perceptive question, cause she can determine your, a total stranger’s, apprehension but not an aggressor’s intentions when their teeth are poised around her noggin?

Well, no sense in denying it now, you suppose.

“Sorry about that, Niffty.”

“Oh no worries!” She giggles, “it’d be pre-etty stupid to blindly trust someone like that.”

A few beats pass with the two of you staring at one another, her donning a toothy smile and you puckered lips, and shortly after you disrupt the unofficial contest with a single nod of your head and a “fair enough” tacked on to the finale.

Turning back to Charlie, you tell her that the offensive essence of your statement about her hotel didn’t really make itself known until just now, and apologize for your insensitivity once more. “I guess I just didn’t think anything like this was plausible, but here I am drinking complimentary tap water in a lobby of a hotel in Hell.”

“’Complimentary’, my ass.” The winged cat, Husk as you were told earlier, grumbles under- his? that voice definitely sounds masculine- breath.

“Okay, just tap water then. I’m drinking tap water in-”

“I-it’s okay, Newbie!” Charlie interjects, palms raised and fingers slack. “You’re not the first one to doubt the Happy Hotel, though I do appreciate your apology.”

... want some of that non complimentary tap water to wash down that foot, self? Jesus, if you didn’t feel like shit before then boy howdy do you feel it now; way to trash her gig like that.

“But I believe in this project, no matter what anyone else says, and if I can help just one demon find redemption here then everyone else will believe too!”

FUCK, you really just shat all over this literal-but-not-really angel’s dreams! God you’re such-

Wait.

Wait wait wait... rewind that, what did she say?

“Redemption,” you stress the word, “whaddya mean by that?”

Her mouth blinks open repeatedly not unlike that of a fish before she quickly clears her throat and continues. “Umm.. rehabilitation? To fight against the overpopulation issue?” She must see the lack of recognition on your face. “The entire reason for this hotel?”

Unfortunately for her nothing is distinguishable, not one bit of information or even hearsay within your recollection to mend the rift of miscommunication here, and you explain as such.

“Isn’t that... why you’re... here? To be rehabilitated?” She asks.

You shake your head, “I was just escorting Niffty home so she’d get back safely. This is the first I’ve even heard of your project.”

“Yep yep! Newbie here saved me from some guy that was trying to kidnap me, said he wanted to use me as bait against the bossman, can you believe that?” Niffty scoffs, chased by a large, arcing roll of her one eye. “Completely clueless. But thanks to our new friend here I didn’t have to do anything!”

Angel Dust, apparently with a desire to be a part of the conversation once more, emerges into your line of sight from your right and levels you with a somewhat twisted sneer; lots of fangs, this one, hopefully he’s not a biter.

“So... what? You lookin’ for reward money or somethin’?” He jeers, and it takes some exertion of personal willpower to not clench your hands out of irritation.

Doesn’t mean it’s not showing on your face, however.

“No dude, just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

“Tch, ya think we’re really fallin for that crock of shit?”

“I don’t care what you think?” Your tone is calm, steady, no need to act like a jackass even in the afterlife- a concept that has obviously eluded this guy’s notice. “That was my reason for helping, ‘s not my problem if you don’t believe me.”

In your peripheral you can see Charlie’s silhouette veer a little to her right/your left; it’s a slight tilt in her neck that seems to tip her center of gravity, drawing her blonde hair over her right shoulder in a curtain of pale gold, however it’s her eyes that capture your absolute, full attention. Round and unblinking, they probe into you with such vigilance that your stomach churns from the intense concentration, except it’s done in a way that brings a sort of glossy haze over her round, pretty face- like she’s looking at you but she’s not seeing you.

Normally you’d be flattered by such an attractive person outright staring at you, openly, but uhh... right now? Yeah, no you’re not, you’re actually feeling pretty anxious right now.

Guess Angel Dust is tuning in on the same wavelength as you because he says her name in the form of a question. And, still with a far away vog clouding over her features, she merely discloses “I need to call Vaggie” then treads towards the building’s entrance.

“... what?” Is all you can get out in this disorientation.

“Vaggie is Charlie’s girlfriend,” Niffy whispers behind a cupped hand.

Which doesn’t actually answer much of anything for you, nevertheless you appreciate her effort and thank her for it.

Then your left pocket comes alive with rhythmic tremors, a clear indication that your phone is receiving some sort of outward correspondence. Ah, a text message from... oh no.

Text from: The Boss

“WHAT. THE FUCK. DID YOU DO, NEWBIE?”

“Oh fuck me.”

____________________________________

a/u: no beta, we post (and die) like men... until i actually go back and review it. y’all this chapter was gonna end much further down the line but it’s already long enough, and though i’m not inherently happy with the outcome i am proud of myself for getting it out by my self imposed deadline! btw the reader’s assertion of the characters’s gender identities is there only cause these are characters we know so it makes it easier on me; if any of them didn’t follow a binary based identity then i wouldn’t identify them based off of their biological sex. like, reblog, comment, and all that great jazz cause engagement means everything to content creators, and thank all y’all for taking the time to read my jargon <3

tagged: itz-kira (i gotchu boo)

[give-me-writing-or-give-me-a-nap]

Clawing at Own Throat: Bad Things Happen Bingo

A/N: Some might say I’m a little too excited for the Bad Things Happen Bingo (I wrote this last night in the span of twenty minutes, and only didn’t post it then to give me some time to edit), but I like to claim it’s just enthusiasm for whump and not some deep-rooted sadistic desire. :P

Warnings: Strangulation, PTSD, Nightmares

Fandom: NCIS

Tim couldn't escape it. No matter how hard he tried, the darkness was always around the corner, one step behind him, ten feet ahead of him. He'd forgotten how long he'd been running in this labyrinth, shoes forgotten in the hallways ages ago. The surface under his feet rocked, constantly, and he knew he was stuck on a ship, no, the ship, the ship back in Paraguay that he could have sworn he had escaped from four days ago.

Out of nowhere, one of the goons who had taken particular pleasure in playing rough with Gibbs sprang from the darkened shadows, pinning Tim to the wall. Tim lashed out, tried to get away, but his limbs were moving in molasses. The man put a hand around Tim's neck and began to squeeze.

As Tim thrashed about, trying to suck precious oxygen into his lungs, his hands came up to his throat to tear and claw at the man who was slowly killing him. The man only squeezed harder the more Tim tried to escape, and Tim clawed harder and harder, getting purchase on his own neck but not the hands of the man holding him. The darkness he had been running from was beginning to envelop them both, and Tim wanted to cry out, to scream, to let the man know, "You idiot, we're both going to die if you hold me here!" but no words would come, just a choking noise.

Spots danced in Tim's vision and he clawed all the more desperately for freedom, until some invisible force yanked his hands away from his neck. Tim could almost make out a voice that sounds vaguely like Delilah's, yelling something unintelligible at him, the only words he could make out being "Wake up!"

And in an instant, he forced his eyes open and his body upright into a sitting position, and as he looked around, he was in his own bed, in his rented apartment, with his very concerned wife sitting next to him, holding both his arms in a vice. His throat was killing him, and when Delilah saw that he was awake, and she let go of his hands, he tentatively put one up to his neck. It came back red with blood.

"You started thrashing in bed, Tim, and when I turned on the light you were scratching your neck bad enough to draw blood. What in the world were you dreaming about?" Delilah asked.

Tim swallowed, looked down and away and winced as he brought his hands up to his neck again to try and massage the area. "Nothing important, it's over now," he lied. He didn't want her to worry over him of all people. "Go back to sleep, I'll just wash my neck and be back in bed before you know it."

Delilah looked skeptical but turned out the bedroom light and rolled over in bed. Tim stumbled into the ensuite, closed the door, and flicked the light on. He flinched at the suddenness with which it came, like one of his captors slamming the door open to the cell he and Gibbs shared, just to throw in a couple beans or drag them out to torture them both. Internally, he kicked himself and scoffed. It was just a stupid nightmare, he wasn't in Paraguay anymore, he shouldn't be focusing on it every waking moment. He should be enjoying his life, just letting himself live happily.

As he turned up his neck to get a better view, he winced. Droplets of red blood were appearing all up and down on the skin, and bright pink marks dragged down from his chin practically to his collarbone. He had been scratching hard in his sleep. Too hard, it would seem.

He took a washcloth and covered it in warm water, dabbing up the blood and using the water to soothe the stinging sensation. He was terrified of what might happen if he could even fall asleep again after that, if he got stuck in another nightmare and Delilah tried to unsuccessfully stop him. What if he hurt her? What if he hurt the baby? There were too many possibilities and none of them were good.

Walking back into the bedroom, he considered going to the bed but ultimately decided against it, moving to the living room. He paced a bit, to remind himself that he was in an open room, not a cell, and he could move wherever he wanted. Then he grabbed a book randomly off the shelf, turned on a low light and began to read. He wasn't sure what it was about, but it read like one of his textbooks from college, which was never a good sign when it came to entertainment. He wasn't looking for entertainment, however, so he decided to just continue on, as it beat sitting in bed all night, trapped in his head with only his thoughts to keep him company.

Morning came all too soon, and Tim didn't get another wink of sleep. He moved to the kitchen as he heard Delilah stir, so that he could claim to have been making breakfast instead of just staying up the whole night. He doubted Delilah would believe him, but he wanted to at least pretend to save face instead of admitting that he was too scared to sleep in his own bed.

To his vague surprise, Delilah didn't ask him about his sleep after the nightmare. She didn't talk to him much at all, actually, which...yeah, he kinda deserved that. When the doorbell rang he stood and said, "I'll get it," before Delilah had to move.

He opened the door to find Gibbs on the other side, clean-shaven. "Hey, physical's today," he said. "Figured I could give you a ride. What happened to your neck?"

With a wince, Tim shrugged. "Scratched it in my sleep, apparently. I'm fine. Want to come in? It'll only take me a minute to change."

It took everything Tim had in him to not break Gibbs' hand when Gibbs grabbed his wrist after he turned around. "Hey, it's okay to have problems sleeping after what you went through, understand? A nightmare or two doesn't mean you won't pass your psych eval."

Tim gave Gibbs a smile that he didn't really mean and said, "I'll be right out."

As he went into the bedroom to change, he could hear Gibbs and Delilah outside, talking, and he sighed. He just knew he was going to be their next "fix-it project" whether they intended to do it or not. He looked around when he was dressed and snagged a scarf from the closet. He wrapped it around his neck before going out to see Gibbs and Delilah again. After all, the entire world didn't need to know he'd scratched his neck raw in his sleep. No one needed to know that if he got any say in the matter.

[drarry-sb]

Omegling

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like harry potter rp, harry potter slash rp, and drarry rp.

You: hi there!!!!

Stranger: Hi

You: fancy a rp?

Stranger: Sure

You: Yay! Preference to who you play?

Stranger: I prefer Draco but I am perfectly fine with either if that's alright.

You: That's perfectly fine with me. Would you like a before war, after war, auror, prostitution, creature, or slavery prompt?

Stranger: Before the war, after the war or slavery sounds good

You: Okay. Give me a moment.

You: For slavery, master or slave?

Stranger: Slave

You: okay. hang on

You: Here are several: #1 Harry stood in the back of the crowd. He really did not want to be there, but as the Savior and the Ministry’s Golden Boy, it was expected of him. Where was there? There was a Death Eater auction. To raise money, the Ministry had decided to auction off the lesser Death Eaters as slaves to pay for the reconstruction of the Wizarding World. Harry thought it to be horrific and inhumane, but his opinion did not mean much when it went against the Ministry’s. He watched the scared faces as the men and women were auctioned off. He was just thankful that he did not know any of them. Oh, spoke to soon, because he definitely recognized that head of pale blond hair, even if it was dirty beyond belief. #2 Draco pried open his eyes when he heard footsteps approaching. When he looked and recognized the messy hair and green eyes, he cowered back, his body trembling. He bit his lip. “C-came to finish the job?” he asked through the pain. He glanced down at his beaten, bruised, and bloody body. He smiled weakly, feeling the dry tear tracks on his face. “Sorry, most of the work is done. You can do the honors, though.” He closed his eyes, blocking out the man he’d known for nine years. [Either during or after the war. In both cases, the war lasted longer than in the books and the boys are in their early twenties. For during war, it was either the Light or fellow Death Eaters who attacked Draco. For after war, Draco was attacked by an anti-Death Eater group of people, i.e. mob.] #3 Harry paced the floor with his wand arm cradled to his chest: to the wall with the cot, to the wall with the small window at the top, and back again. He did not know how long he had been there, since the band of Neo-Death Eaters had caught him. It felt like forever, each day the same as the previous. Harry shook his head. He did not understand how it could have gone so wrong; the mission had been straightforward, simple enough that a trainee could have done it. And it was, until the Neo-Death Eaters crashed their bust of a small illegal potions ring. Harry was worried about the rest of the group, whether they were alright, hurt, or captured. Specifically, a certain pale blond prat by the name of Draco Malfoy. Harry sighed, sitting back down the cot, for there was nothing he could do if they had gotten Draco, not matter how much he fretted. A knock on the door had Harry on high alert. It appeared his captors were paying him a visit. #4 Harry sat on one of the boulders around the lake, throwing smaller rocks into the water. He really did not want to come back for this ‘eighth’ year. But, since he decided not to take the Ministry up on their offer to start training right after the war, he needed his NEWTs to pursuit something else. He was so lost in thought that he did not realize he was not alone. He jumped, nearly falling into the water when a voice called out. It asked who was there and sounded rather nervous. “It’s me,” he answered, though that did not really answer the voice’s question. [The voice is Draco, swimming in the water] #5 Draco stood in the back of the crowd, watching as the Dark Lord gave out slaves as rewards. Person after person was given away, most of the faces familiar to him. He really, really did not want to be there, but it was required. Then, Potter was shoved onto the stage. His pulse quickened, and he hoped. It was a long shot, but maybe, he would be given the raven haired man. At the least, to protect the man from the horrors of the other Death Eaters.

Stranger: (I like #1.) As Draco was lead onto the stage, he kept his eyes down, focusing on the bonds holding his wrists together. He was attempting to keep himself grounded in the moment, to not go insane with the thought that he was being auctioned off as a slave. It was a shock to his psyche. To go from such a place of power, to being a lowly servant. It made his stomach twist and he drew in a deep breath, counting to ten in his head.

You: It physically hurt Harry to see Draco cowed as much. The blond had always been so proud, so sure, and now he was resolutely staring down, avoiding all eye contact. Harry had to do something. To his horror, he watched as the bidding opened, and people began to bid. Merlin, every few seconds another paddle was raised into the air, the price rising steadily. And the look on some of the people's faces. Harry shuddered. It was like the blond was a pretty new toy to play with. To use. To break. No, Harry needed to do something, something drastic, and fast. He stood up, raising his paddle. "50,000 Galleons," he called out, which was over five times the current going price. Silence rained as everyone turned to stare at him, but Harry stood his ground. He squared his shouldered and glared at the auctioneer, daring the wizard to question him.

Stranger: Draco felt sick to his stomach as he heard the bidding begin, even more so when he heard so many voices eager to pay so much for him. Of course... He was the perfect pedigree... Raised in high class society. What better way to degrade him by making him into a slave. Draco shut his eyes tightly, wishing he were with his parents. His mother had already been auctioned off and his father... Well Lucius was in Azkaban already. The blonde tensed when he heard a familiar voice call out an obscenely large bid and he swallowed hard. No... No not Potter. The Gryffindor had every right to torment him after all he'd said and done while they were in school.

You: The auctioneer cleared his throat, looking out over the rest of the crowd. "50,000 going once?" He called. Silence. "50,000 going twice?" Silence again. "Sold, to Harry Potter for 50,000 Galleons." Harry could have cheered, but he reigned in that reaction. Instead, he smirked, and began to walk towards the front of the room to claim his 'bid'. /All part of the act/ he told himself, trying to keep up the smug aura. He internally winced as the guard holding Draco's bonds kicked the blond in the back of the knees to get him to move towards the stairs of the stage. Harry wanted to call out, to shout for the man not to hurt Draco, but he couldn't. He had to play the part of the Ministry's Golden Boy, at least until he got himself and Draco out of there and to Grimmauld.

Stranger: Draco wanted to vomit when he heard that he was sold.... /sold/ to Harry Potter. 'Just kill me now...' He thought to himself, though he knew death would be far too good for him. When the guard kicked him toward the stairs, he groaned inwardly, his body sore. He walked over to the edge of the stage, keeping his eyes focused on the ground, refusing to look at Harry as he approached him.

You: Harry could not hold back his sneer as he was handed the lead attached to Draco's bonds. Hopefully, people thought the sneer was directed at the blond, and not the guard, like it actually was. He turned to look at the auctioneer. "I'll be taking my prize home now," he said, clear and authoritative, "Settle my bill with the goblins." He offered the man his account information. Not to any of his inherited vaults, but to the one his auror pay check went into: his trust fun vault, which still have more than that in it, but nut as much as the Black or Potter family vaults. Harry turned to the blond, tugging a little on the lead. "Let's go," he said, loud enough for the gathered crowd to hear, "I don't have all day."

Stranger: Draco tugged against his restraints as they were handed over to Harry but he continued to look down at the ground. 'Why him...' He thought to himself as he felt the lead being tugged. So badly he wanted to lash out at Potter. But he knew better in the moment. In a room full of people who would love to see him tortured or dead... Attacking their precious Golden Boy would not be the best idea. Instead, Draco simply followed Harry wordlessly.

You: Once they had left the building, Harry grabbed Draco's arm and apparated them straight into the living room of Grimmauld Place. "Sorry about that," he said, "I just needed to get you out of there before you did something stupid." He pointed his wand at the blond's restraints, vanishing them wordlessly. Then, he put his wand away in its holster. "There, that's better," he said, turning towards the door. He hoped that showing his back to the blond meant he trusted the man. Or at least, that was what he hoped the blond would get from his actions.

Stranger: Draco stumbled slightly as they apparated to Grimmauld Place, weak from his treatment in captivity. He tensed up when the wand was aimed at him and he was confused when the restraints were taken away. 'What's going on...' He thought to himself as he rubbed his wrists where the bonds had been, the skin red there. When Harry turned his back, it confused the blonde even more. Why do that? Draco could easily attack him... "Potter..." He said slowly, his voice hoarse from hours of screaming from torture by the ministry. All stuff he was sure they would keep under wraps. Play the heroes. Pretend that they treated their prisoners well. "What's going on..."

You: Harry looked over his shoulder, leaning against the door frame. "Well, I was going to go make you some chicken noodle soup," he answered with a smile, "I know you haven't eaten in a while, so I was going to make something simple. That shouldn't upset your stomach." He hummed, tilting his head to the side. "There's also some bread Kreature made yesterday, if you want some to go with it." His eyes zeroed in on the sores on the man's wrists. "Right, there's a bathroom on the next floor, on the left. It has some ointment that should help with those." He did not say that that bathroom was where he cleaned himself up from Auror missions, so it was actually equipped with a full med-kit. He turned back around. "The soup will take about an hour. That's enough time to shower, if you want. Under the sink, there's towels, and some spare clothes in the cabinet above the toilet."

Stranger: Draco blinked slowly, completely and utterly confused. Why was Potter being kind to him? Making him something to eat.... Offering him a shower and clean clothes.... Draco decided not to question it for now. He simply nodded and turned, walking down the hallway to the bathroom. He started the shower to get the water warm before he began stripping off his clothes, placing them in the corner of the room. He got into the shower and winced as the warm water rushed over the cuts and bruises on his skin. 'Damn ministry...' He thought to himself as he began to wash up. When he was satisfied with being clean, he got out of the shower and toweled off before applying the ointment to his wrists. In the cabinet he found spare clothes and put them on. They were only slightly big as Harry was a bit taller than him. Once dressed, he picked up his clothes and walked back to the kitchen.

You: Harry had music playing. He had managed to bewitch the old phonograph to play a muggle music radio station. He was dancing along, singing under his breath as he chopped carrots and celery. The chicken was boiling in the pot already. He was in his own little world. Harry still wasn't sure how he got Kreature to loosen his reign over the townhouse enough to let Harry cook, but somehow he did. It was probably that Harry made Kreature head elf, having the other elves at the other properties answer to the elderly elf. He did not notice the blond come into the ktichen.

You: *kitchen

Stranger: Draco walked into the kitchen, his hair still wet. He leaned in the doorway, watching Harry with an amused smile on his face. So that's what it looked like to just let go... To be in your own world. Without caring about anything else. He watched for a few moments before clearing his throat to grab the Gryffindors attention. The smell in the kitchen was already beginning to intoxicate him and his stomach growled. "Need any help?" He asked, though it hurt to speak.

You: Harry jumped, the knife slipping. "Shit," he cursed as blood welled up from the cut on his finger. He unconscious stuck it into his mouth and turned to face the blond. "If you want," he said, muffled by his finger, "I'd put a kettle on for tea. Kreature has this blend of herbs to go in tea that works wonders for sore throats. That should help soothe yours, I think."

Stranger: Draco's eyes widened as he watched Harry cut his finger. "Don't just suck on it. If it's bad enough to bleed then it's bad enough to get infected." He said, taking Harry's other hand and leading him back to the bathroom where he opened the med kit. He quickly cleaned the cut and bandaged it up. Most people were unaware of the fact that before he'd gotten roped into the war, Draco had been studying to become a healer. "There."

You: Harry grinned. "Thanks, Draco," he said, "You're my hero." Harry had vaguely remembered rumors that the Death Eaters managed to recruit a Healer trainee, but he had never realized that the trainee was Draco. This would be perfect. His plan was going to work out smoothly, as soon as he got the blond to France.

Stranger: Draco rolled his eyes and would have playfully told the Gryffindor to shut up if his throat didn't hurt so badly. He simply nodded and stood up, walking with him back into the kitchen where he filled the kettle with water before putting it on the stove. He was more than happy to help Harry, even though he was still hopelessly confused about what was happening.

You: Harry turned down the music so it was now just background noise. He picked up the knife again, and set to work. "So, explanations," he began, glancing at the blond, "You're probably really confused about, well, everything."

Stranger: Draco leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest and he nodded. "Yes. Very confused." He said, grateful that the taller man was going to indulge him in some explanations.

You: "Well, to begin will, I don't agree with anything the Ministry is doing," Harry said, "Especially what happened to you and your mother." He shook his head. "I'm just a figurehead." He bit his lip. "I ... eh ... I could hear the screams." He swallowed thickly, putting down the knife. "I tried to stop them, to fight them on that." He pulled his shirt to the side, showing a puckered scar that went from his collarbone, up over his shoulder, and down around the shoulder blade. "The head Auror, Robards, gave me this, so I would remember my place."

Stranger: Draco's eyes widened as Harry revealed the scar to him. So... The ministry wouldn't even listen to their precious Golden Boy who had saved them all from the merciful ruling of Voldemort. Damn. Draco felt heat rise to his cheeks and he looked down at his arms as he realized that the screams Harry had heard were most likely his. After all... He'd been the one who had fought back the hardest out of all the death eaters. Trying to save his mother more so than himself. "I'm... I'm sorry..." He said softly.

You: Harry chuckled, putting his shirt back. "So not your fault," he said, "Also, they wouldn't tell me who would be at each auction. It was luck I stumbled across you." He rubbed his neck. "Um, your mother ..."

Stranger: Draco looked up, a bit hopeful. "My mother... Do... Do you know where she is? Who... Bought her?" Draco asked. It made him sick to even think about it. But he needed to know.

You: Harry nodded, a faint smile on his face. "Yes, Seamus bought her," he said, "She's safe. He bought her for the same reasons I bought you: to protect you. They're in one of old Black properties. And then, he'll move her to the one in Greece." He shrugged shyly. "I thought she'd like the weather and a chance to relax." He rubbed his neck again, a nervous habit. "I was planning on getting you to France. They have the best Potion program at their university. Well, now that I realized you were the Death Eater's healer, their Healer program would be better suited for you."

Stranger: Relief flooded through Draco instantly when he heard that his mother was safe and would be moved to an even safer location soon. Good. "My mother adores Greece." He said softly with a smile, doing his best to hold back the tears that threatened to come to his eyes. "France?" He questioned with a soft chuckle. "You plan on getting me to France? Wouldn't you get into some serious trouble?"

You: Harry grinned mischievously. "Only if they caught me," he answered, holding his hands before his chest in a mock image of prayer, "But since I've been a model Golden Boy since the incident, they have no reason to suspect me. And since this is my inherited property, it falls under goblin law, not Ministry. And the goblins don't care about wars or international borders." He hummed. "That reminds me. You'll probably have access to the Malfoy vaults once in France."

Stranger: Draco raised his eyebrows. That would be helpful. Since he was the heir, once he was in France, he would be able to access everything. "Why... Why would you do this for me?" Draco asked softly, looking down. "I was so terrible to you and your friends in school... I don't deserve the help your giving me..."

You: Harry scoffed. "Draco, that was just a schoolyard rivalry," he said, "And I was just as awful." He scooped up the chopped carrots and celery and dumped them into the pot. "War has a way of changing people

You: 's perspectives."

Stranger: Draco nodded slowly, knowing all to well how easily war could change someone's perspectives. He was certainly not the same person who had gone into the war. Not the same person who had become a death eater at his fathers command, knowing that refusal meant death. "I appreciate it..."

You: He looked at Draco. "The Ministry has the wrong changed perspective." He pointed the laddle at the blond. "Did you know they repealed the law allowing gay wizards and witches to marry, hell, to even be together? They want to make sure the magical population grows, and apparently same sex couples don't encourage that. Like fertility potions don't exist that allow male/male and female/female couples to conceive." He turned back to the soup. "That's why Dean and Seamus joined me."

Stranger: Draco frowned. "That's insane." He said, shaking his head. What in the world was happening to the ministry. "Why would they do that? It's common knowledge that same sex couples are perfectly capable of having children thanks to magic." He said, his voice quiet as he spoke, trying to keep it from hurting too much.

You: Harry shrugged. "Some Anglicans somehow got sway in the Ministry," he said, "Muggles are still rather against same sex couples, because of their religion." He didn't say that one of them was Hermione, with her hidden homophobic ways. She had shown her true colors when Harry had told her he was bisexual. She'd nearly fainted in horror, demanding he go 'pray away the gay'. That had ended his friendship with both her and Ron, since Ron was too lovestruck to argue with her.

Stranger: Draco sighed and shook his head. "This won't last long... The wizarding community is going to give some serious backlash against it I'm sure." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. At least he hoped so. Not many people knew that Draco was gay. His mother knew. Blaise Zabini knew. And Pansy knew. He was sure his father knew, but the elder Malfoy had never brought it up and Draco was fine with that.

You: Harry chuckled bitterly. "Well, a certain know-it-all has sunk her roots deep into the Ministry, and is spreading her hateful views around," he said, "And it's not just gay and lesbian people that are targeted. Anyone not straight is labeled a 'threat' to the next generation." He rubbed his neck. "Oh, Dean got Blaise out. They're in Italy, at the Zabini family manor. Apparently, Blaise is driving Dean up a wall, but he can't leave until Seamus is out of Britain. Then they'll be heading to a Potter property in Denmark." He scrunched up his nose. "Of all the properties, I don't get why they chose the farm in Denmark."

Stranger: Draco was relieved to hear that his closest friend had made it out well and he chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I'm sure Dean is getting on Blaise's nerves just as much." He said, knowing Zabini and his patience all too well. "So then... Did you inherit much of the Black's estates?" He asked curiously, pushing off the wall as the kettle began to boil. "My Aunt Bellatrix had been first in line for the inheritance. Followed by my mother. Then by me." He said, preparing them both a cup of tea. "But i'm sure that Sirius was able to get ahold of some properties. And since my mother and I are both well.., imprisoned..."

You: Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Actually, I got it all," he answered, "It seemed, while lovely Walburga burned Sirius off the family tree, it seemed Orion did have some backbone after all. He did not disown Sirius like his wonderful wife thought. So, the title of Lord Black fell to Sirius when Orion died, like Lord Malfoy will fall to you when Lucius dies in Azkaban." He cringed. "I'm sorry about that, but the man was awful." He shook his head. "Back to the point, when Sirius escaped Azkaban and sneaked passed the Aurors into Gringotts, the goblins alerted him to his inheritance, and Sirius then made a will, naming me his heir." Harry rubbed his neck. "Again, I'm sorry. When we get to France, I can have the title transferred to you, but I can't give you back the properties. They're being used as safe houses for my friends. And yours too. Luna got Pansy out." He scrunched up his nose. "I really wish I could erase what I saw when I made the mistake of floo-calling them."

Stranger: Draco's eyes widened as he drank his tea slowly, listening to Harry speak. "My my. And he never thought to let anyone know about that." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't want the title. I was never interested in the Black's inheritance. I have more than I need from the Malfoy inheritance. I'm glad the properties are being put to good use. There are some Malfoy properties we could use as well." He nodded, and frowned. Yes... His father would die in Azkaban. "He may not have been the best man... But he was a good father... He put his family above all else... The only reason he pushed me to take the mark was because the only other option was death." He said softly, shaking his head. "Didn't show it much to the outside world... But he was devoted to my mother and I..."

You: Harry nodded. "There were hints of that. Faint hints, but hints nonetheless," he said, "I'm sorry that he's imprisoned, because he's your father, not because I feel sorry for him." He turned back to the soup, stirring it. "So, anything else you want to know?"

Stranger: "I don't expect you to feel sorry for him." Draco said with a shrug. Lucius was a terrible man. And Draco understood that. He was ruthless. Draco took another drink of his tea and thought for a moment. "Where will I be sleeping while I'm here?" He asked.

You: Harry shrugged. "Pick a bedroom," he said, "There's plenty. And they've all been cleaned of doxys and the like." He shook his head, moving around the kitchen. He opened up a cabinet to get them two bowls. "This house was the headquarters of the Order during the war, and Molly went on a cleaning spree. Made us all help." He shook his head. He missed Molly, but the woman had sided with Ron and Hermione, kicking Harry the metaphorical curb. "Don't worry. I changed the wards. No one but those I can trust can get in."

You: He hummed. "Which at the moment is Luna, Dean, Seamus, Fleur, Bill, and Charlie."

Stranger: Draco bit his lip and he nodded. "Alright. I'll find a room." He said as he watched Harry move about the kitchen, gathering bowls for the soup. It smelled amazing. "Thanks." He said softly, his throat beginning to feel a bit better from the tea.

You: Harry nodded. "You're welcome," he said, "If you want to go lay down, I can send the food up on a tray." He pointed to one leaning against the wall by the fireplace. "Kreature charmed them with the niftiest stasis charm. Anything placed on the tray will stay exactly how it was when placed on it. So you can eat as much as you can, and it will still be good when you feel like eating again later."

Stranger: Draco smiled faintly. "It's alright. I'm fine eating here." He said softly. The chains he'd been in when kept in the ministry didn't permit him much room and he had found himself eating his "meals" lying down on the cold stone floor on more than one occasion. The opportunity to sit at a table and eat was too good to pass up.

You: Harry shrugged. "Whatever you want," he said, "Just keep the trays in mind for later." He dished up the soup, placing one of the bowls in front of the blond. He went and grabbed the bread, placing it between them on its cutting board. He grinned. "Hoepfully, we can get through a meal without being disrupted."

Stranger: Draco nodded and smiled as the soup was placed down in front of him. He cut a piece of bread and took a bite of it, swallowing it before he spoke. "So... Why did you decide you want to help us get out of this situation? You could have it easy. Just let us all die."

You: Harry rubbed his neck, chewed on his bite of bread. "Hero-complex," he said after he swallowed, "And an infallible moral compass. I couldn't just leave you all there. You were just doing what you had to in order to survive. You all didn't have a choice."

Stranger: Draco nodded slowly as he began to eat the soup. "It's true... It's hard to refuse becoming a death eater when one or both of your parents are one. Especially in a pureblood family... Disobedience is not an option really." He sighed, shaking his head.

You: Harry nodded. "Yeah, old Voldy was a mad one. Killing off your followers is not a good practice," he said, letting the conversation lapsed into silence as they ate. Just a few moments later, the floo flashed green, alerting him that someone wanted to come through. "And here comes an interruption," he said, standing up, "Want to place a bet on which crazy woman in my life it will be?" He stood next to the fireplace, waiting on Draco's answer before opening the floo.

Stranger: Draco tensed up as he saw the green flash from the corner of his eye, his mind instantly believing it to be the killing curse. He quickly calmed down when he realized it was just the floo. "My guess would be Granger." He said with a slight shrug, turning to watch Harry.

You: Harry pulled a disgusted face. "No, she's been barred from the wards since she told me to 'pray the gay away', even though I'm not gay. Bisexuality is different." He shook his head as the floo flashed again. "Great, now they're made at me for taking too long. Time to face the music." He tapped the mantel with his wand, and the floo opened. "How dare you, Potter," Pansy nearly screeched as she stepped out of the floo, "Making me wait. I just wanted to see if you'd changed your mind." She wiggled her eyebrows. Harry fake-gagged. "No way in hell will I be in a threesome with you and Luna. You are both so beautiful, but I think of you like sisters. Which would make a threesome /incest/." He pinched the bridge of his nose, waving towards the table. "I have a present for you."

Stranger: Draco frowned as he heard that Hermione and Harry were no longer friends. He was curious about Harry being bisexual however. When Pansy came through the floo, Draco grinned and stood up. He was a bit taken aback by the offer of a threesome and he chuckled from Harry's response. "Pansy." He said happily and walked over to her, embracing her in a hug. "I'm glad you're safe."

You: Harry jumped when someone leaning into his side. "I'm so glad you found him," Luna said dreamily, "Now you can finally tell him how you feel." He smiled softly as he watched the pair of Slytherins embaced, and he absently nodded to what Luna said. Then he registered what she said. "What, no," he sputtered, "I don't have feeling for him. That's crazy." Luna just hummed knowingly.

Stranger: Draco smiled as Pansy returned the embrace and he sighed softly. Good... Both his friends were safe. "And it's nice to know you've gone and got yourself a girlfriend without telling me about her." Draco said with a mock pout. "Remember dear. We talk about /everything/" He said in a dramatic tone, repeating words she'd told him over a year ago, before he smirked at her.

You: Pansy laughed. "Of course, darling," she answered, "Once you're in France. And we're coming with you!" Harry blinked. That was a surprise. He didn't know that that was where Pansy wanted to go. And, he glanced down at Luna, it seemed she would follow the raven-haired Slytherin. Interesting. He looked back up and smiled softly. Well, he would follow his own Slytherin wherever the man wanted. After he quit his job, of course. And made sure all of their affected friends were out of the United Kingdom.

Stranger: "You're coming with me? Brilliant" Draco said with a smile. A genuine, happy smile. "That's incredible. Harry was telling me that the university there has an amazing potions program and a healer program so I can pursue my studies there too." He told her. His eyes widened slightly as he realized he'd used Potters first name on its own.

You: Pansy smirked at him. "The Golden Boy has a way of growing on you, doesn't he?" She looked back at Harry and winked. Harry just shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his neck again. "Stop that," Luna said, pulling his hand away from his neck, "That'll irritate the scar. You're lucky I managed to get it to even heal over."

Stranger: Draco felt his cheeks heat up slightly and he shook his head. "Shut up" He chuckled, his voice still raspy, though the tea was working wonders at restoring it. Draco rubbed at the back of his own neck, a small smile playing on his lips.

You: Harry blushed as Luna scolded him. "Okay, I'll stop," he said. She just raised her eyebrow at him. He had said that before. "It's not my fault it itches," he said defensively. He turned to Pansy. "There's soup on the stove, if you two want some." He motioned towards it. "I have to go feed Buckbeak," he said, bending over to open the mini-icebox he kept the hunks of meat in for the hippogryph.

Stranger: Draco watched Harry for a moment as he remembered Buckbeak and he shuddered a bit at the memory of it. Both from the memory of the Hippogriff attacking him, and at his obnoxious behavior that had caused it to happen and his dramatic cries afterwards. He sighed and shook his head, going back into the kitchen to continue eating.

You: Harry climbed up to the attic, not at all guilty at leaving Draco at the mercy of Luna and Pansy. It was the blond's turn to deal with them. He bowed as he entered, then tossed the meat at Buckbeak. "Good boy," he cooed. When Buckbeak laid down, Harry picked up his notebook and leaned against a feathered side. He then became immersed in the fictional world he had created, spinning tales of glory and loss. The girls knew of his habits.

Stranger: Draco was perfectly fine being left with the girls. He enjoyed conversations with Pansy and Luna? Well Luna seemed to just mold into whatever conversation was happening at the time and Draco was fine with that. He'd never disliked the girl, though he'd never encountered her much.

You: The Floo buzzed again. Luna stood up and opened it. A long haired redhead stepped out, and then offered his hand to a beautiful blonde. A beautiful blonde with a very noticeable baby bump.

Stranger: Draco didn't pay attention to the floo, too enthralled in his conversation with Pansy to focus on anything else. Hearing about everything leading up to their imprisonment and then everything after.

You: "W'ere is 'arry?" the blonde asked, sitting down heavily in a chair. The redhead, her husband, went and fixed her a bowl of soup. "Up with Buckbeak," Luna answered, "He's probably writing."

Stranger: Draco turned his head as they entered the kitchen, looking at the two before he turned back to Pansy, continuing their chat, noting in his head that Harry wrote.

You: Bill nodded. "I'll go up there," he said, "The bird likes me." Fleur scrunched up her nose. It wasn't her fault the Hippogriff reacted badly to her Veela blood. After he left up the stairs, she turned to face the two Slytherins. "You must be Draco," she said.

Stranger: Draco nodded and extended his hand across the table to her. "It's Fleur right?" He asked with a small smile. "I remember you from the tri wizard tournament at Hogwarts."

You: She nodded, shaking his hand. "Yes, that's w'ere I met 'arry," she said, "And my 'usband, Bill."

Stranger: "Bill Weasley?" Draco asked and looked off in the direction the taller man had gone in. He'd heard a lot about the eldest Weasley brother but he'd never actually met the man in person. "Congrats on the marriage." He smiled.

You: She grinned. "T'ank you," she answered, then frowned, "But your Ministry was not 'appy about it. Firstly, I'm a foreigner. And secondly, I'm part-'creature'.

You: 'ow darn they! My fat'er is very important in the French Ministry."

Stranger: "Our Ministry is a joke." Draco said with a sigh, shaking his head. "They haven't been making very good decisions lately." He frowned. "I'm sorry if they gave you any trouble over it."

You: She shrugged. "T'ey don't know I'm 'ere," she said, "Or t'at I'm pregnant. Bill asked to be transferred back to Egypt, so we are moving t

You: 'ere. We've been staying with my parents."

Stranger: Draco frowned. This was getting out of hand... It didn't sit well with him that they had to hide the fact that she was here and pregnant. "Hopefully they transfer him soon. It seems like a lot of us are leaving as well."

You: She nodded, rubbing the side of her stomach. "Yes, it is just about done," she said, "We'll be t

You: 'ere w'en she comes."

Stranger: "Congratulations on a baby girl." Draco said with a grin as he looked over at her. "I'm sure your both eager to get out of the United Kingdom."

You: She nodded again, then slapped her hand on the table. "Yes, but enough of t'at talk," she said with a grin, "So, you are Draco? T'e Draco 'arry

You: 'as been lamented about for weeks?"

Stranger: Draco felt himself blush deeply and he rubbed the back of his neck with a small smile as he heard that Harry had been lamenting over him. "Yes. I'm Draco." He said.

You: She grinned. "You are very 'andsome," she said, "Just like 'arry said." Luna frowned. "I don't think Harry would want you tell Draco that. He wants to tell Draco of his feelings in his own time."

Stranger: Draco raised his eyebrows and he looked between the two women. Harry had said he was handsome? And... had feelings toward him. It only made the blush on his cheeks grow deeper.

You: Pansy cackled. "You are so cute when you blush," she said, reaching out to pinch one of Draco's bright red cheeks.

Stranger: "Shut it" Draco chuckled and swatted at her hand, shaking his head. "I'm not blushing." He said defiantly, trying to will the blush to leave his cheeks.

You: Fleur grinned. "Yes you are," she said, then turned to Luna, "If I don't give 'im a push, 'arry will never act on

You: 'is feelings. You know 'ow

You: 'e gets."

You: [I need to go to bed, because it's late and I have work in the morning. Continue over email?]

Stranger: (Sounds good. What's your email?)

You: [ ]

Stranger: (Just sent it.)

You: [Got it!!!]

You: [Good night!!]

You have disconnected.

[officialnaturalnatures-blog]

The Futility of Violence

In a world where the average human is either plagued by being within a world of constant violence and war or is constantly being bombarded with the imminence of being forcibly dragged into such a state, I think it is time we discuss why all this fighting is entirely pointless.

I have a feeling that I am not alone in this realization. Most of the humans I have had the opportunity to speak with see that conflict rarely produces any positive outcome, and even if there is some positive outcome to be noted, the greater result is negative. So why then do we seem to live in a society that craves war, fighting, and conflict? For you warmongers and proponents of violent resistance, the following discussion is going to appear to be insulting, but it is not meant to be. In fact, I am grateful to your mindset, because it was essential to our early evolution, but now I’d like to reason that it might be time for a change. Through a tracing of logical conclusions, perhaps you will be able to see and understand the need for a new kind of evolution. Of course, when feeling battered, you will want to point out the holes and real-world cases where my logic would fail. Feel free to leave these observations and complications as comments below, and I would be happy to engage in civilized logical debate with you.

Now, back to the question, why does our society seem to crave war, fighting, and conflict? The answer is quite simple, the need to protect and uplift oneself through violence is an early evolutionary trait of the human psyche. It comes down to the reasoning of “fight or flight” present in every species that my mind can currently think of. This will lead some to think that violence is legitimized, but read that again, it is an early form of evolutionary thought. It is derived from a simple way of thinking that predisposes one to the belief that the life currently being lived is the beginning and ending of all existence. Further and higher thought begins to reject this possibility.

The world and universe exists on a timescale that makes the mortal human existence nearly insignificant. To think that existence can therefore be measured through the frail reality of a mortal life is a faulty conclusion and is based in faulty anthropocentric thought. Higher thought begins to recognize greater patterns: “my lifespan is insignificant compared to the span of human existence; human existence is insignificant compared to the existence of mammalian creatures; the mammalian existence is insignificant in comparison to the existence of reptilian creatures; on and on goes life until the existence of organic life pales in consideration to the existence of the physical universe.” This line of higher thought continues, eventually leading to the assertion that consciousness is beyond physical and exists in a place “out of time.” Life is simply an embodiment of consciousness in a physical and time structured existence. Death can only be the release of consciousness from these bounds. Therefore, death is not an issue to be concerned about.

As one can see, higher thought brings one to realize that there is no need to emphasize the prolonging of the physical existence. If there is no reason to prolong the physical existence, there is never a need to fight or kill in order to prolong this existence. Those unevolved thoughts that say there is a need to kill come from the acceptance of the idea that physical existence is the be all and end all of one’s universe. (It is strange that those who put the highest value on their own life are those quickest to discard other lives.) Remove that obstacle of thought, and there is no longer any way to legitimize violence as a form of protection.

Religion in its higher form is an effort to teach people this principle of the futility of preservation of the physical self, so that peace may be realized. Unfortunately, there is a lower form of religion that introduces an argument of higher thought to legitimize violence to a more conscious being. You see, this lower form of religion brings in the idea that there is only a single truth, and that this truth must be defended even unto death, or through murder and violence. This form of violence sees that the length of a human life is rather insignificant, but that ideas can long outlive a single mortal life. If someone feels as if the truth he/she holds is universal and immutable, then that truth must outlive the individual so all others can have access to it, even if it means enforcing it through violence and murder.

This strategy for creating violence is used with political and financial ideologies as well. We see this with the immense number of “holy wars” the U.S. has been involved in since the end of World War II—wars to end any government that did not fit the “ideal democracy” that the U.S. created (which is faulty in even calling the U.S. a democracy since we live in a republic, not a democracy). This desire to instill ideology will probably be what leads to World War III unless the current world leaders can learn to evolve their own intellectual understandings. For the higher truth--the one that can realize peace and live kindly with a whole world of different organisms--will not and cannot fight. This is a direct interference with the higher philosophy. For this reason, the evolution of man moves very slowly, for those who are evolved will speak, but they will not fight, leading to their own deaths and the progression of a lower mindset.

Many may stand up and say, “Well, if you reach such a level of intellectual evolution, shouldn’t it be your duty to fight to live and spread that evolution?” No, because evolution must happen naturally, and to commit the act against which one is preaching is to be a hypocrite and to have one’s entire message fold in upon itself. This is a truth that has led me to craft an aphorism: “There is truth worth dying for, but never truth worth killing for.”

All of what has preceded is theoretical discussion, but now let us see how this philosophy could change things in the world we see today. First and foremost is the issue of terrorism. There are many (especially in the U.S.) that feel terrorism is something that must be met with violence. This is clearly a false conclusion, as can be seen by the growth of terrorist groups rather than the diminishing of them since the beginning of the “War on Terror” in 2001. This is because violence engenders violence. If a cause feels that it must be violent in order to get attention, it will be violent to get attention. If that violence is solely bemoaned and pitied and in all other ways ignored, then there is very little feeling of justice among the members of that group to continue with violence, for clearly the violence did not produce results. However, if a violent act is met with greater violence and militarism, then people outside of the cause will begin to pity and associate with the struggles of the cause, swelling the ranks of people supporting it.

We also face issues with gang and drug violence. The drug violence is caused by a government being unwilling to control and distribute certain substances based on perceived ideas of truth, and making laws that run in this same order. (Government can then exacerbate the problem by providing drug rings with the drugs for street markets, thereby increasing the size of the industry and violence associated with it as was the case with the CIA and cocaine in the 80’s.) When trapping any living thing and pushing it into a corner one can expect to receive violence in return, this is because of those basic “fight or flight” instincts. Take away the choice of flight and the only remaining choice is to fight. Many street drugs addle the brain and reduce it to basic instincts as well, so it would make sense to try and ban them, but if they are existent within a person’s system addiction kicks in, which pushes one to violent measures to obtain the drug. The answer becomes finding a way to provide and regulate it, take the customers from illegal street gangs that use violence to compete and put the source in hands that know how to operate in a more evolved manner.

Another issue within the violent gang lifestyle is that when subjected to violence an individual is likely to revert back to early evolutionary thinking. The way the world currently deals with these communities caught in a loop of violence is to send in armed cops that are themselves fallible and capable of returning to violence when met with violence. Give them armaments and send them into a violent situation and they are—more likely than not—just going to become part of the problem rather than a solution to it. Send in a bunch of friendly, unarmed people talking about peace and love and there may be some violent reaction, some people may die, but with an elevated form of consciousness life is already impermanent, but the change provoked by seeing violence met by nothing but peace and tears is transformative to most living creatures. The point being that violence cannot and will not diminish violence, and so a violent solution cannot even be placed on the table.

From the most macro to now the smallest microcosm, psychotic breaks in individuals (often induced by unmonitored and unregulated drug use) can lead to sudden bursts of violence. An event like this can lead people to react in anger, demanding the revoking of guns or the purchasing of more guns. Does this anger do anything aside from spread the psychosis of violence into a greater expanse of people? It makes sense to mourn and to wonder. In fact, if the wondering is followed by an investigation into the background of the individual to see what may have caused the psychotic break, then the wondering could lead to finding ways to prevent such psychotic breaks in the future. But for psychosis to be met with thoughts of anger and lashing out with violent words or acts at those who believe differently than the self will make it impossible for evolution or progression to be achieved.

We are at an age where, per capita, there is less violence than there has ever been, despite the pervasiveness of violent language between unevolved leaders. It was only a couple hundred years ago when most people had some experience in a gun or sword duel, now there exist those who may have never even been punched before. At this incredible juncture, are we going to support the growth of violence by supporting unevolved thinkers who currently have power and their desires to start war, or are we instead going to demand greater levels of peace than we are currently experiencing?

It is still a personal choice. There can only be information given from those that promote peace, there can be no militaristic, fascistic, or unkind way of promoting peace, only the proposal of the idea and the hope for its acceptance. You now should have all the tools necessary to realize that the promotion of war is to be unevolved in thought. The choice should be easy: evolution and peace, or devolution and violence.

 P.S. There are many jumps in reasoning in this blog post, mainly because a few of the interim assumptions would take a book long discourse to prove in a conclusive manner. Also, I am going to start the troubling of my own proposition: one of the most difficult instances to choose peace and Love over violence would be the perpetration of violence against a person that you loved, especially when that person is still left alive to deal with the consequences wrought on the physical form. In these moments I think I would snap. It goes back to that creation and allowance of a culture of violence that would allow the act to happen in the first place.