#youre telling me i can die over and over and i just come back??

[checkeredflagggs]

The Story of Us: Chapter 2

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 2 of 4/5, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky.

a/n4: Also timelines? Never heard of them. This is set in 2024 but I’ve moved Miami to before Australia

a/n5: happy birthday Logan! The charles post is next but I wanted to get this out for Logan’s birthday!

a/n6: justice for debut and speak now

y/n_gossip

liked by user, user, user, and 12,383,483 others

y/n_gossip: breaking! Coming from unknown sources are apparently leaked photos from y/n’s private phone.

My questions are how was she hacked and who is the guy!

view all comments

user1: what a gross invasion of privacy!

↳user2: seriously! Celebrities are just people too and they don’t need people nosing into their business

↳user1: well said!

user3: mother? has? a? boyfriend?????

↳user4: what! who! when! how! WHAT???

↳user5: this is not what i expected to see when i woke up…

↳user3: right??? Its like looking both ways crossing the streets and getting shit on by a bird…

↳user4: …what???

user6: please do NOT tell me that crazy person is right?? I don’t think I could take it if they were right and it’s Logan Sargeant

↳user53: I think you might have to get used to idea that they were right

↳user19: ok that’s like really rude but I’m gonna ignore it because you’re agreeing with me

↳user7: ok but NO WHERE does it imply that this guy is Logan

↳user8: also where is it said that these photos are of y/n?? She’s been spending a lot of time with yoursister and yourbff

↳user7: more of a long shot but still possible!

↳user19: I’m gonna hold it over your heads for the rest of forever

↳user53: alright let’s roll it back now. Maybe wait to gloat until you’ve actually been proven correct?

↳user19:…fine

Private Messages, Logan and Y/N

f1gossip

liked by not_logan, not_oscar, user, user and 583,902 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, pierregasly, alex_albon, landonorris, georgerussell63

f1gossip: within minutes of the leak of y/n’s photos, several drivers had posted a collection of photos to their stories. Looking closely at them, the range of photos could be taken to mean that they were the guy in the photos with y/n (who people are speculating is her unrevealed boyfriend)

view all comments

user9: ummmm…this is not it guys 😂

user10: I didn’t think silly season was going to include drivers strongly implying they’re cheating on their girlfriends

↳user11: oh my god I didn’t even think of that

↳user12: just wait — give it a few days and the wags will be posting similar photos 😂😂

user13: the desperation radiating from these pics is incredible

↳user14: so is the second hand embarrassment

↳user15: so true. I’m cringing for them jesus

not_oscar: what??

↳not_logan: no

↳not_oscar: what the fuck is this

↳not_oscar: ew

↳not_lilyz: 🤣🤣

↳not_lilyz: ok but i need answers

↳not_oscar: oh ill get some answers alright

user16: ok but tagging them???

↳user17: so bold. I don’t think I could live after it

↳user18: it’s not even about me and I want to crawl under a rock and die

↳user17: big mood

Private Messages, The Grid (Unserious)

Private Messages, Logan and Y/N

williamsracing

liked by user, not_y/n, oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 2,234,123 others

tagged: alex_albon, logansargeant

williamsracing: watch as our drivers take on the Duracell RC Challenge and answer fan questions! Full episode out now

view all comments

user20: this is so cute!

↳user21: I know! It’s always so fun to see Logan and Alex clearly enjoy themselves

↳user22: it’s so good to see them smiling!

user23: ok but those questions???

↳user24: forget all the questions — I want to tattoo Logan’s look of mischief when he said cardio was his favorite form of workout

↳user23: oh my god I thought was just me who saw that!

↳user19: well if my girlfriend was y/n, cardio would also be my favorite workout

↳user53: I’m judging you

↳user19: but are you disagreeing with me?

↳user53:…no

↳user19: ha!

↳user23: …are you…flirting…on my comment thread????

↳user19: WHAT? NO. ABSOLUTELY NKT

↳user53: hahaha I don’t now what yours talking about

logansargeant: best media day so far!

↳alex_albon: I don’t know how you did it but I’m sure you were cheating

↳logansargeant: haha 😆 you can’t prove anything!

not_oscar: so we’re being freaks on main now?

↳not_logan: and what of it?

↳not_y/n: yeah don’t kink shame us oscie

↳not_oscar: oh i'm definitely doing more than that

↳not_lilyz: oh like you haven’t done anything freaky too

↳not_logan: ha!

↳not_y/n: thank you lily

↳not_oscar: really love?

↳not_lilyz: 🤭🤭

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri, pierregasly, and 15,273,273 others

tagged: y/n, y/n_nation

f1: …Ready For It? Y/N has arrived ahead of the Miami GP where she will be singing the national anthem to kickstart the day!

view all comments

user25: classy!

↳user26: she always is!

y/n: it’s an honor to have been asked! And the warm welcome from everyone and their teams have really made the day something special! 🩵

↳logansargeant: oh everyone has been very excited to have you in the paddock!

↳oscarpiastri: very excited indeed

↳charles_leclerc: Bienvenue au Grand Prix ! Vous êtes en effet un spectacle très apprécié à voir! “Welcome to the Grand Prix! You are indeed a very very welcome sight to see!”

↳pierregasly: C'est toujours un honneur d'avoir une jolie jolie fille qui vous attend! “It’s always an honor to have a pretty pretty girl waiting for you!”

↳user27:…I thought the desperation was over…

user28: god what a whore…useless too. Made it too hard to get tickets. Too many silly stupid little girls who don’t know anything about the sport got all the tickets just to see her

↳alex_albon: wow I didn’t know mouths could spew such shit

↳maxverstappen1: I wouldn’t worry about not being able to get a ticket 👍🏻 you’ve been banned!

↳landonorris: not only by the individual teams but by the sport as a whole

↳f1: well said drivers! user28 that is not the attitude that we support here in f1! We welcome (nearly) everyone to the Grand Prix’s whether they’re here to watch the race or to watch y/n!

↳user29:…shut down!

user30: my favorite part of today so far has been how stupid the drivers turned when y/n got close to them!

↳user31: there was absolutely no thoughts in the heads of the Ferrari men

↳user32: (or their girlfriends let’s be real)

user33: I wish someone had gotten close enough to the alpine garage…

↳user34: god I know! The Kelsey brothers were there and based on their faces whatever Pierre was saying was probably outrageous af

↳user35: well he’s publicly called himself a tripod so we know he has no shame

user36: Oscar’s look of disgust whenever Lando and Alex opened their mouths tho…

↳user37: oh he was going through it today

↳user19: Love how logan was just laughing in the background though

↳user53: well if you’re right, they’ve been together for years so he’s probably pretty secure in their relationship…

↳user19: if?!??

↳user53: THERES STILL NO PROOF

williamsracing

liked by not_y/n, georgerussell63, alex_albon, oscarpiastri, and 1,334,274 others

tagged: logansargeant

williamsracing: Logan podium! I repeat!!! LOGAN PODIUM

view all comments

user38: I never thought I’d see the day

↳user39: well damn that’s kinda really rude

↳user38: be so for real right now did you ever think Williams would podium? Let alone Logan??

not_y/n: yeah you’re gonna get the best head of your life tonight babe

↳not_logan: 🥵🥵🥵🤩🤩🤩

↳not_oscar: please for the love of everything keep that shit to yourselves

↳not_y/n: just say you’re jealous and move on Aussie boy

↳not_oscar: why am I friends with you again

↳not_logan: we really didn’t give you a choice

↳not_y/n: we grew on you eventually!

↳not_oscar: like mold

↳not_logan: boo!!

↳not_y/n: boo!!!

oscarpiastri: congrats Logan!

↳logansargeant: thanks man!

alex_albon: congratulations! Show them how it’s done!

↳logansargeant: you know it! But it’s your turn next!

↳alex_albon: 🙌🏼🙌🏼

jv.f1: congratulations

↳user40: what in the world is with this dry ass congrats???

↳logansargeant: thank you!

georgerussell63: Many congratulations Logan! It was great to finally share a podium with you

↳logansargeant: thank you George! Hopefully the first of many!

logansargeant

liked by not_y/n, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 778,445 others

tagged: williamsracing

logansargeant: P3 BABY! WE DID IT! THANK YOU EVERYONEEEEEEEE 🩵🩵🩵

view all comments

user41: CONGRATS LOGAN

↳user42: THATS OUR AMERICAN BOY

y/n: Congratulations Logan! You do Florida and Miami proud

↳logansargeant: thanks y/n! You must be my lucky charm though

↳y/n: Oh no that was all you!

↳user19: 🫵☝🏻🫵🫵🫵🫵☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻

↳user19: THIS IS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT!!

nicolepiastri: congrats Logan!

↳logansargeant: thanks Mom Piastri

↳oscarpiastri: and what of your actual son?

↳nicolepiastri: you’d like a congratulations for 6th?

↳oscarpiastri: well yes?!

↳nicolepiastri: hmmmm whatever you want sweetie. Congratulations on 6th

↳user43: I live for Nicole dragging Oscar

user44: such a great drive today Logan! Show ‘em what Americans can do!

not_y/n: possibility of you sneaking away before media to meet me?

↳not_logan: not likely

↳not_y/n: damn. Well just now I’ve made it back to our place and I’ve found a way to keep myself busy 😉🥵

↳not_logan: you can’t do this to me. Not right before I have to talk to Jensen and Nico

↳not_y/n: 🤭🤭🤭

↳not_oscar: or never. You can do this never

jensonbutton: congrats kid!

↳logansargeant: thanks jenson!

Private Messages

y/n_nation

liked by user, sabrinacarpenter, georgerussell63, zendaya, oscarpiastri, and 19,245,927 others

y/n_nation: Our bags are packed and the flights are here! Welcome to the Eras Tour!

view all comments

zendaya: what a wonderful night 🖤

↳tomholland2013: thanks for dragging me!

↳zendaya: you begged me to go?

alexandrasaintmleux: what a stunning show! Best night of my life!

↳charles_leclerc: what an amazing show y/n! Love your piano work!

↳user48: flirting with another woman right underneath your girlfriends comment??

oscarpiastri: fantastic time!

↳hattiepiastri: THANK YOH OSCSR!

↳not_y/n: glad you enjoyed yourself!

↳hattiepiastri: thank you for the tickets and the sweaters and the records!!

↳not_y/n: anything for my favorite Piastri!

↳oscarpiastri: you’re welcome 😑

alex_albon: by far the best concert I’ve been to!

↳lilymhe: thanks for taking me baby!

↳alex_albon: of course!

↳lilymhe: and thanks y/n for such a magical night 😘

↳user49: what’s with the weird flirting? What’s happening right now???

carmenmmundt: ¡Qué noche tan magnífica! ¡Gracias y/n! What a magnificent night! Thank you y/n!

↳georgerussell63: I loved every moment of it y/n!

↳user50: I see the desperation has found this post as well 😂😂

↳user51: so has the second hand embarrassment 🫣🫣

user52: I can’t feel my face or my feet but oh my god what a magical night

↳user54: absolutely worth it!

↳user52: definitely gonna be the concert of the year!!

Bluesky

[mischiefmaker615]

Chef's Choice

Over the past time of having tumblr, i have collected my personal favorites- stories that i always get drawn back to when i need inspiration, something to read, and/or something to enjoy with whatever mood or situation that needs tending LOL (not in order and there are so many others i love!!)

Thought it be best to introduce you to some of the greats out there :D

“Seems like the prince of Asgard is seduced by a mortal woman”

By: @fictive-sl0th

(OMG i absolutely LOVE the doctor themed stories with Loki XD ya never know what direction it's gonna end up ;) )

A Coveted Bride

By: @magicbystarlight

(i absolutely LOVE jealous Loki, anything in the realm of dark theme and possessiveness XD we don't judge here. it's an enquired taste and darling, you cooked!!)

Duplicitous *Long Snake Moan*

By: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

(everything you write, i got to read! truth be told, we didnt ask for but we absolutely needed!!)

Pinned Down

By: @lokisgoodgirl

(come on, just by the titles alone you know it's gonna be good! everything you've written, i've fallen in love with each detail, nothing is rushed and personalities are captured beautifully! i've caught myself gasping out loud in public with some of the stuff you bring us and i absolutely love it!)

Overstimulation Welcome Him Home More Between His Thighs

By: @sarahscribbles

(had me drooling in kinktober!!! just the title alone, i hit favorite so i could read it when i got time and darling, you didn't disappoint! so many stories just draw my attention and every aspect of them is truly perfect!!! i need more!!!)

thirty seconds

By: @muddyorbsblr

(what i would give to be in the readers shoes!! omg i loved this!!! hit all the right feelings and i cant help but reread this far more than thirty times LOL)

The Chambermaid

By: @wheredafandomat

(i want Loki to step on me!!!! i wouldn't mind slave life if it meant serving him LOL gods this was perfect!! i always loved maid x Loki themed stories, keep them coming!!)

Kinktober Day 16

By: @suguru-getos

("we listen and we don't judge" *cough* i love me some CNC! seems like a very hidden kink topic so i got positively excited when i saw this mentioned in your writing and just HAD to read it Lol kinky indeed!!! truly my favorite fic of yours so far!)

Overtime Safehouse

By: @cleo-fox

(I'm pretty sure all of tumblr knows who you are Lol i have enjoyed EVERYTHING you've come out with; your plots, details and character embodiment, Loki is on point!! i cant even fathom where to begin on making storylines this deep with all the bells and whistles. you are truly an incredible writer!!)

"I can do….terrible things to you."

By: @oh-look-at-her

(i can't literally do anything but bow down to you and get up only when given permission LOL truly a damn good time reading your work!!)

Firestarter

By: @delaber

(who doesn't love a good enemies to lovers story Lol can't tell you how many people i've shooed while i was in the middle of reading this XD)

Frozen Stiff Happily Never After

By: @simplyholl

(tbh i struggle finding REALLY good Jotun Loki fics and absolutely fell in love with this one!!! thank you for letting me die in peace now Lol had me giddy and blushing!!)

Have Mercy

By: @mochie85

(you captured his hot and pain in the ass personality so well!!! i LOVED this went through all the emotions on this one!! kinda like an enemies to lovers story Lol why cant it be me!!!)

A Tales of Tangled Desires

By: @angelremnants

(i fell in love with the part one, not expecting for my request to be answered but i got a part two and absolutely have become obsessed!! i love your writing so much and thank you for the prayer being answered! Lol)

And The Gods Made Love

By: @thefairywithboots

(thank you for my request being answered!! anything you publish, i cant get enough of and love the pure art like pace you take to form every inch of your story!!)

[rueclfer]

evergreen

𖤓 part vii. | series m.list | prev | part viii.

touya had been at camp for less than 24 hours and he could already feel himself cracking. you were insufferable, stubborn, and self righteous, but it doesn't take him long to remember that you always had been.

betweens silent sips of the beer bottle twirling between his fingers, he thinks back on the summer after his sixteenth birthday- which he concluded was the last good summer before things started getting bad.

this was the year that touya had forgotten to pack deodorant for one of japan's hottest summers within the last decade. knowing you, it didn't take much convincing for you to practically beg him to take your spare. you two spent the entire summer smelling like lilac and white tea.

touya distinctly remembered all the teasing from other campers that so obviously made its way under your skin. you've always been so easily irritable. he probably spent that entire summer warning you about getting a crinkled tan line right in between your eyebrows from all the scowling.

he almost audibly laughs to himself. compared to the look on your face when you two made eye contact earlier today, he half-way wished it was that scowl instead.

touya leans his head back and lets it hit the smooth wood of the cabin wall, bringing the opening of the bottle up to his lips. this wouldn't be the first night he'd be drinking with you on his mind.

"dude, get your fucking shoes off my bed." tomura tosses a pillow off of hawks' bed, hitting touya's shoulder.

he rolls his eyes and straightens his legs, letting his feet dangle off the side of the bed.

"loser." he mutters into the back of his hand as he swipes it across his lips.

"and if you throw up on my bed, i'm setting your cabin on fire." tomura downs the remainder of the contents in his red solo cup. "y/n in it and everything, you fuckers can die together."

touya rolls his eyes with a glint of a smirk on his lips. 

“always such a romantic, shigs. you’re more than welcome to burn with us.”

"shut up, I can't stand emo on emo crime, or flirting or whatever the fuck you guys are doing." hawks slurs, swivelling back and forth on the desk chair with his cheek pressed against the palm of his hand. "y/n is just another one of touya's victims, leave them out of this."

tomura drops his head into his lap, slapping a hand over his mouth to suppress a fit of drunken giggles. hawks look over at him with a wide grin.

"that wasn't even funny, shigs." he giggles. "shut up or else touya's gonna beat your ass."

"me?" he exclaims. "you're the one who said some stupid shit, not me. i'm gonna tell y/n and have them beat your ass." he says in between laughter.

touya's eyes flicker between the two bickering and laughing back and forth in their drunken daze. if he was a bit less intoxicated, he'd have more to say to his idiot friends and their antics.

maybe that was a cue for him to leave.

touya sits for a bit longer. it would be wise of him to sober up before stepping out into the open woods and making the trek back to his cabin- especially if he had to come to face you this late. is this feeling excitement or dread?

he taps on his phone screen. 12:37 AM.

he wonders if you were done packing. it's been almost three hours since curfew. what would you be doing now? making a summer bingo card? read a book? going through his things? plotting his demise? you were always a mass of type-a unpredictability.

the cabin door suddenly swings open, bringing the bickering to a halt and inviting in the warm summer night breeze.

while the breeze rolls in, the air sucks out of touya's lungs.

"what?" you sheepishly say, suddenly self conscious over the amount of eyes on you.

touya noticed the familiar old jacket slung over your shoulder. there was really no need for one on a warm summer night like this, but of course you had to grab it.

just in case!

your voice rings in his head.

"am i interrupting something?" you cock an eyebrow, eyeing the line of empty beer bottles lining the wall. "weren't you losers just saying something about missing me? what're you guys so quiet about?"

"you're late." hawks exclaims, breaking the wall of silence. "shots. now. you need to catch up." he reaches down from under the desk and pulls out a half empty handle of vodka.

"nah, put that shit away." tomura slides himself off of hawks' bed and stumbles onto his own beside touya "i wanna go to sleep."

"pull it together, crustbucket." you huff, taking his spot on hawks' bed across from the others. "you can handle a couple more shots."

you silently said your prayers. you and touya haven't seen each other since the bonfire, and he hadn't bothered stopping by the cabin before heading off to hawks and tomura's. you weren't sure if you were unintentionally-intentionally avoiding each other, or if things really are different now.

get a grip.

you silently curse to yourself, accepting the handle of vodka that you were sure had been passed around many of the other counselors that had stopped by earlier.

you squint your eyes shut in anticipation before tipping the bottle back, taking in a deep swig of the lukewarm alcohol.

you hold your breath through the burning sensation crawling down your throat. a beat passes. then two.

your eyes slowly open and catch touya's. he doesn't notice his lips curling into a smirk or his head nodding in approval as you pass the handle over to him.

you were grateful that in this weather, with this alcohol settling in your stomach, the heat prickling your cheeks and ears could pass off as nothing.

"where'd you learn how to do that?" he casually brings the spout up to his lips, the smirk never disappearing.

"you don't think i know how to drink?" you cock an eyebrow at him.

"can't i be impressed?" he playfully rolls his eyes. "you used to be such a wimp when it came to this stuff."

you don't reply, but instead press your lips together and avert your gaze down to your shoes.

if they were kids again, touya would take this as a success. you don't let him win often- or at all, really, but there's something bitter laced with your silence.

things feel different.

a/n: ok time to check in how r we feeling abt this fellas!!!! i rlly do writing shigs n hawks like this like i lowkey think they should all kissssss heh

tags:

@iluv-ace @bitchyfestivalbouquet @redr0sewrites @babylambdietcoke @bnhabadass @hanmastattoos @1ndee @starsryi @nesrynsblog @twoplayergaymers @suksatoru @ita606 @pookiebear16 @fictionalcharactersownmyheart @in-the-marina-trench @haruhi269 @itgetzweird08 @ilophilia @chimimon @emluvs-sugu @punishblue @whorror-complex @akumakitsune21 @maddie-rose-1 @ixeyi @commonmisery @ggriwm @exselily @kryscent @starrmage @vannyinthestars @burnishingbagels @soobhns @kaybug88 @lantsovheiress @0skullyard0 @albakugo @sleepyk0dyz

[gtgbabie0]

Could you do VI with an insecure fem! reader? Like she walks in on the reader crying and staring at herself in the mirror wondering why she can’t be skinny and attractive like the other girls she sees. It’s just something I struggle with and if you can’t do it I totally understand!!

Thank you. 🖤

⋆⁺ ✮⋆⁺ Vi x Reader

Synopsis: {You’re feeling a little insecure about your body and Vi makes sure you know just how much she loves your curves} AN: Hope this is okay my love <3

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

Maybe it was the mirror, the bathroom lighting, the dress that seemed to hug at all the wrong places… or perhaps it was just you. It was a horrible feeling that you couldn’t shake. No matter what you tried to tell yourself or what position you took in front of the full-body mirror, your reflection was starting to make you feel nauseous. Coupled with the already present nerves of this stupid New Year’s party you and Vi were meant to be attending, it was awful.

The familiar tightness seizes through your chest and you can’t stop the tears that begin to prick at your eyes as you tug at the fabric of the dress as if you were trying to mould yourself into a different shape. You were so caught up you didn’t even hear Vi rushing up the stairs calling out your name— “Damn baby-” her words immediately die on her tongue as she takes in your tearful expression.

She doesn't waste a moment, rushing over to you, her rough palms cupping your cheeks, worried eyes scanning over your face. “Whoa, hey… hey, what happened?” Her tone is so sickeningly sweet that you can’t push her away even if the embarrassment that curdles through your body tells you to.

“Mm, nothin’ I’m just being silly.” You huff, sniffling as you wipe your wet cheeks with the back of your hand— turning your head to look away from her concerned gaze.

Vi cups your chin with her thumb and index finger, making you look back at her. “Don’t give me that, it ain’t silly if it’s makin’ you cry, baby.” She replies firmly, brows knitted together.

The words are stuck in the back of your throat and the only thing you can manage to get out is a tiny whimper, a noise of discontent as she catches a stray tear with her knuckle. It breaks her heart to see you like this, so coiled up with emotions that you can’t even communicate with her.

“Come on sweetness, talk to me please?” She prompts gently, ducking her head slightly to catch your teary gaze. Your fingers curl around her wrists to keep her hand against the side of your face, enjoying the warmth, the roughness of her palms somewhat grounding you from completely spiralling into a breakdown.

You sigh softly, biting down on the inside of your bottom lip and she watches your eyes flicker over to the mirror and then back up to her with a shuddering breath— then the realisation hits her and her stomach drops, shaking her head immediately as if she could read your thoughts.

“Oh, that's what's got you all up in knots? c’mere… come here.” Her hands are dropping to your hips, trying to guide you back over to the mirror.

“No Vi, don’t… I don’t—” Despite your protests, she turns you around, hands squeezing at your hips, making you face the reflection as she stands behind you, chin hooked over your shoulder.

Her hands smooth over your hips, up along your waist to interlace her fingers over your soft tummy that was shown off by the dress you were wearing— damn if Vi didn’t think you were absolutely drop-dead gorgeous in anything that fitted your curvy figure.

“What have I told ya, huh?” Her voice rumbles softly against your back, her thumb brushing over your abdomen as she lets her eyes slowly drink in the sight of you right up against her, just where you belong.

You huff in response to her words, tipping your head backwards against her shoulder with a small frown— lips pursed out in a small pout. “I don’t feel pretty. I’m fat and pudgy, and this dress isn’t flattering.”

The more you speak the more pissed off she is, not directly at you— never, just in general because how the fuck can you not see just how much of a complete knockout you are?

“Bullshit—” she huffs, pressing a kiss to the soft curve of your jaw with a small frown. “That’s all bullshit baby, you look so damm sexy in this.” Her lips brush along your neck as she talks, meeting your gaze through the mirror with a wink.

“I’m still pudgy.” You huff, glancing down at her hands that are splayed across your tummy.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, I love my girl just the way she is— pudge and all.” She promises, dropping a kiss against your shoulder. “You got more on ya to love, more to hold on to…” she continues, the tip of her nose running along your jaw as she nuzzles into the side of your neck. “… s’all soft and warm, you’re perfect, my perfect girl.” you hate how much your stomach flutters at her words, the way she smirks against your pulse point.

Her hands smooth across your stomach to rest over your hips, squeezing the fat lovingly as her eyes flicker across your curves then back up to your face to catch your gaze.

“Yeah?” She coos, chin propped up on your shoulder.

“Mhm, yeah… m’sorry,” The words are barely above a whisper and if Vi wasn’t practically hanging off of you she would’ve missed them.

“Don’t apologise gorgeous, just means I get to kiss it all better…” her caring smile turns into a cocky smirk and her hands are mapping over your curves and dips of your form, feeling you up as she presses big wet kisses all over your face and jaw— down to your neck and over your shoulders whispering sweet nothings into your skin until your all wide smiles and happy giggles.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

[marauder-misprint]

Ministry Party

Sirius Black x fem!Slytherin!reader

series masterlist

5.6k words

cw: swearing, fluff, Y/N

All of the Slytherin girls were going home for Christmas so your train compartment was packed like usual. Beatrice was gushing over her parents’ plans to take her to Paris during the break and how she planned on meeting a Beauxbaton boy for some holiday romance. Cora and Pandora were listening intently, but you stared out the window. You weren’t really interested in the love story that wasn’t likely to happen. After a while, Dorcas excused herself, saying something about going to find Marlene’s compartment. 

“So, Y/N, do you have any plans for break?” Cora asked once the door slid shut. 

“Mum and Dad are a bit pissed about my grades so probably studying? Bit dull, I know,” you said uninterested. 

What else were you supposed to say? Your parents might host a party where you’ll get drunk and grounded for the rest of break? You weren’t traveling. You didn’t daydream about meeting some boy on the streets around your house. If you were lucky, your mum would take you shopping so you could get gifts for everyone. More likely than not, you’d spend most of the break in your house, doing nothing too exciting. 

Cora frowned with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well, what’s no fun. Bea, you should abduct her! Take her to Paris with you!”

Beatrice smiled. “Yeah! Oh, you’d love it! It’s beautiful and the food and the wine!”

“I’d be forever in your debt if you stole me away,” you replied teasingly, although you did want to stop her from ranting on and on about the wonders of Paris again. “I’ll be lucky if I get to leave my neighborhood. No way Mum’s letting me leave the country.”

“Evan and I’ll be home. You should come visit,” Pandora says. “Wouldn’t be leaving the country.”

You gave a haughty laugh at that. “Oh, please. Do we need to cover how my parents can be? My mum would say she never gets to see me and I see you all term. It’s no use.”

“That’s not very hopeful,” Pandora scolded.

“My home isn’t hopeful. It’s where hopes go to die.”

The air in the compartment seemed to thicken. It felt like you had revealed a part of your home life that you usually kept behind closed doors. You didn’t know what they expected though. You stole from just about every store you went into and from people you thought needed to be taught a lesson. You had an ability to get alcohol and hide it somewhere in Hogwarts. You got a few bad grades and now your entire break would likely be forced revisions with your father telling you that your grades are a reflection of your future income; he had been a top student in all of his muggle schools. He would tell you that he didn’t get to where he was by slacking off. 

“Now that I think of it, I can’t say Evan will be around all of break,” Pandora mused out loud after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. 

“Junior?” Cora asked.

“Junior,” she confirmed.  “Ev never brings him around and I know they don’t go to Junior’s. Not actually sure where they go…”

“Don’t you have twin telepathy or something?” Beatrice asked.

The three girls laughed. You sat in silence, thinking about all the snide comments your parents would make. You were flexing your hands and cracking your knuckles unconsciously. Or maybe you did realize that you were doing it. It was somehow soothing. The repetitive pops from your fingers was a quiet symphony to you.

---

As you had predicted, being at home wasn’t a picnic. Your father gave a rant about grades and how important they were. Your mother said it was a blessing that Professor Slughorn didn’t drop you from his Slug Club. They insisted you revise everything that was covered in the semester. After the first two days back, however, the house was eerily quiet. You received and responded to letters from your room. You studied. You would reread spell books on the couch in the conservatory. Your mother would bring you the occasional cup of tea, but you knew it was more to check on your progress than an act of kindness. 

“Y/N, come on! We need to get going!” your mum called up the stairs on Christmas Eve. 

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom. It had been a while since you wore an actual dress. You wore skirts at school, but this was different. Your mother had picked it out, along with a pair of heels. It felt like a bit much. You looked through your jewelry box and frowned. Nothing looked like what you were picturing in your head to go with the dress. Then you remembered your school jewelry box that was at the bottom of your trunk. You dig it out and unlock it. You let out a small laugh as you hold up Williams’ necklace before putting it on. It looked perfect. You glance at Regulus’ ring. No. You relocked the box and grabbed a few rings from your normal jewelry collection.

You poked your head out of the door. “Mum! Can I borrow some earrings?”

You hear her sigh impatiently. “Yes, but be quick!”

You hurried into your parents’ room and took a quick look through her boxes. You grabbed the first pair of silver hoops that you could find. Then you met your mother by the front door. 

“Oh, that’s a lovely bracelet. When’d you get that?”

You looked down at your wrist. It was the tennis bracelet from Madam Malkin’s.

“Not sure. Found it in my room over the summer,” you answered.

The two of you got into the car where your father was waiting for you. 

“So, it’s Christmas Eve. I’m dressed up. You’re both very dressed up. Where are we going?” you asked from the back seat.

“You haven’t told her yet? No wonder she willingly got into the car,” you dad said, giving you a look in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

You did not like the sound of that.

“We are all going to the Ministry’s Christmas party,” your mother said shortly.

You let out a groan and threw your head back against the headrest. “I should’ve stayed at school!”

“Y/N…” your mother warned.

No one spoke for the rest of the drive. Your father put on music at some point to break up the silence. The Christmas party was for sucking up to some of the Ministry’s biggest donors and influences. It was stuffy and boring. None of your friends were ever there and the bartenders were determined to only serve those of age. Worst of all, you didn’t have a room you could easily retreat to to avoid it all. 

When you arrived and your parents got out of the car, you stayed seated. You didn’t even unbuckle. Your mother opened your door and glared. 

“Come on, Y/N/ Out.”

“No,” you said with a softness to your voice. “I’m good here. I’ll see you when it’s over.”

“Darling, listen to your mother. You’re coming in,” your father insisted. 

He reached in and unbuckled you. You let out a noise of protest. Then he put his arm around you and forcibly removed you from your seat. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Stop!”

Another couple arriving gave your family odd looks as they walked up to the building.

“You need to learn to carry yourself like a proper young lady or you’ll never get any respect,” your mother snapped at you. “That includes going to events you don’t want to be at. You must act respectable tonight. These are my employers!” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think I’ll just burn high society to the ground.”

Your mother chose to ignore your comment. She led you and your father into the building, greeting her coworkers and the event workers politely. Your father walked slightly behind you to make sure that you didn’t make a run for it. Once inside and without coats, he took his wife’s arm and walked with her, leaving you to either follow them or make it on your own. You scanned the room. Like usual and as expected, you saw no one your age. You recognized a few people from your parents’ smaller parties. You sighed. Then you realized that you lost your parents in the crowd. Apparently, if you stop walking for a moment, they speed off without you, despite saying they would keep an eye on you to make sure you behaved. You spotted a bench just off to the side. That would be your spot for the evening, you thought. As you sat down, you tried to suppress the urge to bang your head against the wall. 

“Orion and Walburga Black! Welcome!” you heard an event work say.

“You brought your sons, how lovely,” one of your mother’s coworkers said.

“Yes, they’re getting old enough to attend these events now,” a voice that must have been Walburga said. 

“Turning into young gentlemen,” Orion added, pride in his voice. 

“Welcome, Regulus and Sirius!” the event worker said. 

That made you want to bang your head against the wall even more. You turned your head just in time to see the family walk forward. You could see them all exchanging words, but in hushed tones. You assumed the boys didn’t want to be here as much as you did. Then you saw both of them spot you at the same time. You pretended not to see them, leaning back on the bench and closing your eyes.

“I see a classmate,” Sirius said smoothly, his voice no longer hushed. “I’ll find you when it’s time to go.”

“Go with him,” Walburga instructed Regulus. “Keep him out of trouble.”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see him nod and follow his brother toward you. They stood in front of you with their hands in their pockets. They stood there in silence for a moment as you kept your eyes shut. You knew they were standing there, but you hoped they would leave if you ignored them. 

“Y/N,” Sirius said. 

You opened your eyes slowly. 

“Maybe I was asleep?” you suggested flatly, looking from one brother to the other. “Not buying it? Eh, worth an attempt.”

“What are you doing here?” Regulus asked coldly. 

“Mum works for the Ministry. I’ve told you.”

Sirius gave his brother a sideways glance.

“Been to this event before?” he asked, sitting down on your left. 

Regulus sat down on your right. You felt awkward and could feel yourself blushing. You would have endless questions from your mother if she managed to see you like this.

“Sadly, yes. I’ve managed to get out of a few, but, alas, not this year.”

“How… how long is it?” Regulus asked. 

“Feels like twenty questions. You two have 17 left. But at least until 10. If they can’t get people to clear out, it goes longer.”

“What do we do?” Sirius asked.

“Sixteen,” you counted. “I usually do whatever I can do to pass the time. Rubbing elbows with Ministry members and who they consider as elite isn’t really my cup of tea.”

The ‘who they consider as elite’ made Regulus uncomfortable. You knew it would and it was only confirmed by him shifting in his seat. Sirius, however, seemed unfazed by it.

“Food? Drink?” Sirius questioned.

“Food is passed around on trays. Not horrible. Desserts are top tier. Drinks, you have to go through the bartenders at their stations.”

“Hm, that’s not going to do,” Sirius said, standing up. “Care to dance?”

He held out a hand to you. You just stared at it. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw the expression on Regulus’ face; it wasn’t pleasant. You took Sirius’ hand and he led you to the dance floor. 

“Any reason we just left your brother on the bench?” you asked him, casting a quick glance back to were Regulus was still sitting.

The younger boy’s face was stoney. Sirius laughed as he took your waist. Automatically, your arms went around his neck. You swayed to the slow song that was playing. 

“Oh, he’ll get over it. He would like to rub elbows with the Ministry-deemed elite. And from what I’ve heard, you and I, we’re cut from the same cloth.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked, “And what have you heard?”

“That you got Hog’s Head to serve you something other than butterbeer and then left after he found out you’re not pureblood.”

You scoffed. “Is that all? Because I’m sure as hell more than that.”

“Let me think,” he paused. “You’re the source of the drinks at Slytherin parties. You defended that Hufflepuff at the beginning of the year.”

Your hand came down to touch the necklace you stole because of that event. 

“You’re not too bad at school, and people like you.”

“You have to be liked to be in the Slug Club,” you said, unimpressed.

The music changed to a waltz and you both changed how you were holding each other.

“I don’t think being in the Club is your entire goal.”

“It’s not. Getting out alive is.”

“Huh…” Sirius said with a chuckle. “Who’s trying to kill you at Hogwarts?”

“Well, no one right now. That’s the perk of being well-liked.”

“I suppose it would be. I also know that you’re pretty and I’ve told as much. I told you that before Reg even asked you out.”

“You were drunk out of your mind,” you reminded him. “I could smell the whiskey on you before you got in my personal space.”

Sirius laughed. “And what I wouldn’t give to be that drunk again. Gives a little extra confidence-”

“Not that you need it,” you cut him off.

“If there’s more to you than being a half blood, then there’s more to me than my confidence.”

You looked over where Regulus had been sitting. He was no longer there. You assumed he went to find his parents or talk up some higher up Ministry worker. You noticed that several people were watching you and Sirius as you traveled around the dance floor.

“Where did you learn to dance anyways?” you asked him.

“Mother had me ‘n’ Reg take private lessons over the past few summers. You?”

“I went to a few classes two summers ago. Mum wants me to be a well-rounded young lady,” you laughed. “She still won’t drop it.”

“You’re well rounded in some parts,” he leaned in to whisper.

“Oh fuck off!” you scoffed. “Don’t make me slap you when you were actually being tolerable.”

“What do you mean by actually being tolerable? I’m a constant delight.”

“Maybe to Potter and Lupin and Petticoat.”

“Pettigrew.”

“Whatever. You say you’re more than your confidence but then you showcase your ego that’s up your arse.”

“Like you don’t have an ego?”

“My ego is earned.”

Sirius laughed.

“Besides a handful of house points, what’s your ego for?”

“Being liked and being able to handle it.”

He rolled his eyes, causing you to glare at him. You couldn’t believe you were still dancing, but you couldn’t seem to let go of him.

“That doesn’t earn you an ego. There has to be something more. I can earn house points. People like me. I can handle it. What’s the difference between you and me?”

“I… I… I’m not obnoxious when I’m being myself,” you found yourself saying.

The song ended and you took the opportunity to let go of him. You hurried off the dance floor and disappeared into the sea of people. Sirius stood still in the middle of the dance floor, watching you run away from him. Part of him wanted to follow you and get a real answer for why you thought you were better than him. By the time he decided that he did want to go after you and reached the edge of the crowd, you were long gone. He sighed and pushed his way through people. He kept an eye out for Regulus or his parents. It felt right that he should be avoiding them; it’s not like he wanted to be associated with them anyways. Unless someone was saying ‘the Blacks’ son, the one that’s nothing like them.’

You saw Regulus talking to the head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Your mother complained about him a bit; he was a source of plenty of paperwork. They seemed deep in conversation, which made you smile. You did admire how he could put aside his feelings to get down to business. But, like Sirius said, you just weren’t cut from the same cloth. You could tolerate each other most of the time, but his stance on blood status was a real killer. You turned to walk in the opposite direction.

“It must be my birthday,” you muttered to yourself, smiling. 

A full glass of wine was left unattended at a table. You casually walked over and picked it up. You took a sip and grimaced. It wasn’t your favorite nor a drink you would pick out for yourself in just about any other situation, but when you weren’t being served by the bartenders, you took what you could get. Holding the glass close to your chest, you walked away from the table and back towards the bench where you had originally been sitting. You involuntarily held your breath until you saw it. No Sirius nor Regulus nor your parents in sight. Coast was clear. You sat down and watched the people on the dance floor. When a song that required ballroom dancing or a waltz or something similar, it was amazing how many people flocked to the floor. If it was something more modern or something without well-known choreography, the floor emptied out more. You could tell that one group of younger employees were the interns your mother told you about. They joined the floor when the older songs ended and moderns stuff played, as they should, you thought. 

“So, you found yourself a drink. Thought they didn’t serve underage people,” Sirius said, leaning against the wall next to your bench.

“Go away, Black. Didn’t you get the hint that I was done with you?”

“Ah, that’s the problem though. I wasn’t done talking to you and, well, I get what I want.”

You rolled your eyes and looked up at him. He had loosened his tie and his shirt was less tucked than it originally was.

“Fine,” you said curtly. “Talk. Can’t promise I’ll respond.”

He took a seat on your left, just like before, except this side, he was sitting sideways with his right leg propped up so he could rest his arm on his knee and be facing you. You returned your gaze to the dance floor. 

“I want a real answer for why you’re better than me. Not obnoxious? Please.”

“I never said I was better than you. I said my ego was earned.”

“Same difference.”

“I don’t intentionally piss people off. I don’t purposefully make fools of people. I don’t step too far out of line.”

“You wore Regulus’ ring after things went south between you,” Sirius said.

Your breath hitched. You had to look at Sirius. How had he known? His grey eyes were boring holes into the side of your head so when you turned to look at him in surprise, he was already staring very deeply. A knowing smile appeared on his face when he saw your surprise.

“At a loss for words?”

You pressed your lips together as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“No,” you said coldly. You tried to steel your expression into something blank. “I just don’t recall which ring you’re talking about.”

A lie, but you didn’t know how much the brothers talked.

“Regulus give you more than one?”

“He never gave me a ring.” Not a lie.

“So you just happen to have a silver ring with emeralds in the same design as one my uncle gave Regulus, huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“And you just happen to have the same necklace that I’ve seen that seventh year wear?”

His eyes flicked down to your necklace and back up to your eyes. You frowned. There was no way Sirius knew. How could he know? Sure, the girls knew about your sticky fingers, but that was it. You studied Sirius’ handsome face instead of responding.

Then his expression changed. 

“Oh. He never gave you that ring.”

Sirius was connecting the dots. 

“He found out that you’re not pureblood and now you have that ring.” He paused and you swore you could see the gears turning in his head. “That girl nearly attacked a Hufflepuff and you have that necklace. And the bartenders aren’t serving you yet you have a wine glass…”

“What about it?” you asked, trying your best to keep your voice level as if that would somehow convince Sirius that he was wrong when he was absolutely correct.

“You fancy yourself a vigilante,” he said nonchalantly. He said it like an off-handed comment that meant nothing. His grin widened with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Told you we’re cut from the same cloth.”

You rolled your eyes before taking a sip from your glass. You swirled the liquid around. Part of you regretted responding to Sirius when he asked why you thought you were better than him. Now he knew too much. He took the glass out of your hand and had a sip himself. You snatched it back, giving him an annoyed look.

“Get your own,” you grumbled.

“Darling, you know I can’t. Unless you tell me where you got yours.”

You sighed, but maybe this would get him to leave you alone.

“Found it on a table. It’s the only way to do it around here.”

Sirius stood up and stretched dramatically. Then he held out his hand to you again.

“Help me find one.”

You lazily looked up at him with a confused look. 

“It wasn’t a question, love.”

The look changed from confused to annoyed in a flash. He reached to grab your free hand and pulled you up.

“No need to be rough,” you snarled.

“Come on,” he said, his smile never leaving his face. “Hanging out with me? Helping me find my own drink? Gotta be better than sitting by yourself.”

You drained the glass before setting it down on the bench.

“Let’s find me another one too, then.”

You were conflicted with how you felt about Sirius never dropping your hand as he led you through the throngs of people. Whenever you got too close to his parents or Regulus, he pulled you in the other direction and you did the same when you got too close to your own parents. 

“I’ll never hear the end of it if they see me with you,” you hissed at him, earning a hearty laugh from him. 

“They can recognize a Black from a singular glance?”

“No. You’re just a boy.”

After a few circles of the tables, you both had collected new drinks. Sirius had yet to drop your hand. He pulled you back toward the bench where all of this had begun, but then he kept walking. He turned down a hallway and through a door; you were dragged with him. He certainly had an iron grip. After going down another hallway, he opened another door.

“Perfect,” he said as he let your hand go at last.

You followed him into the room. It looked like a normal conference room. There was a long table down the middle of the room with chairs along its edges and a podium at the front of the room. Sirius took a seat and gestured to the chair next to him. You wordlessly sat in it. It didn’t take Sirius long to become comfortable; he rested his feet on the table as he leaned back in his chair. You, being in a dress and heels, kept your feet on the ground, although they were outstretched in front of you and crossed at the ankles. 

“Did you just… assume there was a room somewhere?” you asked. 

“Every good host knows to have rooms where people can disappear to,” he said, throwing his head backwards to shake out his hair. And then he ran a hand through it. “And, believe it or not, the Ministry has to be a good host.”

“I think there are different definitions of good host, Black,” you said.

You were about to go into a tangent about how your parents locked the spare room and their bedroom for parties. If someone needed a lay down, they would have to find your parents or risk being found in the kid’s room. However, you didn’t feel like explaining about all the parties your parents hosted to another Black. Having done so with Regulus was enough and that was on a date. This was… survival? You were doing whatever you could to pass the time. You looked around the room and decided that staying on the bench might have been a better idea. At least then you’d have something to entertain you.

“What’s with the sour look?” Sirius asked.

You frowned. “Nothing to be entertained by in here.”

He laughed. “Babe, I’m right here!”

“Do not. Call me. Babe.”

“Ooh, struck a nerve, did I?”

You made to stand up but Sirius stuck his arm out, stopping you. 

“Sorry. Won’t call you that again. Just trying to have fun.”

You rolled your eyes and adjusted in your seat. 

“So tell me ‘bout yourself.”

“Why?”

“To make conversation with the lovely girl in front of me?”

You shot him a disbelieving look.

“To pass the time?” he offered. 

“You could tell me about you instead. You love attention, don’t you? Love talking about yourself?”

Your voice was teasing but Sirius knew you meant to be insulting. 

“Tell me about this date you went on with little ickle Reggie. I only get so much from the rumors that go ‘round the castle, you know.”

You gave a soft laugh with a shake of your head. This guy. You lightly scratched your forehead.

“Uh, sure. Fine. Whatever,” you mumble. “There were two, actually. Watched a quidditch match and then explored the Hogwarts wall.”

You paused and looked at Sirius. You were surprised to see that he was staring at you, rather than literally anywhere else in the room or out the windows. He doesn’t say anything, but he gave you a smile to encourage you to go on.

“Then we went to Hogsmeade together. And it was going fine. Went to the Hog’s Head and just talked. It was fine. Until blood status came up and he told me to get off my soap box because I’m a pureblood so obviously I can’t talk. And I had to correct him, because I’m not. And he got quiet. You could tell… I could tell it was going to be an issue so I paid and left.”

The room filled with quiet as you stopped talking. 

“And then you got yourself a pretty little ring.”

You exhaled loudly through your nose.

“Yeah. I got myself a pretty little ring. Happy to know that about me?” 

“It’s an interesting tidbit, that’s for sure. You know, I have a matching ring. Red for Gryffindor though.”

“Great, so I’ll throw mine into the Thames next change I get.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “You’ll throw Regulus’.”

“It’s mine now. I don’t give things back.”

“Then why bother throwing it?”

“Because you have a matching one.”

“It’s not like anyone would know.”

“I’d know and that’s enough.”

The room got quiet again. You swirled your drink round and round in your glass. You were nursing it because you knew the moment you finished it, you’d want to leave the room to get another. Leaving the room wasn’t really the bad part. It was the likelihood that Sirius would follow you out. You stared at your drink in between sips. Sirius really had picked a boring room.

Because you were so focused on your glass and refusing to look anywhere else, Sirius stared at you unnoticed. It was almost like back at school. Only this time, he had an advantage. He was close to you. He could see the freckles on your arms. He could see the few loose strands of hair that were falling from your updo. He could see the eyeshadow you had on for the party. He could see your lipstick fading a little bit more with every sip you took and every time you moistened your lips. 

After a while, Sirius chuckled. A thought had occurred to him and he was about to share it with you.

“You know, I-” he started to say before the room’s door swung open. 

Both of you turned to see who it was.

“There you are,” Regulus’ cold voice rang through the room. It wasn’t a yell but the emptiness of the room made it bolder than it really was. 

Sirius groaned as his brother entered the room and took a seat a few chairs down from you.

“Tired of the Ministry elite?” Sirius asked, his voice suddenly colder compared to when he was talking to just you.

“Mum told me to keep an eye on you,” he answered monotonously. “Saw you come this way and you didn’t come back.”

“Mummy’s little pet, aren’t you?”

“Wait,” you said, sitting up straighter. You suddenly remembered hearing at some point that Sirius had run away over the summer. “Why are you even here?” 

Your question was pointed at Sirius, but neither boy spoke.

“You’re living with the Potters now, aren’t you? Why the hell are you here?”

Regulus laughed. It was colder, harsher than you recalled. 

“The dumbass forgot something in his room. He came back to get it and well, Mother has a way with persuasion.”

You looked from boy to boy. Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was probably the first time you saw him uncertain and almost squeamish. His body language wasn’t the confident boy you were becoming acquainted with, but he glared daggers at Regulus in an oh-so-familiar way. Regulus’ expression was slightly amused. You felt the need to break up the silence that was building between the boys. 

“Something important enough to go back for, but not enough to have been packed the first time,” you said with no real purpose. 

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“What was it? I didn’t hear,” Regulus said. He sounded so casual in comparison to Sirius.

“It… it doesn’t matter. I have it now and once we leave, I’m going back to the Potters.”

The room filled with thick silence again. You returned your gaze to your cup. With a Black brother on each side, you felt like you were sitting in the middle of a war zone. You only sort of knew what the war was about, which made it all that much worse. How do you defuse a bomb when you only know one of the wires? 

You’re not sure how much time passes between the last time anyone spoke and when you finish your glass. When you place it on the table in front of you, Regulus stands up and gives Sirius a stoic look.

“We better find Mother and Father.” A trained formality took over his way of speaking, as if preparing to talk to the adults again rather than peers. “Then you can go back to your family.” Bitter venom dripped off the last word.

Sirius nodded and stood up. He followed Regulus out of the room and you were left alone in the room. You sighed. But then the door opened again.

“I thought you were leaving?” you said, looking up at Sirius as he walked back into the room. 

He closed the door behind with extreme care to ensure that it didn’t make any noise.

“Regulus doesn’t know you stopped following him, does he?”

“There’s something I need to say first.” 

He had thought about it. He wasn’t going to say what he had intended when Regulus joined them without invitation. He needed you to know something else. 

“Okay, so say it,” you said, waving your hand in the air to say ‘go on, get it out.’

“I really do think you’re pretty. And you probably are better than me, earning that ego of yours. And that takes a lot for a person to do. But you did get immediately between the seventh year and the Hufflepuff. You did it before anyone else really knew what was going on. I didn’t know that you were the one Regulus liked right away, but once I did, I started to look for what he saw in you. And I found it. I see it. And that’s why I can’t leave just yet.”

Your eyes went wide as he approached you and put a hand under your chin. Then he leaned down to kiss you. It was sweet. Soft. Momentary. Then he straightened and headed back toward the door. He opened it and paused, looking back at you.

“Think about me,” he said before leaving to find Regulus and his parents.

You just sat there. A dumbfounded look was etched into your features at what had just happened. You needed to process it. You didn’t understand how you went from two dates with Regulus months ago to a kiss with Sirius. You thought about what Sirius had said. That he looked for what Regulus saw in you and then he found it. So they had talked about you, or at least about a girl Regulus liked, and then Sirius put two and two together. You also wanted to know what he left behind and went back for, and what their mother had said to Sirius to persuade him to attend this event with them.

tags: @nsr-15, @kabekusa, @made-for-oliverwood, @sunflowerscloudydays, @salvatt1, @sammyreid, @ravisinghs-wife, @petrificustottally

Hit the point where I need a masterlist for the series - woot woot

[danwhobrowses]

Critical Role C3 Ep 118 - Initial Thoughts

Well guys I maaaade it

It's 8am (well 9 now) and frosty in England and I had like, 1 hour light snoozing, I'm currently basking in the delusional energy being sleep deprived sustains until the inevitable crash but for now, an episode happened!

First of 2025, first I could watch in full thanks to PTO and willpower, shivering with nerves all day so let's cover the thoughts I remember at least (was staying as still as possible to avoid making noise for the others sleeping, so couldn't do the clickety clacks - and as you can tell by my use of 'clickety clacks' that my verbage may be as loopy as a rollercoaster at times)

Spoilers for the episode

Adorable abnormally named animals that looked more like a pupper and a gerbil, Bandit was true to his name

Oh geez more fucking monologuing, even Sam had the cup thing for it XD

Remember that fanart of Laudna, Orym and Ashton kicking Liliana after verbally dressing her down? Well that but this time with Ludinus, loved the pressing

Got some mini Ludie backstory and it was 'my family died as collateral in the Calamity', it's so hilariously basic at this point he deserved every bit of Ashton's 'get the fuck over it'

Part of me also couldn't help but think of Istho, the reluctant to die Paladin of the Lawbearer imprisoned at the Bloody Bridge literally a year ago, they had the same mantra

Would've been cooler to get a bit more Lawbearer sauce before in this campaign but fairs enough

Fearne just wants to give everyone cupcakes and candy and treats being the vessel of the God Eater like winning the lottery and I love her for it

It's not lost on me as an Ashton fan that Ludie never asked them what they wanted. There's a gist yes of controlling your own fate but still, got a lil' under your skin didn't they?

Chet no, don't try to open the cascade of sigils!

HA! Poofed out of his second monologue

Braius don't call him, you're gonna call him aren't you?

FUCKING LYING WHORE CHEATER BITCH Azzy, how's the family?

Brennan is untouchable but Matt's Fucking Lying Whore Cheater Bitch Azzy M still gives me the feeling of 'you know all the right things to say but I can still hear your manipulation'

Family, Braius, is right here! I get he's been around longer but first it's 'chase away and I'll remain' now it's 'don't let it out', mixed messages

I probably would've laughed to death if Ludie got distracted by the toy, though I do wish it was an Intuit Charge

RAVENOUS VOID OFF THE FUCKING BAT?? I was literally looking at that spell a few days ago

The aoe and save was so fucking high too, and I could've sworn Ashton can't be moved in Titan form, and resists all but Force Damage

Oh shit the neck! The neck comes back around!

God the cast rolled so badly for so long, and he kept saving and using his resistance

Not the neck ladies, the body, da body!

PATE I LOVE YOU

Pate noooo!

IRAAAAAAA I LOVE YOU!

MISTERRRRRR! I LOVE YOU!!

ASHTOOOOOOOON I LOVE YOU! That is my motherfucking barbarian tank killing the concentration

OH MY FUCKING DAYS POWER WORD STUN IMOGEN I FUCKING LOVE YOU!

I was counting the damage, once you knew it was below 150 all it needed was the math

Bless Ashley for wanting to go big but couldn't because of aoe

It had to be Orym, IT HAD TO BE ORYM, how's that for resolve?

Ira laughing in Ludie's face was cathartic too

'I don't want to hurt anyone, or kill anyone' - SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE ASHTON HATERS IN THE BACK!

We were so fucking close though, so close to the 'we can't absorb it but it can't stay here' point, we could've had an option C like sending it to a Demiplane

Surprised me how much Laudna pushed for pro-Predathos, given Imogen's reluctance, and Orym just unable to argue it because it's been argued to death

Oh god is he not dead? Fuckery duck, Laudna you have that ghost tracking thing right?

'What did you do to me, I used to be fun' - you still are you just have mushrooms planned with Fearne for after

Imogen you talked a lot about being free to decide your fate and now you're literally walking towards what 'fate' planned out for you

We are LITERALLY approaching what Ludinus wants to do

Child's voice is a nope, like an absolute nope

Like a 'Guys did we not learn from the Dominox?' nope

Because GUYS DID WE NOT LEARN FROM THE DOMINOX??

Orym insight checked a God Eater, got a whisper, stepped between it and the Ruidusborns, and that was not a red flag??

The collective 'ohhhh' though

Like, I get hearing it out, trying to see if we've simply been misinformed, but the proof is kinda in the pudding and it is dessert time

It knocked Chet into a wall for opposing, that's a nope

Hey Matt don't you think the Primordials partly responsible for this cage would have some resonance with it since we're getting clips of Tengar and Orym's Wildmother vision for all to see?

Imogen and Fearne NO

Predathos the nice hot faun lady told you to wait

Fearne YES but IMOGEN NO!

Fearne Yes! ...right? Answer the question cliffhanger! RIGHT?

I mean she heard her, that's something, are we gonna have to give Imogen her first death in the campaign? Can that staff factor in at all?

Definitely peeved that Imogen went and pulled a Frodo right at the last moment, but like the One Ring in Mount Doom she is being lulled by Predathos muddying her instincts, so I can kinda see why she thought it the kindest option, also le drama I suppose, Laura Bailey had to put her own third wedding one-shot in jeopardy

I have to be at work next week and there's a likelihood that the worst ending happens and Ludinus didn't get his ancient elf ass handed to him permanently ;_; so the stage is different, the health and spell slots are lower, but the fear is the same and I can't stay up for it

Contrary to others though I do still want a happy ending, the Hells aren't bad or evil for what they were attempting; the intentions was still good it was just not right. Someone else would've come, if not Ludinus then someone else with the same plan, but this is why we should've discussed alternatives earlier, this is why a united goal is important and why the Arch Heart fucking up the plan with his visit rubbed me the wrong way

At least now the Hells are gonna be on the same page with Predathos, it's about saving your people - so, save your people

[wadewnstonwilson]

you leave ryan alone!!!;

summary: Logan navigates the chaotic disaster zone that is Wade’s apartment, a cluttered mix of trash, weapons, and stolen road signs. Their banter is filled with humor and affection, from Wade’s proud display of a cardboard cutout of Ryan Reynolds as his "emotional support actor" to his relentless teasing of Logan’s brooding nature.

word count: 3.8k

Wade's apartment was a monument to entropy, the kind of place where logic went to die and chaos thrived unchecked. Discarded takeout containers were stacked in precarious towers, like culinary Jenga, while candy wrappers and bullet casings coexisted in scattered piles across the floor. A katana lay abandoned on the hallway carpet, dangerously close to tripping Logan as he maneuvered through the minefield of clutter. The air carried an eclectic mix of old tacos, pizza, and something... vaguely chemical. Logan couldn't identify it, but he didn't trust it.

Pausing in the doorway, Logan crossed his arms, a deep sigh escaping his lips. His gaze swept over the disaster zone that Wade proudly called home. "This place is a goddamn nightmare," he muttered.

From his perch on the couch, Wade popped his head up, wearing an oversized t-shirt that read "I’m not immature, you’re just a poopyhead" and mismatched socks. He was mid-bite of what Logan suspected was a suspiciously old taco, grinning like a kid caught playing hooky.

"Something on your mind, claws?" he asked, his voice dripping with faux innocence as he kicked his feet up onto a precarious stack of comic books that doubled as a coffee table.

Logan bent down, lifting a katana off the floor and holding it up like evidence in a murder trial. "Yeah. You ever consider cleaning up? Or is this your version of a tactical defense system—death by tetanus?"

Wade rolled his eyes, tossing the taco onto a nearby plate that already had half a burrito and two questionable sushi rolls on it. "Oh, relax, Martha Stewart. It’s not that bad. You’re acting like you’ve never seen a little organized chaos before."

Logan raised an eyebrow, stepping over a pile of what appeared to be road signs. One read "No U-Turn" and another "Do Not Enter." He glanced back at Wade. "Pretty sure ‘organized’ isn’t the word you’re looking for, Wade."

Wade smirked, clearly enjoying Logan’s irritation. "Come on, don’t tell me you don’t find this charming. It’s got personality. It’s like a little scavenger hunt every day. Who doesn’t love surprises?"

Logan reached the coffee table and moved a stack of empty soda cans to make room to sit. "This isn’t personality, Wade. This is a biohazard. And don’t get me started on the smell. What the hell is that?"

"Vintage tacos," Wade said proudly, like it was a badge of honor. He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. "You can’t rush perfection, Logan. You just gotta embrace it."

Logan groaned, grabbing a half-empty bottle of whiskey off the counter and placing it next to a forgotten pizza box. "You live like this?"

"Live like this? I thrive like this." Wade shot him a cheeky grin, clearly unbothered by his disdain. "Admit it—you secretly love the chaos. It gives you something to do while you’re brooding."

Logan paused mid-step, his sharp eyes narrowing as he fixed Wade with a deadpan stare. His arms crossed over his chest, and the faintest twitch of annoyance flickered at the corner of his mouth. "Brooding?" he repeated, his tone as flat and unimpressed as ever.

Wade, unfazed and seemingly energized by Logan’s irritation, nodded with exaggerated solemnity, adopting the air of a professor delivering a lecture. "Oh, absolutely. It’s your signature move, claws," he declared, waving a hand in a grand, dismissive gesture. "You’re like the poster boy for ‘silent angst.’ You know the type—always sitting in the corner, sharpening your claws like it’s some meditative art form. Staring off into the middle distance, shoulders all tense like you’re carrying the weight of the world. Hell, sometimes I half-expect to find you narrating your own tragic backstory to a raccoon or something."

Logan’s expression didn’t budge, though the slightest hint of a sigh escaped him as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen into his face. "You’re impossible," he muttered, the words laced with an almost resigned exasperation, as though he’d long since accepted that there was no winning with Wade.

Wade, predictably, pounced on the comment, his grin spreading wide enough to rival the Cheshire Cat. "And you fucking love it," he shot back without missing a beat, his voice dripping with gleeful mischief. With an almost theatrical flourish, he snatched a candy bar from the cluttered table, unwrapping it with a level of intensity that suggested he was unearthing buried treasure. He bit into it with a loud, unapologetic crunch, the sound echoing through the room as he chewed with exaggerated satisfaction.

Leaning back against the couch, Wade pointed the half-eaten candy bar at Logan like it was some kind of truth-telling baton. "But let’s be real here, claws," he continued, his voice taking on a faux-serious tone that was utterly undercut by the chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth. "You know why you keep coming back, don’t you? Why you put up with all this glorious chaos? It’s ‘cause deep down, under all that broody, grumpy, emotionally constipated lumberjack bullshit, you need this. My mess. My madness. My unfiltered, high-octane, batshit brilliance. Admit it—you’re addicted to the Wilson lifestyle."

Logan leaned against the counter, watching him with a mixture of irritation and amusement. "If by ‘lifestyle’ you mean ‘living in a garbage heap,’ then yeah, I guess I’m addicted."

Wade gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "How dare you! This is not a garbage heap, Logan. This is my home. And it’s got history! Memories! Look!" He gestured to a pile of random junk in the corner. "That’s my collection of Taco Bell sauce packets. Limited edition. And over there? Those are all my stolen road signs. It’s art, claws. ART."

Logan snorted as he picked up the life-sized cardboard cutout of Ryan Reynolds that had been propped up haphazardly against the wall, partially obscured by an overturned pizza box and what looked like a pile of mismatched socks. He turned it around, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied the pristine, smug grin of Reynolds staring back at him. “What the hell is this?” Logan grumbled, holding it out at arm’s length like it might bite him. “Why is there a life-sized cutout of this guy just hanging out in your disaster of a living room?”

Wade’s head snapped up from where he’d been sprawled on the couch, absently twirling a katana. His eyes lit up with an unmistakable spark of delight as soon as he spotted Logan holding the cutout. He clambered to his feet with the enthusiasm of a kid catching Santa Claus red-handed. “Ah, you’ve met Ryan!” he said, his voice practically dripping with pride. “He’s, uh, kind of my boyfriend.”

Logan froze mid-sentence, his face twisting into a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “You’re dating a piece of cardboard?”

Wade’s grin instantly vanished, replaced with an indignant scowl so fierce it could have peeled paint off the walls. “Excuse me?” he growled, his tone laced with the kind of outrage reserved for personal attacks and pineapple on pizza. In a flash, he stormed across the room and snatched the cutout from Logan’s hands with the protective fervor of a mother tiger defending her cub.

“First of all, you ungrateful, broody lumberjack,” Wade began, hugging the cardboard Ryan Reynolds close to his chest like it was a priceless artifact, “Ryan is not just a piece of cardboard. He’s my emotional support actor, you hairy, judgmental bastard. My anchor in this cruel, chaotic world. The only one who gets me—and that includes your grumpy ass, thank you very much.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s a damn cutout, Wade.”

Wade’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the cutout tightening as if Logan might snatch it back. “You take that back. Right the fuck now, Logan. I swear to God, I will climb up your big, brooding tree-trunk ass and carve an apology out of your soul with my bare fucking hands if you don’t take that back.”

“Are you serious?” Logan asked, incredulous, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“AM I SERIOUS?!” Wade shrieked, flinging his arms wide like he was about to deliver the Gettysburg Address to a stadium full of people. His voice shot up several octaves, somewhere between manic disbelief and a toddler denied dessert. “Does THIS face—THIS masterpiece of chaos and rage—look like it’s joking, Clawsifer? You’re goddamn right I’m serious! Ryan Reynolds is not just a national treasure—oh no, no, no! He’s an international fucking phenomenon! He’s a global sensation! He’s the Michelangelo of wisecracks, the Picasso of sexy smirks, and you—YOU, you tragic lumberjack of a man—are standing in the holy, cardboard-preserved presence of greatness!”

Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if physically holding his patience together. “Wade, it’s a cardboard cutout. He doesn’t even know you own this thing.”

“EXACTLY!” Wade bellowed, pacing now, gesturing wildly with one hand while cradling the cutout protectively in the other. “That’s the whole goddamn point, Logan! He doesn’t know! And yet, here he is, in my living room, supporting me emotionally and spiritually like the saint he is! You think you bring that kind of stability into my life? No, sir! That’s Ryan! Ryan fucking Reynolds, my cardboard rock in a hurricane of bullshit!”

Wade snapped, gesturing wildly with one hand while the other remained firmly planted on the cutout’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was talking to Oprah fucking Winfrey, expert on all things emotional and spiritual! Newsflash, Logan—Ryan and I have a connection. A bond. You wouldn’t get it because you’re too busy brooding in your little Canadian emo bubble to appreciate the finer things in life.”

Logan couldn’t stop the chuckle that rumbled up, shaking his head as he leaned back against the counter. “You’re certifiably insane.”

Wade’s eyes widened, a wild, almost feral grin splitting his face as he practically vibrated in place. “And you’re a walking Pinterest board for unresolved trauma!” he fired back, jabbing a finger in Logan’s direction like a deranged motivational speaker. “You wanna go, claws? Because I will fight you over this. Oh yeah, I’ll throw down right here, right now. I don’t have your super-shiny, extra-special adamantium claws, but you know what I do have?” He threw his arms out wide, voice climbing in both pitch and intensity. “Passion! That’s right, motherfucker—pure, unadulterated, fiery, chaotic passion! And passion beats claws every damn time. It’s called heart, Logan. Google it. Read a book. Watch a Hallmark movie, for fuck’s sake!”

Logan rubbed his temple, closing his eyes briefly like he was praying for strength. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

“And yet here we are!” Wade crowed, throwing his hands into the air as if the universe itself had just proven him right. “You, me, and Ryan Reynolds—my emotional support boyfriend—locked in an epic battle of wit, trauma, and just enough sexual tension to keep things spicy. It’s poetic, really.” He gestured to the cardboard cutout of Ryan still propped against the wall. “Don’t you feel alive, claws? Don’t you feel the spark?”

Logan opened his eyes and stared at Wade, deadpan. “The only thing I feel is a headache.”

Wade gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from a guy whose entire personality is a brooding, walking Advil commercial.” He leaned in, eyes wild, his grin so manic it was almost endearing. “But it’s okay, Logan. I forgive you. Because I’m the bigger person.”

“Pretty sure you’re the louder person,” Logan muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.

“You started it!” Wade declared, his voice climbing an octave as he hoisted the cardboard cutout over his head like a trophy. “You came into my sacred space, insulted my Ryan, and now you think you can walk away unscathed? Not on my watch, you judgmental prick. Ryan is family. Ryan is love. Ryan is life. And if you can’t respect that, then you can take your hairy, self-righteous ass and waltz right back out that door.”

Logan stared at him for a long moment, his lips twitching as if he were fighting back a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you fucking love it!” Wade practically screeched, his smirk snapping back into place with an intensity that could fuel a thousand suns. He clutched the cutout tighter, rocking back and forth on his heels like a caffeinated toddler. “Now, say you’re sorry to Ryan, or so help me, claws, I will break into your sad little liquor stash, replace your whiskey with apple juice, and then sit here and watch you suffer.”

Logan exhaled the kind of sigh reserved for dealing with hurricanes and Wade Wilson. “Fine,” he muttered, dragging his hand down his face. “I’m sorry… Ryan.”

“YES!” Wade yelled, throwing his hands in the air like he’d just scored the winning goal at the World Cup. His grin exploded across his face, manic and victorious. “Apology accepted! Look at you! Growth! You’re becoming a better man before my very eyes. I’m so proud, claws. So goddamn proud. I might cry. Wait, no. That’s just gas. But the sentiment is still there!”

Logan shook his head, his resignation palpable. “I don’t even know why I put up with you.”

“Because I’m the human equivalent of an energy drink mixed with glitter glue, and you can’t live without me,” Wade declared, spinning on his heel and planting a loud, dramatic kiss on the cardboard cutout. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Ryan and I have to celebrate this monumental moment in emotional intelligence. You can stay. You can watch. Hell, you can even take notes, claws. Take notes!”

As Wade set the cutout back against the wall with exaggerated reverence, patting it like a prized pet, Logan muttered, “Still insane.”

“And yet,” Wade shot back, spinning around with a flourish and pointing finger guns at Logan, “you’re still here. Can’t quit me, can you, claws? Admit it—I’m the glitter bomb of chaos your boring-ass life didn’t know it needed.”

With a theatrical twirl, Wade strutted back to the couch like he was on a runway, only to collapse onto it in a heap of limbs, the cushions puffing out beneath him. The move had all the grace of a toddler diving into a ball pit, and Wade reveled in it. He snatched a half-eaten taco from the plate on the coffee table like it was a trophy, taking an enormous, unapologetic bite, bits of lettuce and salsa flying everywhere. He waved the taco at Logan like a wand, his voice muffled by food.

“You know, claws,” Wade said, chewing with exaggerated vigor, “you could learn a thing or two from Ryan. Like, I dunno, how to loosen the fuck up and maybe—just maybe—stop being the human embodiment of a storm cloud. Crack a smile! Laugh a little! Hell, I’ll even settle for a grunt that doesn’t sound like it’s auditioning for a horror movie trailer.”

He flung himself sideways, legs sprawled over the armrest, gesturing toward Logan with the taco like it was some divine scepter of truth. “Come on, Logan. Live a little! Eat a taco! Love a Ryan! Do something that doesn’t involve brooding like you’re contractually obligated to make everyone in a 50-mile radius feel awkward.”

Logan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched Wade with a mixture of irritation and amusement. “Ryan Reynolds isn’t even here, Wade. He’s a cardboard cutout. A prop. And you’re sitting there acting like he’s your damn life coach.”

“Not a prop,” Wade said, his mouth still full. “He’s a spiritual guide. My North Star. My rock in the turbulent sea of life. And, honestly, the only reason I haven’t completely lost my shit living with you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his patience already hanging by a thread. “You live like this. Don’t pin your insanity on me.”

Wade froze mid-chew, eyes narrowing like he’d just declared war. He swallowed hard, leaning forward with the intensity of a caffeinated squirrel, pointing a dangerously wobbling taco at Logan like it was a loaded weapon. “Oh, don’t pull that holier-than-thou shit with me, Mr. ‘I-Need-Alone-Time-To-Brood-In-The-Wilderness.’ You think I don’t know what you’re doing out there? Scaring deer, punching trees, and traumatizing the poor woodland creatures just to avoid talking about your fEeLiNgS? Spoiler alert, Logan—they’re not impressed!”

Logan let out a long, deliberate sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m not having this conversation.”

“Oh, but we ARE!” Wade practically yelled, leaping up from his spot on the couch and throwing his arms out wide, bits of taco filling the air like confetti at a parade. “Because if we don’t, I’ll have to bring Ryan into this, and trust me, he will NOT be pleased with your emotional constipation. Do you want Ryan—sweet, perfect, understanding Ryan—to be disappointed in you?”

Logan blinked, staring at the mess Wade was creating as shredded lettuce clung to his shirt. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about, Peanut." Wade continued, pacing the room with the chaotic energy of a raccoon on a sugar high, the taco now completely forgotten in his hand. “Ryan doesn’t judge. Ryan gets me, Logan. And when I tell him about how you’re out there growling at bears instead of dealing with your emotional trauma, he’s gonna look at you with those big, soulful eyes and say, ‘Logan, I expected better.’ And that’s a guilt trip you’ll never recover from. I hope you’re ready for that.”

Logan’s mouth twitched, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his composure. “Tell him what, Wade? He’s a piece of cardboard. What’s he gonna do? Give me the silent treatment?”

“Exactly,” Wade shot back, slamming the taco down on the plate like it was a mic drop. “And the silent treatment from Ryan is worse than anything your claws could do. It’s soul-crushing. Life-altering. You’ll never recover.”

Logan sighed, dragging a hand down his face like the weight of the world was hanging off his shoulders. “You’re exhausting.”

“And you fucking love it,” Wade shot back, springing to his feet with the energy of a caffeinated squirrel. He twirled in place, grabbed the half-empty candy bar from the table, and took a dramatic bite before kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, nearly toppling over a precarious stack of magazines. “Now, come on, claws! Sit your grumpy ass down. Let’s watch some Golden Girls before you pop a vein and start spewing rage poetry.”

Logan grumbled something unintelligible but gave in, trudging to the fridge to grab a beer. As he turned, Wade was already leaning over the couch arm like a hyperactive child, waving his hands and miming hurry up gestures. “Let’s move it, buddy! The sass queens of Miami aren’t gonna wait forever! I got Blanche on speed dial.”

“Do you ever stop?” Logan muttered as he flopped onto the couch with the weight of a man resigned to his fate.

“Never!” Wade cackled, practically launching himself across the couch until his shoulder was pressed against Logan’s. “And yet here you are, claws. Sitting right next to me. Can’t stay away, can you? Admit it. If I weren’t here, your life would be as boring as oatmeal.”

Logan glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Sometimes I think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

“And yet,” Wade interrupted, throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulders and pulling him closer, “you keep coming back for more. Because deep down—deep, deep down in that hairy chest of yours—you’d miss me if I were gone. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Logan didn’t answer, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He took a swig of his beer, his silence more telling than any words could be.

Wade leaned his head against Logan’s shoulder, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “See? I knew you couldn’t resist my charms. Now, pass me the remote. Ryan and I need our dose of Bea Arthur before bed.”

Logan handed him the remote, shaking his head as the TV flickered to life. “You’re an idiot.”

“Hell yeah, I am!” Wade declared, snatching the remote like it was the Holy Grail and flinging himself onto the couch with the grace of a deranged cat. He flung an arm around Logan’s shoulders, pulling him closer with the enthusiasm of someone who had just won the lottery. “But I’m your idiot, claws! Your loud, sexy, unpredictable idiot. Now shut that broody trap of yours and let me bask in the glorious life lessons of these fabulous, elderly queens!”

Logan raised an eyebrow but said nothing, taking a sip of his beer as Wade mashed the buttons on the remote like he was launching a missile strike. The TV volume spiked, and Wade immediately started singing along to the theme song, horribly off-key but with enough manic energy to power a small country. “THANK YOU FOR BEING A FRIEND! TRAVELED DOWN THE ROAD AND BACK AGAIN!”

“You’re gonna give me a headache,” Logan grumbled, though there was the faintest twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth.

“Good!” Wade said, cackling as he tossed the remote onto the coffee table, nearly toppling an empty beer can in the process. “It’s character building! Keeps you sharp, claws. You’re welcome.”

Without warning, Wade launched himself sideways, sprawling half across Logan’s lap, his legs dangling off the armrest like he didn’t have a care in the world. He grinned up at Logan with wild, mischievous eyes. “Admit it. You’d miss this face if I weren’t around. Who else would serenade you with Golden Girls theme songs and remind you that life’s too short to brood?”

Logan sighed, shaking his head as he downed another sip of his beer. “You’re exhausting.”

“And you’re boring!” Wade shot back with a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “But together? Together we’re fucking magic. Peanut butter and jelly. Chaos and brooding. The ultimate power couple! Admit it, claws, you love me.”

Logan didn’t respond, but the tiniest, begrudging smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Wade noticed, of course—he noticed everything.

“Ha! There it is! That’s the look of a man who knows he’s stuck with me forever,” Wade crowed, jabbing a finger in Logan’s direction as he grabbed Logan’s beer right out of his hand. “Now shut up and let me drink your beer while we bask in the glow of Dorothy Zbornak’s eternal wisdom.”

Logan didn’t bother protesting as Wade tipped the bottle back and then flopped dramatically against his chest like he was auditioning for a soap opera. For all his grumbling, Logan found himself leaning back into the couch, letting Wade’s manic energy wash over him like a storm he’d long since stopped fighting.

Life with Wade was a goddamn whirlwind, but Logan wouldn’t have it any other way.

[its-luna-noel]

soul tied | gojo x reader

01. the knight, the witch, and the coffee shop

"You're not going to die on me." "My love, not even death could keep me from you." When the love of your life - or one of your lives - is on death's door, you perform a soul tie ritual to make sure you'll meet again. This tie binds you across time, space, and every universe; your souls now belong to each other. But even a soul tie doesn't make love easy.

warnings: f!reader, reincarnation au, soulmates au, threads of fate, angst, pining, slow burn, fluff, meet cutes in every life, non-linear storytelling

word count: 2.7k

chapter: 1/? next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi this idea has been stuck in my head, and it might be a little ambitious to pull off what i want to do with it, but i hope you enjoy anyway!

1174, Britannia 

The only sound in the small hut is the frantic clinking of vials and labored, painful breathing.

Your hands shake as you dig through your shelves of ingredients and herbs, hurriedly making a poultice to stop bleeding and ease pain. You feel like you might get sick, though you’re not sure if it's actual queasiness or if your heart simply can’t bear the stress of the situation.

A hand catches your wrist, smearing crimson blood on your skin beneath the wide sleeves of your tunic. Another raspy breath pierces your heart. “My love–”

You grit your teeth, though if it’s out of true frustration and anger or just to bite back tears, you’re unsure. “Sir Gojo,” you say, and there’s a sharpness to your tone that is not unfamiliar, “unhand me so I may heal you.”

The knight that’s laid out on your bed lets out a soft huff of a laugh, then coughs. Blood spatters his lips when he does. “You won’t even let me hear my given name from your lips before I die?” You think his tone is meant to be playful, but his voice is too weak for it to come across that way.

Tears burn in your eyes once more. “You are not dying! I won’t let you.”

He gives another soft, wavering smile. The hand that’s not on your wrist presses a thick linen cloth to the wound in his belly; it’s already soaked through with blood. Even if you’re too stubborn to admit what’s happening, he already knows.

Satoru Gojo is dying.

You go back to frantically shoving herbs into the mortar on a nearby shelf, grinding them into a paste that’s thick and fragrant. The fresh smell of yarrow and goosegrass is calming to you, and you try to concentrate as you breathe them in, telling yourself that everything will be okay.

You’re not going to let him die.

You turn from your working station, stone mortar held in one hand as you come to kneel at the bedside. You push aside his torn tunic, the jagged tear from a sword making your stomach clench once more. Then you pull his hand away from the wound and try not to weep.

The wound is deep; you already sutured it with thread made from sheep intestine, but the stitches are ugly and hurried, and you can do nothing for whatever internal damage he’s taken. You’ve seen many wounds like it, and all were fatal. But you know this knight, he’s the strongest you’ve ever met; surely a wound like this can’t fell him? He can’t die by such…mortal means.

He’s watching you, startling blue eyes trained on your face as you take in the wound.

You dip your fingers into the mushy poultice, then start to smear the mixture over the crude stitches. It’s thick and wet, and the knight winces as you put gentle pressure on the wound. You apologize softly, fingers moving with reverent intensity as you try to dress the wound.

It’s still weeping blood.

Then, very quietly, the knight murmurs your name, and you look up, once again meeting those bright blue eyes.

Those eyes are already starting to fade.

You take in the sight of him, how pale he looks, how his white hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat. His knuckles are white, too, with how tightly he’s gripping the sheets, and you can only imagine the pain he’s in while laid out on your bed. The small cot has never been glamorous enough for a knight like him.

It surely isn’t glamorous enough to be his deathbed.

He whispers, expression open and vulnerable. “Tell me you love me, too. Tell me you would’ve married me.”

Your eyes sting; you’ve always been far too stubborn to allow him to properly court you. No knight should lower their societal standing to court a witch, and you’ve said that over and over to him, but he never seemed to take the hint.

And now, as you sit here, you know it’s true. You do love him. You would’ve married him.

“In every lifetime,” you whisper.

He huffs another laugh, eyes tracing over your face. Even disheveled and worried nearly to death over him, he still finds you as enchanting as the day you met. “That’s blasphemous, you know,” he says, and you can’t believe even in his last hours he’s teasing you.

Perhaps that’s part of the reason you love him.

He continues, a soft lilt to his voice, “I’d say I’ll see you at the pearly gates, but they say witches don’t go to heaven.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Your voice cracks. “You’re not going to die on me.”

“My love,” he says, and he raises a shaky hand to brush your hair out of your eyes, painting your temple with his blood, “not even death could keep me from you. I will see you again, or else I will raze heaven and hell to find you.”

I will see you again.

And that’s what gives you an idea. You remember an old tome you read as a child during your studies with your coven. You thought it was overly romantic at the time, an old spell that could never work, because could magic truly conquer death?

You’ve never had anything that made you want to try before.

“Sir Gojo,” you say, catching his hand and holding it to your cheek.

“Satoru,” he insists.

You fight to swallow. “Satoru,” you correct yourself, and your voice strokes the name with the softest of caresses. “I…I want to try something. A ritual. It might…it might not work, it might do nothing but– but it’s a chance to see each other again, a chance to–”

He doesn’t even let you finish, he’s already nodding. “Yes.”

You hesitate. “It might keep you,” you say, “from whatever afterlife you’re hoping to find.”

“The only afterlife I want is another life with you.”

You hold his hand to your cheek for a moment longer, before you turn your face and kiss his bloody palm. Then you stand and grab your first grimoire from your bookshelf, the leather ratty and tattered by the years it has weathered. You flip through pages, frantically searching through the first rituals and spells and potions you ever learned, searching and searching until…

You find it, and your fingers gently stroke the parchment. A soul tie.

You take a deep breath, reading the ritual notes and instructions, gathering the necessary ingredients. Dried rose petals, pink quartz shards, cinnamon, and two candles. One red, for your heart, and one blue, for Satoru’s.

Then you cut a length of thread and bring the supplies back to the bedroom.

Satoru is fading fast; you can see it in his eyes that he’s trying to stay, trying to let you do whatever it is you’re doing. You want to kiss him for it, want to thank him for staying with you, for holding on.

You don’t. Instead, you set up the ingredients at the bedside, drawing your ritual circle with honey. You place the candles in the center, then surround them with the petals, crystal shards, and spices.

Then you light the candles and you begin the ritual.

“Keep my heart and soul near,

Even where my body cannot cross,

Death shall have no hand here,

And we shall never again know loss.”

You recite the ritual chant, and as you do, you tie the thread to Satoru’s left wrist, then to your own. Once you fall silent, you glance at him, finding him watching you with dim eyes. The flickering flames from the candles throw shadows across his sallow face.

“Did it work?” he murmurs.

Your heart aches, because you don’t know; you can’t. You’re not even sure this ritual is a real one; it could’ve just been an old witch’s tale to tell young children when they ask for a love story.

But you don’t want him to worry, not as he’s lying there dying in your bed. So you just nod, fighting back tears, and raise the hand that’s bound to his to brush through his hair. “It worked,” you whisper, and you lean forward to kiss his forehead, lips lingering for a long moment.

He lets out a soft sigh and relaxes into your bed. And when you pull back, his blue eyes are open and unseeing.

And so, just in case you don’t see him again, you say your goodbyes, weeping into his unmoving chest as you mourn the love you should’ve had for the rest of your life.

~

2024, Tokyo

You’ve never really had to deal with death before.

You suppose you’ve been lucky; many of your friends have already been through a death in the family, have already had to bury someone they cared about. But all that extra time with your grandfather couldn’t have prepared you for the gut punch it was when he did die.

You’re dressed in black, on your way to the funeral service with a folded up piece of paper in your pocket that you scribbled a tear-stained eulogy onto. You don’t want to read it in front of an entire church of people, but your grandma asked you to, and how could you say no?

You wonder if your grandpa really will be watching from heaven, or wherever he is. Maybe that’s just a bunch of sentimental bullshit.

You stand anxiously in line at your favorite coffee shop, the one you stop at every morning. Maybe you should’ve skipped this routine today – is it disrespectful to bring a travel mug to the lectern? – but you couldn’t help but want to remember the times you’ve taken your grandpa here and played cards while shooting the shit.

It feels like just one more goodbye.

You step up to the counter and order your usual, and the barista gives you a cheery greeting, because of course he doesn’t know that your life has come crashing down around you. You fight to offer that same kind smile you always do, hoping it doesn’t look as brittle as it feels.

You hand him your card, and after a moment, he frowns. “Uh, it said it declined.”

“Shit, sorry.” You take the card back and hurriedly dig through your wallet for another one. “Here.”

He tries that one, but glances at you awkwardly when that one declines, too. “Sorry, do you have, like, cash?”

Of course you don’t have cash; who the hell carries cash anymore? You’re not exactly sure what’s happening, but your best guess through your foggy, grief-addled mind is that you forgot to make your credit card payment in the haze of your grandfather’s death. You swear to yourself and take the card back, a little more aggressively than necessary. “Forget it,” you say, waving your hand. “I’ll just take a cup of tap water.”

Before the barista can void your order, someone from behind you speaks up. “I can cover it.”

You look up, lips parted because you can’t let some stranger pay for coffee, but then you see perhaps the most gorgeous man you’ve ever met, and you just blink, stunned into silence as he steps forward, handing over a thick platinum card for the barista to take.

He’s tall, exceptionally so, with long legs perfectly fitted into dress pants that accentuate just a tiny bit the muscles of his thighs. His dress shirt is also a perfect fit, and looks expensive, neatly tucked into those pants with the top button undone. And then your eyes trail up to his handsome face, because of course he’s not only fit but also achingly attractive, with long lashes and fluffy white hair.

You shake yourself free of your stupor and speak up, “Uh, you don’t have to do that.”

He turns to look at you, a devastating smirk curling his pink, glossy lips, and that’s when you meet his eyes, so pretty it nearly hurts. They’re crystal blue and so bright in the sunny cafe that they nearly shine. “It’s fine,” he says, and his voice is just as delicious as every other part of him, and you just want to melt into a puddle right there. “Merry Christmas, or whatever.”

Your throat closes up, and you can’t believe you’re about to cry over some stranger buying your coffee for you. You clench your hand into a fist, nails biting into your palm to try and distract you from the tears threatening to well up in your eyes. “Uh, thanks. I…I really appreciate it.”

And then he smiles, and Jesus Christ you have to pull yourself together because you’re about to either throw yourself at him or run out of the cafe screaming. “You’re welcome,” he says, and his voice is soft, and it stirs something inside you, like somehow your heart knows that voice and wants to come home to it.

You shake off the feeling. You’re just being emotional.

You wait for your coffee, and when another barista hands it to you, you turn and wave awkwardly to the stranger who paid for your drink, silently thanking him. He offers a small, amused smile and waves back, a casual gesture that should not send your heart fluttering as much as it does.

Then you walk out of the cafe and are reminded of where you’re headed, and you almost want to smack yourself for getting distracted on a day like today. A day where you’re putting someone in the ground.

You walk to the church, coffee in hand, and it’s the only thing keeping you warm in the chilly winter air. When you arrive, your family wraps you up in somber hugs, and you all line up for the remembrance of your grandfather to start.

The wake and visitation crawl by, and you can’t wait to get home and be able to mourn by yourself. But the time soon comes for you to make your way towards the lectern and read your speech, and you stand up, receiving a gentle pat on your shoulder from your grandma. You step up in front of the waiting crowd, and you hear quiet sniffles and soft weeping over the oppressive silence as they all wait for you to speak.

You pull your eulogy out of your pocket; the paper is crinkled. You unfold it with shaky hands, then glance at your family one more time before taking a deep breath and beginning to read.

“‘So it goes,’” you say, eyes trained reverently on the piece of paper in front of you, because if you look up at the crowd one more time you’re afraid you’ll burst into tears. “A quote from one of grandpa’s favorite authors, Kurt Vonnegut responds to every death in Slaughterhouse Five with the same words: So. It. Goes.

“At first it didn’t make sense to me. I just thought Vonnegut was being purposefully facetious, in a book where that wouldn’t be surprising. But through the book you soon meet the Tralfamadorians, whose outlook on life is very different from ours. You see, the Tralfamadorians believe that time isn’t linear, but that all time exists at once. So even if someone is dead at one moment, they are, in that same moment, alive in all others. 

“It’s a little confusing, I guess, and nonsensical. But I can’t help but take comfort in the quote, now that I’m missing grandpa so much. Grandpa might be gone in this moment, but in my memories he’s alive and well, just like he is in all of yours.

“So maybe all versions of us do exist, even if it’s not in the literal sense. We all exist in memories, in the marks we’ve made on each other’s lives.

“And maybe, because of that, other versions of us are all together, laughing and smiling. And maybe that’s something to be remembered in our times of loss. Because one day, that’ll be us, too.

“So it goes.”

thank you for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next

[ayamari-no-goshi]

AU scene inspired by a convo with a friend this week:

After the end of UtRH, Bruce never told anyone about the revelation of who was under that helm (for this, the attack on Titan’s Tower never happens) and instructs Alfred to keep quiet.

Years go by, and Red Hood becomes nothing but a sidenote. Bruce doesn’t know what became of Jason, and is half convinced the person he fought wasn’t really his son. He keeps an ear out for rumors, but there are more important things to focus on.

Insert some elaborate scheme from the Joker where Bruce and at least Dick and Tim are there.

Joker: we have quite the little reunion here. Too bad we’re missing one of the little birds. Say, whatever happened to him after our last meeting, Batsy?

Dick, pissed: did he mean that little to you that you forgot you killed him?

Joker, grinning: oh? Didn’t daddy bats tell you? The little bird who’s darling mother sold him to me to save her own skin somehow crawled out of his grave and came back donning my old moniker. It was really something, let me tell you. Though I still can’t get over the leather. It’s not a choice I’d ever make

Dick, now processing the info about Jason’s mother, him coming back to life, and remembering a certain crime lord who appeared and disappeared mysteriously: if you forgot, the last time you mentioned him, I nearly killed you. I don’t appreciate the lies

Joker: no lies this time, boy blunder. Tell him Batsy

Bruce, after feeling Dick’s death glare: the crime lord, Red Hood, did claim to be the second Robin

Joker, tutting: now Batman, you know as well as I do that was your kid. And for all his posturing, that plan of his was an elaborate cry for help.

Tim, glancing between the Joker, Bruce, and Dick: what plan?

Bruce: he was going to kill the Joker, and I stopped him

Joker, cackling; it was so much more than that. He gave you three choices: 1) kill me 2) stop him from killing me or 3) walk away and let him kill me. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure your little bird wanted to know if you valued me over him. I mean, you did leave him alone to chase after a truck you believed I was in the day he died, right?

Dick, to Bruce: you said you stopped him…?

Before Bruce can say anything, the Joker interrupts: oh! You should have seen it! He threw one of his Batarangs and sliced open his own kid’s neck! And then he just left him there to die as the entire building came down. But me? Ol’ Batsy made sure we can continue our dance. I can’t imagine how the kid felt knowing his father figure chose me over him for a second time

And this would be about when the Joker would be punched in the face.

[jack-merridoomed]

fireworks

Simon has one last hallucination.

secret santa for @sunfiltersthroughwillowleaves i hope you enjoy (sorry for this being the literal latest ever) merry lotfmas 💗💗

It really hurt. He couldn’t specify which body part was in most pain. He couldn’t tell you whether this was a dream or not, fading in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t like it mattered. The excruciating pain wouldn’t go away no matter what. 

Simon was going to die. The realization hit and a choke up sob escaped him, sending another wave of pain through his body. He couldn’t recall exactly when the other boys had disappeared. He remembered being attacked, the stabs of pain until the world went black, he thought it would be over then but his eyes kept opening again and again. The tide was coming in, and he could hear waves crashing behind him in the night. 

He wished they would come back, he clung to the small possibility that Ralph- or any of them would realize he was still breathing and come back. 

“...Simon?” 

The wounds in his neck would not allow him to turn his head but his eyes darted to the sound of the voice. Just out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a figure creep closer. Even in the dark, he could recognize the boys fair hair a mile away. 

Ralph. You came back for me? 

He didn’t speak, the only thing he could manage was a gasp that made him uncomfortably aware of the iron taste in his mouth. 

“Simon, what happened to you?” It sounded like he was minorly inconvenienced. Ralph knelt down next to Simon with a huff. He patted a spotch of blood in the sand and sifted it through his fingers. 

They attacked me. They thought I was the beast. 

Ralph wiped away a tear on Simon’s cheek (he didn’t realize he had been crying).

“I mean, can you blame them? Better safe than sorry.” He flicked away another one of Simon’s tears. 

“I wish I could patch you up. But we don’t have any bandages.” Ralph leaned in closer and Simon could not see a single spot of blood on him. Still perfect, spotless even next to him. How strange, he had been at the feast hadn’t he? He should be covered in blood, Simon’s blood. He didn’t want to believe it, but out of the plethora of voices screaming at him, he could always pick out Ralphs. 

Kill the beast!  Cut his throat! Spill his blood! Do him in! 

“Would you stop?” The same voice. 

Ralph sighed and layed down next to Simon, whose bleeding out had not stopped, “If you don’t want me to be here, just say it.” 

Simon was getting confused. Why was he being mean? He was at the feast, and he’d argue that was a pretty fair thing to be mad about. 

“I was not at the feast! Look, I’m clean! And I’m not idiotic enough to go to the feast. God, Simon, how could you think that?” 

Huh? 

“Anyways, don’t you just love the ocean sounds?” He rolled around in the sand, an action Simon was unable to copy due to the several wounds in his body. 

But you were at the feast. I heard you. 

“I wish it was morning, I could listen to the birds sing, and no littluns would be awake yet. I could just sit and watch the ocean, and wait for a boat to come.” 

You hunted the beast. You attacked me. 

“You know, i used to do it every morning with dad, we lived near a lake, so we would go and watch the sunrise and I was still a kid so I’d fall asleep watching, and he’d carry me back. Until he left again.” 

Ralph, please. There’s still time. Let the others know there is no beast, we’re the beast. There’s a dead man on the-

“Ha! 'We're the beast!' Are you even listening to me? Or are you just going to continue on your batty rambles?” He sat back up and peered down at Simon. “I’m trying to share a heartfelt story with you.” 

He put the back of his hand to his forehead in mock distress, “Alas, it’s not your fault is it? It’s never poor, crazy, Simon’s fault, is it?” 

He knew Ralph mocked him. He heard the whispers to Piggy about how he would wander to god knows where doing god knows what. But this felt unusually cruel. He felt tears prickle at his eyes again, but not because of the physical pain this time. 

Stop.

Ralph turned to lay on his stomach and started to toy with the sand. “I feel like I’m the one carrying this conversation. Would you please say something?” 

I’m dying. 

“When I die, I want a tragic funeral with fireworks at the end. Everyone’s going to cry and then they’re all going to be in awe.” 

Fireworks? 

“You know, the blasts of sparkle in the sky they put out during bonfire night?”

I know what fireworks are. Why would you want to see them at your funeral? 

Ralph grinned, “Why not? Just to add some charm to such a horrible event.” 

He had always loved that. Charm even in the worst possible situation. A firework in a funeral. A Ralph stranded on an island. 

“Do you get it now?” 

Yeah. I get it. 

“It’s pretty sad. You’re not going to get a funeral.” Ralph sighed. “I guess I can light some fireworks for you if you want.” 

What?

“Well, if you insist.” Ralph pushed up from the sand, and brushed himself off. 

His heart hadn’t been stabbed, yet it ached as Ralph left. Couldn’t he stay? Just a moment longer? Just until the pain was over?

Where are you going? 

“Getting you fireworks.” he turned and started towards the woods. Simon tried to get up, tried to reach for him, but his body wouldn’t allow him. He uselessely scrapped the sand, only making it more bloody.

Wait. Please don’t go. I don’t want to die alone. 

Ralph turned back to him, Simon could make out a warm smile on his face. 

“Quit being batty! You’re not going to die!” 

With a final chuckle, he turned and walked away, a slight eagerness in his step to go get the fireworks.

He prayed to see them. At some point during the night, for the reassurance that Ralph left him for something. That he wasn’t worth the empty night sky. His blood had been seeping out for hours, almost as if God refused to let him die. 

Ralph had promised fireworks. But there would be none.

A shadow appeared, and for a moment, Simon thought he might see the boy, the one he had trusted, the one who had led them, even if Simon had never fully understood him. But as the shadow drew closer, Simon’s heart sank. It wasn’t Ralph. It never was.

The figure crouched beside him, laughing softly as it touched his bloodied cheek. Simon’s mouth was dry, but he tried to speak, tried to say something—anything—that would make it stop, that would make it different. But the words died in his throat.

“Don’t worry,” the figure said, its voice cold and familiar, “you’re not alone. We’re all here.”

Simon’s eyes fluttered, and for a moment, he thought he saw the ocean, the moon, the sky—something beautiful.

But then it was gone. The figure rose, turned, and left him there. Alone.

The waves continued to crash, but Simon couldn’t hear them anymore.

@lotf-secret-santa (sorry for the tag so late !)

[dhmis-autism]

"anyways id survive in that house" sounds like smth duck would say before dying. again.

NO BUT I COULD DO IT!!!!

not physically of course but mentally? i'm SOLID. i'm autistic, i hate change, i already have memory issues, there's no way that house would get the better of me i'd win for SURE

[yanderespamton78]

the current state of the arg

sorry guys the art isnt arting D:

(btw if youre confused on why i drew turnip like that i was referencing the picrew he did ages ago bc idk it looked fun to draw anddd i dont like taking reference off real life images)

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[tenwhiteandalusians]

and then no one said anything about the fact that if i watched ONE MORE episode tenax pulls a "i'm not angry i'm just disappointed i'm hurt" about scorpus signing with the white faction.

[vampmilf]

barely an hour at work and already on the brink of another breakdown i need to quit this fucking job and/or perhaps kill myself

[attractthecrows]

retconning stroud out of the deep roads so i can shove laure amell and the hawke siblings and varric and anders all into the same little camp. they would all have such a bad time