#(if you squint at the end)
Note
omg omg number 1 with solangelo i think i'd cry actually <3
I'm worth nothing. To me, you're worth everything
finally filling out this request, guys i promise i'm not dead, still thinking of new story ideas every day
Nico couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fucking breathe, and no one was coming. Will was working in the infirmary, Reyna and Hazel were at Camp Jupiter and no one else actually gave a shit about him on their own. In a group, he can’t be ignored without everyone else having a guilty conscience, but alone? Alone almost no one would seek him out. Jason might, and if he did Pery would tag along, but Jason was also at Camp Jupiter, so Nico was left to his own devices.
He could go scope out his boyfriend, knowing Will would quickly drop his paperwork in order to comfort Nico. But that felt like a journey away, and a very long journey at that. Will felt unreachable, both physically and mentally. Walking across the camp in this state would surely be a horrible idea. He knows that if he stands up all that will happen is his vision will black out into small dots, and he’ll have to fight for a few seconds to stay on his feet.
Then he’ll have to actually walk across campus. Not to mention all the prying eyes and uncomfortable looks he’d get from the other campers.
Him and Will and been fighting recently as well. Nico’s inability to communicate has them struggling to understand each other. Will’s constantly been annoyed with him for not speaking up, and Nico’s been pissed that Will needs to talk about every single little thing. Funny how that works out, seeing what predicament Nico was in now.
So no, going to Will was not an option.
He was sitting on the ground in his cabin, leaning against his own bed. He had been pacing before that, stuck in his own head and not knowing how to dispel his thrumming energy that felt like ants under his skin. He thought about going to the training grounds, ripping dummies to shreds with strike after strike. Summoning skeletons and listening to their bones rattle and bodies fall as he sliced through them.
But he knew his movements would be too sloppy. His steps too shaky and hands uncoordinated. He would’ve been too obvious. You can’t be the Ghost King and struggle in activities that you usually would excel in. He has far too much pride for that.
His breath keeps getting quicker and he can’t seem to suck enough air in to level it out. He’s getting dizzier by the second, and his brain is tellinghim how nice it would be to just let the black dots clouding his vision to take over. To escape feeling like he was going to die and to insead choose to close his eyes.
He has never been afraid of dying. Death was just another thing, and with who his father was, it was never scary. If he died, he doubted anyone would care, he wouldn’t even care. Then maybe, he could find Bianca again, in her new life. He could look after her like how she used to do for him.
Nico felt like he was dying, the oxygen in his lungs getting fainter and fainter, and with the fatigue taking over he finally decided to lay down and rest.
—
He doesn’t wake up until that night. It’s 6, nearing 7, and there’s a pounding in his head. His body feels weak as he tries to stretch out, like his limbs are lagging behind his brain and what he’s telling them to do. He feels heavy, like he has sacks of sand tyng him down on every joint.
It takes him second to realize what woke him up in the first place. Someone’s insistently banging on the door of his cabin.
“Nico.” Will tiredly calls out. He sounds annoyed, Nico thinks. He doesn’t have the energy to respond though. He doesn’t really want to anyways. The knocking doesn’t stop.
“Nico!” Will’s voice takes a harsher tone. “I know you’re in there. It’s dinner, let’s go.” Nico still doesn’t move. He thinks about it, comtentplating if it’s worth it or not. He wonders if Will would go away if he doesn’t get a response. Usually he would be breaking the door down by now, but with how they’re been fighting he doubts he’d stay.
He’s right. With one last exhausted yelled, an annoyed sigh, and grumbling that Nico doesn’t even want to try and make out, the knocking stops and his footsteps leave.
He’s alone again. He feels kind of hurt that Will left, then again it’s his fault. And he’s too numb to feel anything right now. He’s felt like that for a while, honestly.
—
The next time he wakes up the sun is rising. His back and neck ache from sleepng in an uncomfortable position for so long, and his right arm is asleep. He hears bells chiming in the pavilion, signaling breakfast is starting.
He doesn’t realize how hungry he is until the thought of food crosses his mind. He groans as he pulls himself into a sitting position. He stretches until his bones pop and he stands up. He pulls on his aviator coat, and some black jeans he finds on the ground. They’re probably filthy, but he doesn’t really have all that much in him to care.
He stumbles over to the pavilion. Not many campers are there at opening time, most making t for just the last half hour. It really only open this early for campers like the apollo cabin who have shifts working in the infirmary. Speaking of the apollo cabin, Nico fails to notice a certain blonde also headingn towards the pavilion.
“Nico!” Will calls, he turns to meet Nico halfway to the pavilion. Nico stops, looking up to meet Will’s eyes. Its an uncomfortable moment of silence where neitherof them say anything. What is there to say? They’re both confused about what’s going on, and who’s mad at who.
How do you start a conversation when you don’t know where you stand with the person you want to talk to?
“Sit with me?” Nico asks. His voice a bit scratchy from how dry his throat was. When was the last time he drank water?
Will has a small smile toying at his lips. “Of course.”
The rest of the walk is awkward. Will keeps reaching out to take Nico’s hand but retracting at the last moment. Nico pretends not to see it. He doesn’t know if he would want to take it. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling.
They sit in stiff silence. There’s a slight rustle from the other campers, but no one is really awake at this hour to be up for a real conversation. They picked up their food on the way in, Nico choosing some bread and cheese, and Will having made himself a fruit cup.
“So…” Nico starts.
“So…” Will mimics. “What’s up?” Nico shifts a little in his seat.
“The sky. The sky is definitely up at the moment.” He says dryly. He keeps his eyes down, staring at his torn apart waffle.
“Nico.”
“Mm?” His gaze is still down.
“What are we doing?” Will sighs.
“What do you mean Willie? We’re having breakfast, and you’re eating something entirely too healthy and colorful for this early in the morning. As per usual.” He does look up this time, locking eyes with the blue ones right next to him.
“That’s not what I meant.” He sighs again. “What are we doing?” He gestures vaguely between the two of them, giving Nico a pointed look. Nico raises an eyebrow back at him. “Why aren’t we talking, why do I barely see you, why do you look worse everytime you come out of that damn cabin?”
Some heads turn towards them, and Nico hardens his glare at everyone around them. Smartly, they all turn around in their seats.
“I don’t know, Will,” he sighs. His hands rub at his eyes tiredly. Their breakfast is long forgotten in return of them staring at each other instead.
“I don’t know either, but I want to fix it. But sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it if you won’t even fucking try.” Will snapped. His hands rubbed at his temples. Nico sat stunned.
“What do you mean I don’t fucking try?” He seethed.
“I mean that I’m the only one who puts any gods damn effort into this relationship.’
“I try Will. I try so fucking hard. I try so hard to make sure you don’t leave, to not scare you away, to keep you from leaving just like everyone else. I’m trying to be who you want me to be just, it’s so hard sometimes.” Nico’s breath hitches, and suddenly his eyes feel like they’re burning. Despite his glaring, more people are entering the hall and more eyes are on the pair. “I’m not doing this here.” He grumbles, and storms out of the hall. Will has nothing left to do but follow.
They end up back in Nico’s cabin. Nico settles himself on the head of the bed, holding his pillow in his lap. Will takes that as his que to sit at the foot of the bed facing him.
“Okay, so you try.” Will starts. Nico glares at him.
“Yes, I fucking try.”
“But you try to be who you think I want you to be?” Will’s surprisingly calm, his voice leveled out and speaking monotone. The way he would when reading injuries of a patient off a clipboard. Detatched.
“Obviously.” Nico deadpans.
“Don’t.” And the one word shatters Nico’s entire reality.
“What?”
“Don’t do that.” Will says it like it’s simple. “Nico. I’m dating you. I’m dating who you are. I’m dating the guy I meant in those three days in the infirmary. Not whoever you’re trying to make yourself.”
Nico didn’t know what to say. That’s all it took? Be himself? Surely not, not if his shitty communication and lack of words at the worst times were anything to go by. Not when that’s what pisses off Will the most and makes him think he doesn’t care.
“I don’t understand.” Is what he ends up saying. Will sighs, shuffling closer on the bed. Not quite touching, but if Nico reached out he could grab Will’s hand.
“Let me spell it out for you,” he says, and he does grab Nico’s hand this time. “I. Like. You.” I enuanciates each word. “You, Nico di Angelo. You and you’re relentless sarcasm, dry humor, and absurd amount of black clothing. You and your stupid self sacrifical tendicies, the way you’ll always do what you believe is right, the insane amount of McDonalds you eat even though it’s extremely unhealthy.” Will smiles a bit. “I like you for you. The you I know.”
“But you don’t know know me, Will. You don’t know my entire past, or all my problems, or all my secrets. You don’t get it.”
“What don’t I get?” Will tilts his head to side in question, reminding Nico of a golden retriever. Gods, Nico wants to kiss him.
“I’m worthless, Will. The real me? I’m worth nothing.”
“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.” Will’s hand leaves Nico’s, moving up to cup his face instead. Nico leans into it. “Not to me. To me you’re worth everything, Neeks.”
And Nico melts, he’s never been anyone’s world before. Not since Bianca. Or his mama. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this cared for.
“Let me get to know you, Nico. All of you. Everything about you that you think is important, all the little things. I want to know about your past, your present, what you plan to do in the future. I want to know your favorite book and your favorite color. I want to know what brand of hoodies you like and what foods are your favorite. I want to tell you that I love you, and for you to believe me because you aren’t hiding anything. I want to show you that you aren’t worthless Nico. You are so much more than worthless.”
And Nico spills. He tells him everything. Everything about his sister and his mom. What it was like in the Lotus. He tells him about the first time he summoned the dead and met Hazel. He tells him his favorite parts about training, the tattoos he wants in the future. He tells him that the first time he laid eyes on Will he thought of the sun dancing along the horizon. The beautiful yellows and oranges and reds painting on the sky. He tells him how he couldn’t look away from those eyes, the ones that made him feel whole. How one look at Will made his life seem so much brighter.
Nico talks and Will laughs and cries and feels with him. And Nico has never felt so special and loved. He’s never felt so important. Being treated as a person and not a tool or a pawn or a freak.
He feels whole.
“Thank you.” He whispers. And Will shushes him.
“Don’t thank me, Sunshine. I love you.”
And Nico believes him.
#solangelo#toa#pjo#hoo#will solace#nico di angelo#hurt/comfort#angst#fluff#if you squint at the end#nico sucks at communicating#i do too#which is fitting because my name is also nico#nico writes#peanut writes#request
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Untitled plotbunny Where Morax Finds a Small Angry Child
(twitter thread )
During the archon war Morax is wandering through the wreckage of a village he didn’t get to save. He was looking for any sign of survivors. He finds a little boy playing with a ball amongst the wreckage.
He seemed so carefree that it was like he didn’t even notice the angry god that ravaged his home. He asks the boy if he’s alright and the boy looks at him as if he was daft.
He continues playing with his ball, so Morax decides to change tracks and ask his name. “I don’t know. I guess people just call me boy.” He shrugs.
Morax asks about his parents. “Gone I guess.” He shrugs again, “I don’t need them anyway. I’m gonna go to the harbor one day and become rich without them!”
Morax asks him if he would like to help him tend to the dead. It’s a lot of work for two hands after all. (A lie. He could easily do this himself.) the boy begrudgingly agrees.
When the dead have been cremated and prayers said (the boy said his prayers like he was choking.) Morax tells him that he’s going to the harbor next. Would he like to accompany him?
The boy tried to hide his enthusiasm with a “sure. It’s boring here anyway.”
Morax doesn’t think an obliterated village would be called boring but doesn’t say anything.
The trip to Liyue Harbor is perhaps one of the best Morax could remember since Guizhong passed.
The boy makes everything lively.
The boy tells him stories about the monsters he “fought”. And about the other village children. He teaches him a song about pinkie promises and how you get thrown on ice for breaking one. And at one point even admitted that he liked the bamboo soup even if it didn’t have fish.
It made Morax wish that they would never get there. But eventually they reached the bright city so Morax decided before saying goodbye they should see the town for a day.
But eventually it was time for little boys to be in bed. And Morax says so. But the boy shakes his head .
“If I go to sleep, I won’t wake up, will I?” He says softly. Morax could only give a soft “yes.” The boy didn’t look at him.
“How long have you known?”
“Since we tended to the dead in your village. …Your red hair is distinct.”
“So I go to bed and disappear? There’s not even anyone to remember me.”
“I will remember.”
“Aias.”
“Mmm?”
“It’s my name. Can you remember it?”
“Until the mountains erode to dust.”
The boy, Aias hugs him tightly. “Goodnight Morax. I will see you on the other side.” “Goodnight Aias.” He nestles into the luxurious bed. “Hmmm. Never slept in a bed before. Feels… nice.” Aias closes his eyes. And Morax closed his against crystalline tears.
And when the morning light lit up the luxurious room, it was like no one occupied the room at all. And Morax was walking below, pocketing an old weathered ball. He sang a little song about pinkie promises and ice.
It would not be for a couple thousand years that he saw that shade of red hair again. On a visiting diplomat who he invited into his home. Childe sees an ancient ball in a place of honor and says, he thinks he stole a ball like that once, but can’t remember.
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Pride month Idea #1
AU where Sarada figures out that her parents are gay before her parents know or come into terms with it.
Ideas:
Sarada figured out she was bisexual at 16. Curiously, she started to go online and research more about the LGBTQIA community and learn everything about it.
The more she learned more about it, the more she realized that her parents display the traits or examples of someone being closeted, or someone who might be a lavender marriage, and the more things started to make more sense to her now compared to when she was 11-13 with her parents.
It wasn't until she was 21, when it was hinted to her by her father. It was a rainy afternoon in April, her and her father were in the house watching TV. Sakura was working at the hospital for the whole afternoon.
After a 3-4 hour long talk, Sasuke admitted to her that he thinks that he only got with Sakura because he wanted to rebuild his clan and she was the only one who was willing to bear his children.
Sarada asked "but did you want to because you loved her?" sasuke hesitated for a few seconds
Sasuke: "I'm not sure." He answered "I wanted to rebuild my clan and fix the discrimination that occurred in my clan..... but I think in the back of my head, I kinda thought I would do it the IVF (in vitro fertilization) way because I thought no woman would ever want an 18/19 year old post war criminal......."
Sasuke: "I sometimes think I might have said yes to Sakura because she's had put up a lot with me and wanted me to just be well mentally after what I went through. So I decided to give her a chance. I thought the feelings would learn to grow into love as well."
Sarada: "And has that feeling changed? Has it changed into love? Could you see yourself having more children with her?"
"I mean, I could have more children and--"
"through intercourse? and even if you didn't want to have kids, could you see yourself doing that just because you want to and like to? I know I'm your daughter and this is weird to talk about, but I need to theorize something, papa."
Sasuke knows he's at the point that he can either lie and just deal with it later. He can just say yes and end the conversation, but there's a chance she'll question him even more. He already admitted to her that he thought he would have kids via IVF. But there is a chance she'll understand and leave it alone for another day and they can act like this never happened, but....
"papa, you've been silent for almost 2 mins."
"*sighs*......I don't think I want to that way. I dont think I like her in that way. I mean, it's not that I don't like your mother, I mean I think she's very smart, resourceful, was a good mother to you. I care about her very much..... but the thought of wanting to do the things my friends and their spouses, with your mother...I mean, I did do it didn't I??..."
"Yes, but, do realize that just having me isn't going to be enough to remake your clan right?"
"I know that, it's just that....I mean me and your mother have thought about having more children, I mean, I just had figure out a way to be excited to be able to....I don't think I am comfortable discussing this with you-- "
"I understand"
[Silence for 7 min watching TV]
"I-, I think my attraction to women is kinda different than others, I mean, I lost my whole clan at like 8 and wanted to kill who was responsible for the next 10 years, and then had to make amends for another 4 years, who in the world has the time to pay attention to women in any romantic or sexual way. it never hit me for the first 21 years of my life until your mother was willing to-...I mean, I-... forget it."
Sarada: "Okay."
[Silence for 4 mins]
inner sasuke: *sighs*, the silence has been too long, and I said too much to her. I mean, have an out bi daughter for the past 5 years
"Certain memories I've had about my clan....I remember having memories of other relatives, and I remember them having views and that "men and women must be the ones to have children. " talks about an uncle and how I wasn't allowed to be near or talk to him because I might become feminine or emasculated."
"I mean, if I wanted to restore my clan, I had to find someone and just get maybe like 8-10 of them and feel like I finally accomplished it and did what I was intended to do. I mean, I couldn't let those sudden thoughts, I had about other men, especially Naruto, get in the way of any of--"
inner sasuke: fuck--
*sighs* "I really should've just kept my mouth shut this whole time."
[silence for another 5 mins]
"father, tell me as much as you can, if you feel comfortable, about how you feel about your best friend, the seventh. you're in a safe and open space. no judgements, I just need to understand something."
[Silence for another 1.5 mins]
Sasuke: "*lightly blushes* well....."
-----------------------------------------------------
that's all I had for now. For Sakura's part, it would probably be about her discovered compulsory heterosexuality and an InoSaku or SakuKarin centric post. Sarada would do this part when it's been either a year after sasuke's admitted it (because he's under the impression that it would crush Sakura if she found out about this) or something.
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i found out what pissed her off so much guys
#hello world#i'm back#phew#aquateen reference in the end there#all jokes though dont take it to heart#my art#tadc#the amazing digital circus#tadc fanart#digital circus#tadc jax#tadc ragatha#tadc kinger#bunnydoll#jax x ragatha#if you squint i guess#kinger#jax#ragatha#cw suggestive#suggestive#just to be safe
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Reluctant War AU Part 2
Part One
...I ended up writing more for that Reluctant War AU...Like. Wrote this before work and started on part 3 with plans for part 4 more.
this was supposed to just be a brain worm what happened
(also thank you @catastrophic-crow for the AU name <3 <3 <3 Also, also: welcome to the cult of Ancient of the Speedforce Elle! Membership includes nonsense, shenanigans and chaos haha)
-
Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.
Every corner haunted by death and tragedy.
Every street stained red at least once in its many years.
Every dark shadow holding the faint shadows and shades of the dead.
Gotham was, before all else, a grave yard.
Jason had known that his entire life. Every kid born and raised in the Alley did. Death came fast to Gotham’s streets. Especially for those the rest of the city turned its back on. He did his best to lighten the reaper’s load when it came to the people that called Crime Alley home. Well, mostly. He’d certainly added names to old Death’s list before, when the occasion called.
When the armies of the dead descended upon Gotham, the only surprise Jason could feel was that those white wearing pieces of shit had dared to try and hunker down in his city.
It was a sentiment shared by most of Gotham’s fine citizens. By the city itself - herself? Something to ask later, if there was a later - even if the impossible, living shadow that rose up out of Gotham’s many dark corners was anything to go by. He knew, almost instinctively, that the entity - skin of cracked pavement, mouth a bridge suspended too wide across the face, eyes of CCTV camera lenses and body built brick by grimy, bloody brick of the sharp skyline - was Gotham. Not a ghost but something bigger, greater. Something awfully, terribly alive in all its horrible, noble glory. His city, manifest in the shape almost human beneath the green glow of the torn apart sky above.
Phantom’s armies arrived without warning as they had everywhere else, and their enemies poured out in unforgivably unmarred white suits to meet them. Horrible and garish against the Gotham streets. How they’d ever managed to slink by unnoticed while being so blatantly, clearly not of Gotham Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever know.
If either side thought this would be like the battles they fought before, they were mistaken.
Gotham was a place for Ghosts.
A place the dead piled up, lingered well beyond their deaths. A place where the rules were different from everywhere else in the world. Where crime was rampant and chaos reigned but at the end of the day people said their thanks that they were born to this hellhole and not so cursed to call anywhere else in the world home.
The dead came to fight
And Gotham, a thing so alive it was sickening to look upon, rose up to fight right along side them all.
The agents were ready and prepared for the incursion of the dead. It’d been two weeks since the first volley of attacks. Two weeks spent shoring up defenses and ramping up weapons and strategizing ways to kill what was already dead. They were, as best as they were able to be considering how endless the armies that came for them, prepared.
They weren’t prepared for Gotham.
Weren’t prepared for the city itself to rise up and take spectral, eldritch shape. Jagged building spire and shattered glass teeth bared in a snarl that spanned miles. Screaming rage in a voice made of gunfire and the concussive boom of explosions and the shrieks of a furious crowd.
Weren’t prepared for its people to ignore the gentle ushering of the dead trying to push them away to safety and instead press forward to fight shoulder to shoulder with the ghostly armies.
Weren’t prepared to have brick and bottles and trash and debris rain down upon them from the jeering living. Weren’t prepared for dirty faced children with hard eyes to light up rags stuffed into chipped beer bottles filled with gas and kerosene and throw them with more speed an accuracy than any professional baseball player. Weren’t ready for Gotham’s motley crew of terrifying Rogues to band together with the citizens they so often accosted and worried and bring down wave after wave of chaos and Goons.
Weren’t prepared for Red Hood to swap out his rubber bullets for the real deal and start mowing the fuckers in white down, his own crew at his back, the rest of the Outlaws on their way.
The Justice League was trying to find a peaceful resolution. Trying to play go between to the US Government and the infinite dead. Too wound up in US politics to side with the dead outright, too disgusted by what the American government had done to ever want to stand with them. All it had gotten them was spun wheels and confusion and the slow creeping realization that the time to try and play negotiators had well passed.
Red Hood wasn’t a member of the Justice League.
He had no obligation to try and find a way to talk things out.
What he had was a grave he’d dug his way out of, enough ammunition to arm a sizable country, and a burning need to make things right.
Gotham had always been a place for ghosts, and Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.
Haunting the streets he’d survived as a child, the city he protected as Robin, the family he’d loved and lost a thousand and one times before and after his death.
The sky cracked open above his home, and it was not an invading army that came rushing out but a native one. Friends, neighbors, strangers on the street you caught from the corner of your eye. The people of Gotham knew their own and fought for them. Only Gotham was allowed to fucked with Gotham and they’d been screwed over enough by the government themselves to know what side they were on.
He lifted his guns and fired, teeth bared in vicious satisfaction beneath his helmet as white was splattered bright red.
A hissing electric whine of a weapon, a flash of green from the edge of his vision.
“Down!”
He was thrown bodily to the cracked and ruined street beneath him, the body shielding him warm and living as one of the agent’s weapon fired a blast of energy right where he’d been a second before. He’d seen that same weapon reduce one of the raging dead to dripping green and screams of agony the dead should not be capable of making.
Before he could shove himself up and respond in kind, the body above him was in motion and the air above him cracking with the snapping-popping-roar of a gun of a much higher power than even what he had. The fucker in white that had shot at him dissolved into a mist of red viscera, body seizing and shuttering in the briefest moment it had before it was obliterated completely.
“Watch yourself.” He looked up - and up - and wondered at the lovely, fierce face he found staring down at him. “Even without shooting at them you’re Liminal enough to trip their sensors.”
She was tall enough to be an amazon, six inches in height on him at least. Body strong beneath the pitch black armor she work - as deep and dark as the depths of space, etched with starlight, a familiar crest upon her chest in the dizzying burst of a supernova - she held herself with confidence. Strands of hair the color of a warning sunrise escaped out from beneath the helm she wore, bright against her pale skin, warming the glass-sharp teal eyes that had pinned him in place.
The hand not holding the gun she’d just used to delete the asshole that had just tried to shoot him - a strange, impossible thing that made him taste lightning at the back of his throat to look at it - stretched out to help him up.
He accepted it.
Something pulsed to life in his chest. A piece forgotten where it’d been left behind, half buried in grave dirt and broken pieces of a casket he’d clawed his way out of. It burned like a hot coal in his chest, froze him with the same aching cold of a blizzard, crackled his nerves to life with lightning even as his brain popped and fried with the same sizzling energy.
On his feet, hair on end and body and Core pulsing with the need to fight, to rend and tear and scream for all done to him, his people, his home, he met the eyes of the woman before him. Her cool gaze softened, just a moment, just a second as she seemed to realize what had happened. Her hand, lighter than the armor she wore should allow it to be, tightened on his just a moment, mouth tilting from determined frown to soft understanding.
Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.
Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.
---
Part Three
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dpxdc#jason todd#jazz fenton#GIW#reluctant war au#ghost zone goes to war#ghost king danny#liminal jazz#halfa jason#sorta kinda#he's waking up alright#anger management#if you squint but if i do end up writing even more of this it'll be a thing lol#spirit of gotham#gotham spirit#eldritch gotham spirit#tw death#tw violence#implied gore#gothamites take one look at the GIW and are like: yup time to fuck some bitches up#the entire city has been itching for a chance to fight the US government after all the times they got cut off after a disaster#ghosts are trying to evacuate them and they're like: Nah we're good#Gotham Girl Scouts get badges for making molotov cocktails and knife fighting you can't convince me otherwise#Outlaws are gonna show up to find Jason has somehow collected yet another tall red head that can kick his ass#They're convinced he has the world's most specific meta ability with how many he ends up running around with#Bruce in mid convo w/ Waller trying not to kill her suddenly has his *one of my kids is Up To Something* senses go off
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expectations vs reality
#engiespy#sniperspy#if you squint XD#tf2 engineer#tf2 spy#tf2 sniper#tf2#team fortress#team fortres 2#crowtent#i feel like both engie and sniper would wear hats (or a helmet in engie's case) with high end suits#also their glasses
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"Dost thou see a book before thee? Remove thy shift. I will guide thy hand."
#I spent so much time on it and I end up not wanting to post it but also Black Philip Narinder propaganda#narilamb if you SQUINT I guess#cotl#cotl fanart#cotl lamb#cotl narinder#the one who waits#cult of the lamb
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Posting in this blog after an eternity because I feel like I'm going insane here and my friends are asleep so I need to dump my brainstorm SOMEWHERE (SPOILERS FOR ARLECCHINO'S BACKSTORY/SHORT ANIMATION!!)
The TLDR is basically I think that the whole story with Arlecchino and Clervie is foreshadowing for whatever is about to happen with Lyney and Lynette
I think the parallels between Lyney and Arle don't need to be too explained for the most part. Pyro Visions, Arle wants him to be the next "king" while he doesn't seem to be too into that idea just like her younger self didn't want it, both are associated with Rainbow Roses (they both use them as ascension materials)
Plus, I'd argue they look kinda similar here. I'm not sure exactly what is that makes the resemblance, maybe a bit of the hair, bowtie and shorts and you could say it's something she has with the others too (her kid design resembles Freminet, current one Lynette) but I thought it was good to mention anyways
Meanwhile, Lynette and Clervie are the two closest companions to their respective pair
Lynette's has Lumidouce Bells as an ascension material. Clervie is very clearly represented with the same flower (if her necklace wasn't enough, there's this)
Plus, a bit of a smaller connection, but they both have clear sweet tooths
(Lyney saying "we talked about this" implies this is a frequent event. The animation showing Clervie with cake twice while it only had 7 minutes to tell the whole story has a similar effect)
So, if Lyney is a parallel to Arle while Lynette is a parallel to Clervie, where does this leave us?
Well... Not exactly in a good spot-
To be fair, I don't think Genshin would actually kill a playable character (or at least, so I hope), but it's very possible Lynette gets really hurt, either directly by Lyney or by being close to him
Arlecchino swore to be nothing like her mother, but in the end, the way she's acting towards Lyney by wanting to make him the next king may be very similar to it
Once upon a story quest, Lyney said similar words to a woman who claimed he'd end up all alone. I can only pray that the writers will have mercy at my soul and that they wouldn't go that low with a playable character
If I were to make a mildly self indulgent guess, as the Freminet main I am, I'd say that he may be the key that's going to make things turn out different for the twins. His presence is the biggest difference between the twins vs Arle and Clervie, who seemed to have no one else that was even mildly close to them. From the 4.6 trailer we know that he's the one that has been hiding stuff and we do see him blocking out Arle's attack, so I don't think it's a stretch to say he'll have a really important role in this whole thing
So yeah! If you read all my rambling, thanks I guess, hope you enjoyed it. In the end, all I can hope is that the Fontaine siblings all turn out fine for the sake of my own mental wellness because God knows these 3 stay all day spinning in my head as if it was a microwave
Also, for the record: No, I don't have a clue about what the hell is going on with Freminet apparently finding "Clervie" (ghost?? Illusion??) and hiding her from Arle. Until this short my best shot was that she was some sort of mermaid creature, but that idea is out the window so it could be anything really
#I don't know how right I am with any of this#I may end up deleting this after I sleep#i just think too much about characters I like#I know a lot of people interpret Arle and Clervie as something completely different but I just cant ignore the parallels in my mind#all i hope is that I'm not alone in going insane connecting dots that may not even exist lol#genshin impact#genshin#arlecchino#the knave#clervie#peruere#lyney#lynette#freminet if you squint#rambling#theory#genshin theory#my posts
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Been brainrotting lately and now I present to you what I think is an underused story beat for Yuu. What if “Yuu” isn’t even the prefect’s real name?
Considering that Yuu’s first experience in Twisted Wonderland is waking up in a coffin, wandering around an obviously foreign place, and being questioned by a suspicious man in a crow mask surrounded by people in black hooded robes… I just think most people would not give their real name in such a sketchy situation.
Fast forward to when Yuu is more comfortable with the cast and there is both comedy and angst potential here. On one hand, the reactions to the deception could be pretty funny. (Cue a “woe is me” from Crowley. Of course he can’t find a way home for you when he doesn’t have your real name!) On the other, this could be a great way of exploring the prefect having a crisis. Yuu already lost so much in being taken to Twisted Wonderland, and now in a way even the prefect’s name has been taken.
What do you think?
waking up in a coffin, wandering around an obviously foreign place, and being questioned by a suspicious man in a crow mask surrounded by people in black hooded robes…
Annon, annon, annon, when you put it like that it sounds like Yuu woke up in the middle of a cult ritual of some sort. Which I suppose if you were an edgy Night Raven student idia you might argue that the enrollment ceremony totally is as an excuse not to go
But to be more serious, I have seen a few memes about this concept and I like it a lot σ(￣、￣=) It's a fun character concept, it's not everyday you get a chance to re-invent yourself completely.
That being said, just based off of the few dialogue options Yuu has at the start, I think Yuu is implied to believe that they are dreaming:
Which honestly doesn't make this idea any less valid. If you're dreaming about waking up in the middle of some weird necromancer's rite, why not give him a fake name? It's not meant to be serious anyway. Just go with the flow and hope things don't get too weird (and get offended when your dream doesn't give you magic powers) until it's too late and you realize everyone thinks your name really is that bad joke you made.
If you want to get darker, maybe Yuu really did think they died. A black carriage pulling a coffin really only goes to a funeral, and death has been depicted as an unmanned coach with black horses. Maybe Yuu is only just coming to grips with the fact that they really are alive when they see Riddle overblot and he hurts them. Maybe they now are sitting next to two people who have started to think about them as a friend, a really close one. Maybe they think Yuu is really brave because they charged headlong into danger without a second thought, and won, twice now. Maybe Yuu cries themselves to sleep that night because in a way... you died so yuu could live.
As for reactions, Crowley and the other staff members I think would be the most dramatic, followed by Adeuce and Grim. Jack I can see accepting your reasons and not thinking too hard about it, maybe even respecting your survival instincts, while Epel... well he says he's mad but mostly he's just concerned. He knows what it feels like to have two dueling parts of yourself and trying to find the middle ground. Ortho would be excited, you have a secret identity just like a magical girl/super sentai/anime idol/superhero take your pick really. He certainly doesn't mind getting to know you all over again.
Sebek screams at you for being a threat to Wakasama but it's clear to everyone who actually knows him that he's really just worried about the amount of stress you put on yourself. He would hate for you to have the same issues with self loathing he does. And Malleus? Well he lied to you about who he was because he was worried you would be afraid, even though you didn't know he existed. It would be very petty for him to hold a grudge against you for doing the same.
In general I think this would be something the others would have an easier time understanding as opposed to Yuu's sense of alienation or loneliness at not having magic. Identity issues are common themes in fiction, so I could see them actually seeing it as a problem as opposed to an abstract problem like no government papers (since these kids with one obvious exception don't do taxes.) But it would make for a great way to explore the prefect having a crisis just as you say, in a way it's the perfect example for every problem they might have with being in Twisted Wonderland.
#<3 asks#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst yuu#i think azul jamil and ruggie? would probably be the most accepting of yuu in this situation#jamil understands wanting to start a new life but wanting it done on his terms#ruggie understands poverty and not trusting the government#and azul#well he does try to collect secrets on people#it's how he tries to make friends#but he's also clearly “sympathetic” to those he perceives to be living lies#in a way it could be a mirror to how yuu sees him at the end of book 3#“hard work is harder to master than magic seriously your amazing you don't need to steal from people”#vs#“i too value hard work and incremental progress”#“you don't need to lie about who you are to be worthy of respect and admiration”#and let's not talk about cay cay#because i sort of might have spoiled his 800 followers entry if i squint at something i wrote up there
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Not even the burnouts are out here anymore...
CBS GHOSTS 2021-
#cbs ghosts#cbs ghosts spoilers#i actually made myself sad while doing this#i DO think that flower will be back but still :((#ghostlygifs#i kinda lost the plot at the end i hope you get what i'm going for#also i know the text is basically unreadable sorryyyyy. i was squinting at my computer screen a lot
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LOST WITHOUT YOU ☆
INFO: 2812 words, Alhaitham x gn!reader, a little mildly suggestive content (16+)
SYNOPSIS: after focusing your whole life on studies and beating Alhaitham, you find that you've lost yourself, and you don't know how to put yourself back together.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is so rushed and bad but the ideas just kept flowing out and suddenly I wrote a whole short story 😓 (unedited pls lmk if u find errors! likes and reblogs also very much appreciated!!!)
It was never a competition – not to him, at least.
Him, with his cold, unwavering demeanour and even colder, unshakable gaze.
It never was a competition, but to you, everything was. You hated it all. You hated his expression, permanently arranged in disdain, and his withering glare. That look that he always gave you, always the same, blank stare.
Above all, you loathed his overwhelming sense of self importance. He carried himself with such an air that you felt absolutely unremarkable next to him, and in your drunken wishes, you yearned for him to be put in his place.
Wishful drinking, you called it, and such was suited to a night like this. The night before receiving the results for your final exams, the only one that really mattered in your seemingly futile quest to outshine Alhaitham.
Your roommates were fully aware of your infatuation, though you wouldn’t call it that. They teased you for locking yourself up in your room while they went out socialising and bar streaking, most often returning with the reek of alcohol staining their clothes, passing out on the couch.
They thought you weren’t a drinker, too, but truthfully, you only saved drinking for important occasions, and this seemed like an occasion important enough. With a flair for dramatic, you had claimed yet another bottle of cheap wine off the kitchen counter before retreating to your room, several glances of concern and curiosity following you down the hallway. Seated on the miniature balcony, you twisted open the cap on the bottle, wincing at the wine’s harsh bitterness as time slipped by, minutes blurring into hours with hushed murmurs outside your door.
They cared, they really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge them, not with your thoughts too occupied with outdoing Alhaitham to amount to anything substantial. Your roommates already thought you were a studying fanatic – those looks of concern weren’t a first time occurrence as you trudged up the stairs with the wine in tow. You didn’t care enough to correct or reassure them – though were they wrong?
You hardly left the house enough, if it weren’t for classes and your job, you’d be a hermit. It felt suffocating, sometimes, the life you’d given yourself. Though ahead in all other aspects, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind. Everyone was falling in love, while you fell behind, caught in the grinding cycle of academics and validation.
Melancholic and dramatic, you were, when you were drunk. Though others may be hopeless romantics.
“[name]? Someone’s here to see you.” Your roommate knocks on your door.
You don’t glance over your shoulder as the knocking becomes more insistent. “No thanks.”
“May I come in?” A familiar voice echoes from down the hallway. Your hand freezes halfway to the bottle.
The door creaks open, and you turn around, slowly standing up and steadying yourself on the railing. Alhaitham stands in the doorframe, only his silhouette visible through the light pouring in through the hallway.
You’re suddenly far too aware of your pyjama pants and well worn hoodie, folding your arms across yourself. “Why are you here?”
He stands there for a while, completely still. Then he sighs. “I don’t know.” Stepping across the threshold, he starts to close the door behind him.
“I didn’t say you could come in,”
“Sorry.” He says. After a brief silence, he leaves.
You stand there, confused, with unspoken questions hanging in the air.
Then, the door opens again.
You’d never seen him so unsteady before, gaze darting around the room and a flush high on his cheeks. His Emerald eyes are bright as he steps into the dim light of your room. “I have to come in.”
You frown at him in confusion. “Why are you here?”
The moment doesn’t seem real as he crosses the room, joining you on the balcony. Quiet lingers around the two of you as you give up asking for his motive and simply reassume your position at the railing. Maybe you’re too tired or burnt out to care, but as he hesitantly joins you, casting you indiscreet side glances, you offer him the bottle.
A show of camaraderie, perhaps.
He shakes his head, and you take a swig from the bottle, yourself, before setting it back on the low, rusty coffee table.
He fidgets with his hands, turning the ring on his index finger over and over. It clicks with the ring on his other finger, occasionally, resonating an irritating ticking noise.
“Can you stop? What do you want?” You finally outburst, startling him. Alhaitham faces you now, entirely focused on you. But his usual look of casual disdain is gone, and you’re not sure you recognise the man staring at you.
His features bathed in moonlight, his gaze looks softer than it ever had before. The soft breeze brushes his hair across his forehead, and you can’t help but wonder how soft they’d feel to your touch.
“I want you,”
Before you can fully register his reply, he draws you in, one hand reaching around your waist, another reaching softly into your hair, and kisses you.
You fail to register anything at all – all other sensation is irrelevant with the sheer feeling of the warmth of his lips on yours. It feels so wrong, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.
It’s intoxicating. He tastes like wine.
He withdraws, expression blank again.
“What?” You utter, and abruptly, as if snapping out of a stance, he flees your room with such rapidity that you have to consider whether or not it was all a dream. As his footsteps echo down the hallway, you run a hand through your hair, tousled by his touch, snatch the bottle from its place and drink deeply.
–
The autumn chill drifts in the air. Other students dawdle about on the lawns, boisterous laughter echoing across the courtyard. Your class sits in solemn silence. You with your ringing head in your hands, and him with his back turned to everyone, focused on the lecture hall’s door.
When you woke that morning, the morning after that, you were insistent on believing that it was a dream. But the empty bottle lying on the balcony and the ring on the ground said otherwise.
You turn the metal ring over in your pocket, running a finger over the miniature inscriptions on the inside.
‘Empathy, the double-edged sword’
You’d been fretting over how to return the ring, avoiding the primary subject on your mind – overshadowed with the return of the test papers.
The minutes tick by in anxious silence until the door bursts open with a professor whose arms are filled with papers.
If it weren’t for the pounding hangover, you’d be laughing at the anticlimactic atmosphere. The professor grumbles under his breath as he hands out the exam papers and results, not offering a general comment on the class’ results.
He reaches Alhaitham, and gives him the pleased look he always gives him. The class launches into whispers of speculation.
The professor’s walk down the aisles of chairs seems like it takes forever, and you have half a mind to snatch the stack of papers out of his hands and wildly search for yours.
Until he stops in front of you.
A slight smile as he hands the paper to you.
“Well done.”
A perfect score.
Over your shoulder, someone announces it to the entire class.
Alhaitham meets your eyes with a soft smile and a nod. A ninety nine is hastily scrawled onto the front page with red ink.
Relief; Your heart and head feel light, but your stomach is filled with butterflies. It should feel liberating, but you’re unsure what – how – to feel. The past few years had led up to this moment, but it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like you thought it would, like the victory you’d hoped it would’ve been.
As quick as it was, your relief is gone, quickly replaced by a sinking feeling of foreboding as you walk out of the classroom, congratulations falling on deaf ears.
–
It’s midnight, again, and you’re awake, tossing another empty bottle into the corner to join the others.
Your roommates were overjoyed for you, they cooked you a celebratory dinner, toasted to your success, and teased you about going clubbing with them that night. Yet you turned them down like you always did, because nothing felt right anymore.
That gaping hole in your heart, previously haphazardly filled with academics, now felt like a great, yawning chasm with no bottom in sight.
Your entire purpose had been fulfilled, and you had a bright future with job offers lying in your emails, untouched, but it didn’t feel complete.
You realised that you lost yourself.
In trying to become better than someone else, you’d lost yourself, and you didn’t know how to find a way back.
“[name], we’re going out, are you sure you don’t want to join us?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
A slight pause. “Okay. Also, your friend from before is at the front door. Should I let him in?”
You vividly recall the intoxicating, wine stained taste of Alhaitham’s lips against your own, the sensation of his fingers tangling in your hair, and his hand bracing your waist on this very balcony. The ring sits in your pocket, the tiny scrap of metal heavier than ever – a burning weight.
“Sure. Send him up here.” You manage.
Melancholic and dramatic were a few of the things you were when you were drunk, but you were also known to have made horrifyingly bad decisions.
You hear your roommate walk down the hallway and down the stairs. You hear the front door open and close. You take the ring out of your pocket and start turning it over in your hands, pacing around your balcony all the while.
A knock on your door, and you snap to attention, waiting a while before weakly calling for him to enter.
The door slowly creaks open, and his silhouette fills the doorframe. He leans against it, seemingly unsure of whether or not to fully enter.
A long silence ensues.
“Are you here to take your ring back?” You start, holding it out.
“Oh. Yeah.” But he doesn’t cross the room. So you do. You walk toward the door, stepping into the light of the hallway as he steps back.
His cheeks are flushed, gaze darting and fleeting.
With more daring than you’d ever displayed, you grab his hand and slide the ring back on, marvelling at his fingers – long, slender, pale. Pretty. A scholar’s hands.
“Thanks.” He murmurs, looking up from your hands, meeting your eyes for the first time.
The soft look is back again.
“Congratulations, by the way.” He starts, removing his hands from yours. “Professor said we were going to share valedictorian.”
You nod, suddenly immensely uncomfortable. “Not surprised.”
He nods as well, seemingly sheepishly, muttering something under his breath that you don’t catch.
“What was that?”
“Kaveh said that if I don’t tell you tonight, he’d tell you himself.”
“Well tell him that I said thanks.”
He rubs his face with his hand, exasperated. “No, not congratulations,”
“Then what?”
He gives you a long look.
“Are you going to stare at me all night?”
“Archons, I don’t know what you do to me.” He takes your face in his hands and brings your lips to his.
It all feels so right. Alhaitham tastes just as intoxicating as he did the first time, only now, there’s a fervour behind his movements. The cherry wine on his lips is exhilaratingly rich. You could get drunk off his taste alone.
His hands boldly move down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin – in return, your hands wander his torso, teasingly skimming the skin beneath his shirt. He shudders, pulling away, although the sheer intensity of his gaze tells you that he won’t be leaving you this time.
“Does that tell you what I'm here to tell you?”
“Might have to explain a little more,” You rasp, catching your breath.
Some sort of restraint within his self control snaps, and he pushes you into your room, locking your door behind you.
In light of what happened after that, you were tremendously grateful that your roommates had left to go clubbing.
–
Neither of you were sure what it was.
The morning after, he’d left before you woke up. Rather than feeling betrayed, you appreciated his absence, as it gave you time to gather your scattered, alcohol imbued thoughts.
It soon became a regular thing, where he’d stop by your shared house – that you’d never given him the address to (although he later explained that he got it from Kaveh) – to see you. It wasn’t always a hook up, sometimes he dropped by in the middle of the day if you were around, and made conversation.
The first few nights, however, were actively avoided. He would always hurriedly change the topic or avoid the question, averting your gaze. But it didn’t matter now – or so you thought – as he sat on your bed, watching you read.
A month ago, you’d have kicked him out without a second thought, but here you were, making idle conversation about something as ordinary as TV shows and work with him while you read.
It felt nice – right. It felt like you’d known each other for years when you were intent on resenting him for your entire college career. It felt so secure that you’d forget why you hated him.
“What’s on your mind?” He asked, flipping through one of the novels lying on the bedside table.
“You.”
Alhaitham rolls his eyes. “Of course I am.”
You hit him lightly with your book. “Pretentious little shit.”
“Wounded.” He deadpans, setting the book back down.
“Seriously though, I find it so weird that you’re sitting on my bed and making normal conversation with me when a year ago I’d have given you a black eye if you showed up to my house unannounced.”
He frowns. “Why?”
You level him with a blank stare. “Are you being sarcastic?”
He shakes his head, expression genuine.
“You’re not kidding?” You set aside your book, leaning in. “I hated you, you know that, right?”
“What?” His expression is one of genuine surprise as he takes in the apparently new information. “Since when? Why?”
“You have to be kidding me.” You laugh at the comical nature of it all. “You didn’t know?”
He stares at you, mouth half open in shock. “The whole time?”
You nod.
He lies down on your bed, still digesting the discovery. “I thought…”
“What did you think?”
“Your friends always just said that you didn’t socialise a lot, I thought you just didn’t know how to socialise or something,”
You sit and observe him in silence for a while.
“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m surprised” he runs a hand through his steel grey hair. “It was so obvious, now that I think about it. How could I have not realised?”
“Your turn. Tell me.” You suddenly say, lying down next to him. “What did you want to tell me the first night you visited me?”
He goes quiet. He’s quiet for so long that you have to check if he’s still awake. His gaze is pointed at your ceiling, the glow in the dark stars there.
“I’ve been somewhat in love with you for the longest time.” He finally admits, voice thick.
“You what?” You sit up, mouth agape. “What the fuck?”
“If you want me to leave, I’ll go.” He says, sitting up as well. “I figured I should tell you eventually, and that time is now.”
Quiet ensues, as it so often does when you’re around each other. Not an uncomfortable sort of quiet – the quiet that speaks louder than words.
You’d both been blind the whole time. You, for your infatuation with him – with beating him, with his person, with his attitude and, though you’d never admit it to him, his looks – and him, with his one sided love for you.
And though you’d both been too near-sighted to see the other person in their entirety, now your cracks are showing. The recesses in his facade of steel, and the fractures in your mask of indifference.
Two puzzle pieces. Pieces that could mould to each other, shaping and weathering with time.
So when he makes to leave, you grab his hand. A silent question. The tension eases from his shoulders, and Alhaitham pulls you off the bed, wrapping you in his arms.
The past few weeks with him have proven nothing but the possibility of loving him. That the hatred that you’d accumulated over months of blind infatuation masked the presence of something far more confronting.
You couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror anymore. So much of you was missing. But maybe, the two of you could find yourselves in each other.
written by @delat1ne, published 27th of August 2023
#genshin#genshin impact#alhaitham#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham fanfic#alhaitham fics#genshin x reader#genshin angst#genshin imagines#alhaitham angst#alhaitham fluff#theres a tiny bit of fluff if you squint#melodramatic asf#college au#genshin college au#genshin modern au#academic rivals#academic rivals to something like lovers#open ending ish?#ive never actually written this much in one sitting this is a new record for me#i don't normally have the attention span to do this much at once cries#thank you to everyone who actually reads this absolute monster of a post
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Regulus’ heart breaks as he stands there, just behind the willow tree, watching James and Sirius roll around on the grass, play fighting in their own little world.
Of course he left him. Of course James would pick Sirius over Regulus, wouldn’t everyone? Regulus has never been picked first. Not once.
Not by his parents, who ignored him throughout his entire childhood to focus on framing Sirius as the perfect son and heir.
Not by Sirius, who ran away, picking James to be his brother and not bothering to ask Regulus to tag along.
Not in team games, where students would pick through the class one by one, and Regulus would be one of the last few standing.
Not by his friends, who all would chose their partners, or the other people in the group first. He joined last, it’s only fair.
Not even by the lizard who inhabits his dorm room, who picks the three other boys to crawl over to first, every time.
And certainly not by James.
He thought, for once, the cycle might be broken. He thought, for once, someone would pick him first. He’d get chosen over someone else, just once.
He should have known better.
He should have known that the moment Sirius found out about he and James sneaking around in dark corridors and whispering sweet words to each other, James would have to pick.
He was foolish to think James would pick him over Sirius. He was foolish to think that James would pick him over anyone.
And as Lily, with her fiery red hair pulled back into braids, comes marching over to the boys, snatching James up by his collar and earning herself a cheek kiss, Regulus realises he should have seen that coming too.
Not even two weeks has passed since Regulus placed second to his brother, as he does in fucking everything, and James has already moved on.
Regulus would never be anyone’s first choice, he should have known better.
He knows better now.
It’s not until three months later that Regulus finally shatters from it. The crushing weight of never being enough, never being someone’s first choice.
It’s Slytherin against Ravenclaw for the quidditch cup, and there in the crowd, he spots his brother and James.
They’re decked out in silver and blue, and they don’t look at Regulus, not even once.
Barty finds him in the showers, once the entire teams cleared out. He’s dressed in a confusing mix of blue and green, for his own house and his friends.
Hes crying. Regulus doesn’t think he’s ever cried this hard before. The water is pouring down over his head, and he’s still fully dressed in his uniform.
Slytherin lost. He lost them the match, because he was more focused on trying to catch James or Sirius looking his way just once than getting the snitch. They didn’t, and he lost.
Barty clearly doesn’t know how to handle this. The lowest he’s ever seen Regulus would have been prior to an exam he stressed himself out about. Besides, Barty has always been a little awkward when handling emotions.
Regulus tries to tell him to leave him be, he really does. But his words get all chocked up in his throat and he can’t get out much more than a wail or a sob. It fucking hurts.
“What’s the matter, Black?” Barty asks, switching the water off before crouching down in front of him, “What’s got your knickers in a twist, hey?”
“I-I’ll never be… good enough.” Regulus confesses. He’s never said it out loud before. He’s not a vulnerable person, he doesn’t do this. He knows better than to let out his sob story to someone, they can hold it over him one day. But he can’t help himself, he finds. He needs to get it off his chest before it rips him open, “I’ll never… b-be enough.”
Barty’s silent for a while, clearly unsure of what to say. It only makes Regulus sob more. He pulls his knees up to his chest and hides his head in his hand, and he fucking cries. He’s sure if anyone’s still out side, they’d hear it, but Barty locked the door when he came in. At least that’s something.
“I can never be enough.” Regulus sobs again, and this time Barty kicks into action.
He’s still awkward about it, Regulus can tell, he probably has better things to do than listen to Regulus cry as well, which only makes this worse. He pushes Regulus’ sopping hair out of his face and pats his face dry with the end of his Slytherin scarf before hauling them both to their feet.
“Who told ya that?” Barty asks, pulling his wand out to try his hand at a drying spell. It mostly works, so Regulus can’t complain.
“I don’t have to be told something to know it, Barty.” Regulus sniffles, wiping his eyes. They sting, and he knows he looks terrible, but there’s no use in worrying about that now.
“Well… I think, if you haven’t been told, it can’t be true.” Barty shrugs, tucking his wand back in his pocket.
“Fine.” Regulus nods, “My entire fucking family has told me then, on several occasions.”
“Oh.” Barty stills, and he has a look on his face of utter confusion.
Regulus shakes his head and goes to walk for the door, but he winces when he puts pressure on his ankle. He fell on it weirdly, midway through the match when he was knocked off his broom. It didn’t bother him before, but it does now.
“You hurt?” Barty asks, and Regulus nods.
Silently, Barty reaches out and wraps his arm around Regulus’ waist. He flinches at first, startled by the slightly intimate touch, but then Barty pulls Regulus to shift his weight, and he relaxes into it a little. Together, they walk back across the field, Barty carrying Regulus’ broom, and half of Regulus’ weight, and make their way back to the castle.
It’s oddly silent.
It’s always quiet, between them. Regulus isn’t much of a talker, and when Barty runs out of stupid things to say he goes quiet and people watches. He usually watches Regulus, since they’re always together, something that took a while to get used to. Barty really likes to watch Regulus read, it makes him a little self conscious of any strange expressions he might be making.
But it’s a strange sort of quiet now. It’s silent. Regulus isn’t talking, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he feels ashamed for breaking down like that. He doesn’t just break down. Men don’t fucking break down. Especially not in front of people like that. He feels embarrassed that Barty found him.
Well, he’s grateful it was Barty over anyone else, seeing as though they’re supposed to be close friends, Merlin forbid Sirius found him. But it’s still uncomfortable.
The only friend any of them have that likes to talk about feelings is Pandora. Regulus assumed this was because she was a girl, at first, however, Dorcas doesn’t like talking about them either. Pandoras just strange like that, she cares about people in odd ways. Sometimes it’s nice, but mostly it’s terrifying.
Barty looks like he wants to talk. He also looks like he wants to watch Regulus, but every time he turns his head to do so he probably sees the red rimming of Regulus’ eyes and finds something much uglier than usual. It only makes Regulus feel all the more ashamed.
Barty starts whistling. It’s not his regular noise filling whistles either, it’s his uncomfortable whistling. He doesn’t want to be here, Regulus can tell. Merlin, he needs to get away.
“Going back to your dorm?” Barty asks as they round a corridor in the castle.
Regulus nods, “Is Evan-“
“He’s there.” Barty says, “Cas too… dunno about Dora, she’s always off with the fairies. If she’s not hugging Dorcas about their loss then I dunno where she is.”
Regulus goes tense, “I don’t want them to see me.”
Barty stops and swallows, “Okay… how about my dorm then? My roommates are all down by the lake. They snagged some firewhisky.”
“Okay.” Regulus agrees, because he has no where else to go.
Once settled in Barty’s dorm, Regulus changes into more comfortable clothes. Plaid pyjama pants and a green knitted sweater he knows is his own that went “missing” last year. He doesn’t question it, Barty’s strange like that. He likes to collect things, and especially Regulus’ things.
They’re both sitting on his bed, Regulus tucked up under the covers and Barty sitting on the other end. He’s flipping through one of his dorm mates magazines and whistling to himself, his regular whistling again. It calms Regulus a bit.
Lying there, stuck with his own thoughts, he can’t hide from the images that pop into his mind every time he closes his eyes. All of Sirius and James, all of them examples where Regulus placed last.
There’s so many it’s hard to filter out which ones are new and which ones are old.
They all hurt just the same.
“Whatcha crying about now?” Barty asks, looking over at Regulus. He didn’t even realise he was crying again, but he is. “Did I do something wrong? I’ll fix it, whatever. Get ya whatever you need, promise.”
“You didn’t do anything.” Regulus sniffles, rolling onto his back to look up at the ceiling. Barty’s stuck posters up there, muggle ones of girls on motorcycles and punk bands, just to piss off his dad. “I’m just…”
“Go on.” Barty asks, sitting up now, cross legged and attentive. “There’s no one here, just me. Promise I’ll never tell.”
Regulus sighs and fiddles with his fingers, “I don’t need your pity, Barty. I’ve survived this long, I can survive some more.”
“Yeah, but you’re crying.” He says, and Regulus glares at him. “What? I ain’t seen you cry before, it’s weird. I know it’s really gotta be botherin ya if you’re crying like this. What would Dora say?”
“She’d probably try to hug me and make me cry more.” Regulus offers.
“Do you want… me to- uhm, hug you?”
“No.” Regulus glares at him. “I don’t want your pity, I said.”
“It’s not my pity, Regulus!” Barty splutters, “It’s a bloody hug. Dora says there really good for ya! I love her hugs, you know. Get ‘em all the time. I- I know I’m no Pandora but… I mean, I can offer ya a real bony one.”
Regulus snickers and looks back up at the roof, “No thanks. That’s weird.”
“Is it?” Barty asks, “Cause… cause I’ve been listening to what she’s sayin and… I think it would be nice.”
“If I hugged you right now?” Regulus raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah… and other times.” Barty shrugged, “I dunno, might be dumb but… we’re supposed to be friends, ya know? Friends hug. Cas hates ‘em, unless they’re from Dora, but Evan and I hug sometimes.”
“You’re being weird.”
“I’m not trying to.” Barty frowned, “I just… I care about you, I suppose.”
Regulus swallowed. The only person who’s said that before has been Pandora, but she cares about everyone.
Barty… well, he doesn’t care about much at all. He cares about so little, that Regulus thought the only thing he probably cared about was pissing off his dad and Pandora herself. But apparently that’s not true.
Regulus doesn’t want to believe it. He doesn’t want to hurt himself by believing that he could be one of the very few things Barty has come to care about.
But they’re friends, and Barty watches him a lot, and collects Regulus’ things, and helps him when he cries, and offers to hug him.
Now Regulus is crying for a whole other reason.
“One hug?” Barty offers, sticking out his arms, “I’ll make it so quick and if you hate it we don’t ever have to do it again.”
Regulus contemplates it. He doesn’t remember the last time he was hugged.
He knows the last good one was Pandora, maybe last year, when they were leaving for summer. Quick and carefree. The last bad one, that was James. Not that it was bad at the time, but it hurts to think about now. It was false stability and ended in heartbreak. The last time he was hugged to be soothed though? His mind takes him back to Sirius, when they were still little.
“Fine.” Regulus mutters, sitting up under the covers, “But make it quick.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Barty nods and moves in, “Sorry if I’m uncomfortable.”
Regulus nods and sits very still as Barty wraps himself around Regulus’ shoulders. It’s awkward, to say the least. They’ve never done this before, and they’re going about it very strangely.
“Reg… you gotta relax a bit.”
“How am I supposed to relax when I have a boney man attached to me?”
Barty scoffs and squeezes him a little tighter, “Just put your head on my shoulder, orrite. Relax, just for a second.”
Regulus huffs but does it anyway. He leans his head over to rest on Barty’ shoulder and drops his own, and… oh, it’s nice. It’s actually really, really nice. Barty’s soothing his back, and twisting his finger around the end of Regulus’ hair. And it’s nice.
He can’t even feel Barty’s ribs poking him or anything. It’s really, really cosy.
Regulus pushes him away, wiping his tears.
Barty gives him a guilty smile, “Terrible?”
“No.” Regulus sniffles, “It was actually grossly nice.”
Barty snickers and nods his head, “Well, if you ever need another hug, I’ll give ya as many as ya kneed.”
“Thanks.”
“No problems, Black.”
Regulus fiddles with the ends of his sleeve, refusing to look up at Barty, who he knows is sitting there and staring. He’s so quiet, when he stares. It’s as if any noise Barty makes would ruin his ability to set his full attention solely on Regulus.
It’s so strange. He’s so strange.
“You can’t tell anyone.” Regulus mumbles.
“What, that we hugged?” Barty laughs.
“No.” He scoffs, “What I said before, wanker. In the showers.”
“Oh.” Barty nods, “Well, I wasn’t gonna anyway. Course not, Reg. I know you. I know you hate people knowing your business.”
Regulus nods, “You really wouldn’t have told anyone? Not even Dora?”
“Cross my heart.” Barty smiles, doing just that, “I know she’s my best friend, but you are too. It means something, you know?”
“Oh.” Regulus mumbles.
Barty can only laugh at him, and Regulus turns a little pink.
“Can I… no, don’t worry about it.”
“No, go on.” Barty offers, “It’s just you and me.”
Regulus sighs, “I just… I’m tired of not being good enough, Barty.”
“I dunno what you mean, Black. You’re bloody brilliant.” Barty says, flopping down on his back like a starfish, “You shoulda been in Ravenclaw with your smarts, and not to mention your skills as a seeker. You’re top of the class, Reggie, course you’re good enough.”
Regulus thinks Barty will never understand how much that singular sentence fucking means to him, even if he tries to explain it. It stings, how good it feels to hear it. He never has. Not once.
“Not just in school, Barty. Everywhere else.” Regulus mumbles, wiping his teary eyes. They’re stinging again, and he really doesn’t want to cry, but he knows he will. It’s so stupid. “Everything else. I’m just…”
Barty rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his elbow to look at Regulus, “Like, with your family?”
Regulus nods, chewing on a hangnail.
“Yeah, I get that.” Barty sighs, “Is this about… those who must not be named?”
Regulus closes his eyes to compose himself, and nods again.
“Right.” Barty says, “Did Sirius do something? You know he barked at me the other day, like a fucking dog. So I’ll go hex him, happily, if you want?”
“No, Barty. Don’t.” Regulus shook his head, “He didn’t… I… they both just…”
“Go on.” Barty said softly, softer than Regulus has ever heard him speak before as he slowly sits up to get level with him.
“I’ll always be second best.” Regulus mutters, and then he starts crying again. Hot tears down his cheeks, redness in his eyes, stuttering over himself as he shakes.
“Oh, Reg…”
“He- he just picked James, over his own blood brother. Every time it’s James and… and I… and James just… I loved him. I loved him Barty, I was in love with him. I think part of me still is, but… he, he picked Sirius too. He picked Sirius, and Lily, because she’s just… she’s so pretty, and smart, and she’s got everything that I’ve got but, she’s just… she’s just so much better.” Regulus heaved, pressing a hand to his chest, “Everywhere, I see it everywhere. Not just with them, but mostly, I- I’ll never… I’ve never been someone’s first choice, Barty. Ever. And I don’t think I ever will be. No one picks me just because they can.”
His shoulders shake as he cries, his breath short and stuttered. When Barty reaches out in offer for another hug, Regulus falls forward into his arms, head pressed against his friends chest.
It feels so safe there, to be cradled in Barty’s arms, it’s warm. He cries a puddle through his sweater, but Barty doesn’t seem to mind.
“Shh, Reggie.” Barry sooths, lightly scratching his nails over Regulus’ back and sifting his fingers through his hair. “Just breathe, love. Just breathe.”
Regulus follows his command, taking deep breaths and timing them with the rise and fall of Barty’s chest beneath his head. He relaxes there, letting his eyes fall shut, and Barty continues to rub his back and play with his hair.
“I’m so tired.” Regulus mumbles through the last of his tears, “I’m going to fall asleep if you keep doing that.”
“That’s okay.” Barty laughs softly, “How about we lie down?”
“Isn’t that weird?” Regulus asks.
“Isn’t everything I do weird?”
Regulus shrugs and follows when Barty pulls him down to lay against the pillows. Barty slips under the covers with him, and pulls Regulus’ head against his chest again. Bartys heart is beating faster than it should be, but Regulus ignores it and wiggles around until he’s comfortable.
Once again, Barty strokes his back and scratches his scalp, and folds himself into Regulus a little.
He presses a little kiss to the top of Regulus’ head, and his heartbeat speeds up rapidly.
Regulus tenses, “Why is your heart beating like that, Barty? Are you okay? Did I make you uncomfortable?” He questions, already coming up with a million terrible reasons for it. He’s been so stupidly selfish about his own problems he didn’t even notice how uncomfortable he’s made his supposed best friend.
“No…” Barty half follows as Regulus sits up, leaning back on his elbows, “No, Reg. Obviously not.”
Regulus’ shoulders relax a little, “Well, then what is it?”
Barty looks away, “Come on, don’t tease, Reggie. I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m not teasing.” He shakes his head, “What’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem, obviously.” Barty snickers, “Come on, we can just… we can forget about it by tomorrow if it’s weird.
“What’s weird, Crouch?” Regulus pressed, “I don’t understand.”
Barty looked at him for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in the middle, and his mouth slowly fell open, “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” Regulus asked.
“About me…”
“About you… what?” Regulus shook his head.
“About…” Barty sighed, shaking his head in delirium. He laughed, at himself, mostly, which only confused Regulus more, “Everyone said it was obvious. I just thought we both… I thought we had an understanding. That we’d both ignore it and go on with our lives.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Barty?” Regulus asked, shoving at his chest.
“Oi!” Barty snickered, “That I… well… I thought you knew you’d be my first choice for everything.”
Regulus froze, scowling at him for a moment, “Don’t tease-“
“Not teasing, Reggie.” Barty looked away, taking a short breath. “Look, if it’s… if it’s too weird, I get it. But, I’m okay pretending, if you want.”
“P-pretending?” Regulus whispered.
“Yeah.” He shrugged, sitting up and loosely hugging his knees, “Pretending I’m not in love with you.”
Regulus didn’t have an answer for that. He was truely wound speechless. Barty… loves him?
“I meant it… I’d pick- I’d pick you over everything else in this world. I really mean it, Reggie. I promise.” Barty mumbled, “You’re my first pick, always have been.”
Regulus’ heart stops in his chest for a moment. His throat hurts and his eyes sting again. Regulus doesn’t think he’s cried as much as he has today through his entire life, including when he was a baby.
He can’t help it, crying again. Because Regulus believes him. Barty’s always been devastatingly honest, even at the worst of times. So why would he lie about this? And he looks so earnest, sounds it too. He sounds like he really, truely means it.
No ones ever picked Regulus first, besides Barty Crouch Jr, who has a collection of Regulus’ things, and who stares at him unashamedly, and consoles Regulus when he cries even if it makes him uncomfortable.
And Regulus has been too self centred to ever notice.
But Barty is in love with him, and by the sounds of it he has been for a while. Apparently everyone knows it.
He thinks about it for a moment, while he sobs and cries and heaves. Barty does all that he can to soothe him, reaching out to wipe away tears, and hold him, and rub his arms and back.
Regulus doesn’t think he’s ever felt as safe as he doesn’t when he’s around Barty. Which is an odd thing to realise, because Barty is kind of a loose cannon. He’s violent, and angry, and snarky and rude. But with Regulus he’s always… well, he’s funny, and he can still be a little rude sometimes, but he’s also kind and generous and a little odd.
Regulus now realises all that oddness he’s noticed is just things Barty does that signals he’s in love with him. But Regulus has never noticed, he’s never looked to see how Barty doesn’t do all these very things with other people.
He’s Barty’s first choice.
And now that he thinks of it, Barty might just be his.
He’s the only person Regulus trusts to see him like this. Not even Pandora could, as much as he loves her. Regulus just hates being vulnerable. But he supposed it’s a little different with Barty, because he’s always been a little vulnerable with Regulus.
It’s comforting, to say the least, to have confirmation that he’s wanted. That he’s cared for. That he’s somebodies first choice.
And Barty loves him, which is strange. He’s never looked at Barty in that way before. And sure, Barty makes plenty of jokes about finding Regulus fit and wanting to snog him and so on and so forth, but he’s never thought too deeply about it.
He does that with other people, doesn’t he?
Now that Regulus thinks about it, he definitely doesn’t do it as much as he does it to Regulus.
Barty pulls away, rubbing up and down Regulus’ biceps, as he gives a nervous smile. It’s crooked, like most of Barty’s smiles, but this time Regulus really notices it.
“I’m sorry if it’s weird, I dunno what to do, Reggie.” Barty tries, “How do I stop you crying?”
Regulus sniffled and blinked his tears away slowly, refusing to cry anymore. His cheeks are all wet and sticky, and his eyes fucking ache, as well as his throat, but he’s not thinking about that.
“Do you really mean that?” Regulus sniffles, and he blinks away a few more tears, “Me being your first choice?”
“Of course, why would I lie about that, Reg. It clearly means a lot to you- I just… I thought you knew.”
Regulus scrunches up his nose, “Well, why would I cry about how I’m no one’s first choice if I knew I was yours?”
Barty’s quiet for a moment. He retracts his hands and ducks his head to mumble, “I just thought… well I thought I didn’t really matter, at the end of it all.” He shrugged, “I’d do anything for you- I already have, you know, and… I just… I thought you knew. And I thought it didn’t matter to you because… well, I’m the same, I suppose. I don’t think anyone’s picked me first either.”
“You still… even thinking that I just- I just didn’t care about you, or your feelings or… or anything at all, you still…” Regulus scrunched up his nose, ducking his head to catch Barty’s eye, “You still would have picked me first?”
Barty nodded, “Done anything for you.”
“Oh.” Regulus whispered, shaking his head, “Barty…”
“Yeah?” Barty asked, swallowing a large lump in his throat.
Regulus kisses him. No thoughts, no warnings, no nothing at all. He just leans forward and kisses him right on the mouth.
Barty pulls away first, almost immediately, wide eyed and startled, “What the fuck did you do that for?”
“I don’t know.” Regulus muttered, touching his lips, “You just… I… you love me, and… fuck, Barty. You’re my best friend.”
“Yeah.” Barty nodded, there’s water in his eyes now, and Regulus can tell he’s trying to hold it back, “And you just kissed me. Please don’t- don’t do that. I’m… I can’t handle that, Reg. I can handle us being friends, even though it’s driving me mad, but… I just- I can’t-“
“Well, don’t you want to be more?”
“Fucking hell, Regulus.” Barty leers back.
“What?” Regulus scoffs.
“You can’t just fucking… don’t say that.” He shakes his head, taking a moment to compose himself, “Don’t be stupid, orrite. I can’t fucking… I love you, Reggie. I can’t handle… possibilities because I’m just… I’m gonna drive myself crazy thinking about them. And that’s not good.”
“I’ve never had someone love me before, Barty.” Regulus whispers, “I’ve never had someone… I want- I want to chose you too. You’re my best friend, and I already do choose you. But I want to do it more. I want to… please?”
“I don’t understand, Reg.” Barty whispered back.
Regulus took his hand, smoothing his fingers over Barty’s rigid knuckles. They’re rough and scarred, just as they always are. Just as Regulus knows them to be.
“I don’t really either, Barty.” He admits, “I never knew you felt that way, and I’ve never thought about it- you- us. I’ve never thought about us like that before, but I… I can picture it.”
Barty closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Barty. I don’t want to lead you on. I want to try. Don’t you want to try?”
Barty keeps his eyes sealed shut and he shakes his head no, “What happens when you get bored of me? What- what happens when Potter comes crawling back to you? What happens when you realise I’m fucking… more insane than you thought? I’d- don’t tempt me, Regulus, because I meant what I said, I’d do anything for you.” Barty’s breath trembles, “I’d kill him, I’d kill them both. I’d kill all of them, just to make you happy. So you never feel like a second choice to them ever again- I- I mean it, Regulus.”
“I know.” Regulus breaths, and it scares him, what Barty’s saying, because he does know. It’s not just words. But those words aren’t the part that scare him, it’s the fact that he likes it that does. It makes him want. “I know, Barty. And I know that if I hurt you, truly, truly hurt you like this, you’d make my life a living hell. I know.”
“What about Potter?” Barty asks, trying to mask tears of his own, “Don’t you love him?”
“Maybe.” Regulus admits, regretfully so, “But I don’t want to. He’d never… he could never love me the way you could anyway. The way that I need.”
“And how do you need it?”
“To be your first choice.” Regulus whispered, “How do you need it, Barty?”
Barty took a deep breath, thinking about it for a moment. He looked up at Regulus with a pout and hopeful eyes, “I just want to be good enough for love before anything else.”
Regulus smiles, “You are.”
Barty shakes his head.
“You are.” Regulus confirms, “To me, you are.”
Barty sniffles, “Do you love me… like that?”
Regulus sighs, “N… no.” He scolds himself for the truth, because it seems to shatter Barty’s heart to pieces. “But I want to, Barty… I want to love you the way you do me. And I think I will. You just have to let me.”
“Really?” Barty sobs.
Regulus nods, “Will you let me?”
Barty nods and leans back in, and Regulus kisses him again. They both had wet cheeks, and headaches, and heartaches from crying, but they kiss anyway. And Regulus cries again, for hopefully the last time, because Barty kisses like he never wants to stop.
Regulus has never been kissed like that before.
Regulus has never been loved before.
He thinks with Barty, he might just be enough.
★ ★ ★
Bartylus shippers unite.
This one’s so angsty I’m sorry but I can’t help it and yerr Reggie kinda has misogynistic views which is gross but it’s the fucking 70’s and look at his parents. I USUALLY write them all to be better than that and not arseholes but I wanted to make this one hurt.
Also I don’t think I’ve written from Reggie’s pov before sooooo that was interesting.
Idk I liked this. Let me know your thoughts :)
Read here on ao3
If you want to read more of my stuff you can find it all here :))
Tagging everyone that expressed interest in the angsty bartylus one shot lmao: @lapassemirroir @mayflywrites @garlicbread4ever @moonyluv-s @managingmischeif @stxr-bxy @the-lionsheart @crimsonlovebartylus
#bartylus#regulus black#barty crouch jr#using Jegulus as a plot point for bartylus 😬🤭👀🤷#Reggie has so many big feelings but he’s never got to express them before the poor baby#it’s okay. Barty’s here to save the day#also Barty is a Ravenclaw. and so skinny it’s concerning. he’s trying to defy his dad by being the opposite of the big man he wants him 2 b#Barty is also awkward. not good at emotions but feels them so violently anyway. Barty is also a loose fucking cannon.#barty thinks he doesn’t matter when he actually matters to regulus most of all. they both just didn’t know it yet#and then they kiss and get married and have lots of babies#pandora my beloved and lily both get honerable mentions of being wonderful wonderful women. even though Reggie hates Lily he still thinks#she’s amazing#marauders#slytherin skittles#prev Jegulus#barty x regulus#fluff at the end#angst#kinda Jegulus slander#fluff if you squint#so much angst#dead gay wizards#dead gay wizards from the 70s#RAB#Barty jr#Reggie
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mercy
#thresh thg#katniss everdeen#the hunger games#thg#suzanne collins#idk this scene really affected me. this act of mercy#i think thresh’s mercy towards katniss and their shared respect is just not discussed and idk#i love thresh. followed his integrity to the end. what a dude#he felt like a sort of divine intervention. divine judgment#so i used sort of angelic imagery? if you squint lol
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hometown hero let's gooooooo
(to get p6 and then be like... eh it wasn't super good... oscuhhhh)
#oscar piastri#op81#his lil sideways glance at the end#pensive piastri#if you squint... the last one could be girl!oscar#and btw if you haven't ready emptyhalf's girl!oscar fic u should open that ao3 tab immediately
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if Loki did in fact fall in love with Mobius, at one point in time do you think they fell in love with him?
#reply yall#my bet is that Loki thought Mobius was cute but didn’t take it seriously until Mobius was pruned because after that moment#when Mobius and Loki reunite he immediately perks up and there’s a flusteredness between them if you squint enough#I forgot what I wrote in the first tag but yeah by the time he realized Mobius was the only one he could count on at the end of s1#that’s when he fell harder than mobius#because let’s be real Mobius fell first from the minute he studied his file#lokius#loki show#loki season 2#mobius#loki x mobius#mcu loki#mobius m mobius#loki spoilers#loki laufeyson#mobius and loki#loki#loki series#wowki#tom hiddleston#marvel#loki odinson#owen wilson#loki season two#loki s2#mobius mcu
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"Oh look, a deck of Fools"
"Now, which one should I play?"
#sunny day jack#sdj#sunny day jack oc#sdj shaun#sdj nick#sdj ian#sdj jack#hints of Jacktor if you squint#God I got lazy on this one and ended up finishing out of pure spite#my art
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