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#i flung a pudding trying to open it
bioswear · 1 year
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[DO NOT FUCKING REBLOG]
Lads I’m devastated to say I think I might just eat the Metric ticket tonight bc my hand still hurts and it’s still scabbing making everything SUCK
I’m GUTTED bc I thought my tattoo would be healed enough (i expected to get saniderm but I did not - so everything has been healing traditionally and it sucks ass; it’s scabbing and since it’s on the top of my wrist I can’t move it a lot if I want to avoid cracking the scabs) but for my own safety I probably shouldn’t drive when I’m using my nondominant hand for everything
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evandarya · 2 years
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Brain Dead, Tim becomes a halfa
This could be a whole fic.
It was supposed to be an easy bust. Tim had been excited, at first. He had discovered the discrepancies in Dalv Co.'s books. He had done all the legwork pinning Vlad Masters down like a butterfly. He had dug into the man's past and discovered all the questionable business transfers that had skyrocketed the man into wealth. So, when it came time to raid the man's mansion in Amity Park, Illinois, Tim was going to be there. He deserved to be part of this.
When they busted into the mansion they found it empty. The man was nowhere to be found, but they had a search and seizure warrant, so they searched the place. Tim let the Justice League and the SWAT team deal with the nitty-gritty of cataloging and removing Master's stuff and Tim went looking through the mansion.
It was in the library that he knew Masters had a hidden room. He could feel air flow coming from behind a bookshelf, and when he pushed against it, it swung right open. Stone steps led down, deep underground the estate. He radioed Batman to let him know what he was doing and started down the steps.
When he reached the bottom he heard voices. Tim pressed himself against the wall and listened.
"I'm not letting you escape, Vlad." a voice yelled, young and male.
"You won't have a choice, Daniel. Don't forget, if I go down, so do you." that voice was older. Probably Masters. Tim sent a silent message to Batman over his wrist computer.
"I didn't have anything to do with your shady business dealings, and if you out yourself, then that's entirely on you."
Vlad said something then, too quiet for Tim to hear. He leaned in just a little to catch the words, but his foot slipped on a step. There was no way they didn't hear that.
Sure enough, two people came around the corner, a young man with black hair and the bluest eyes Tim had ever seen and the man Tim had been trying to get arrested for the last six months.
Vlad Masters grabbed his arm in a surprisingly strong grip and pulled him out of the stairwell. "Well, well, well, look what the bat drug in." Masters sneered.
The boy, Daniel Vlad had called him, grabbed Vlad's arm and held up a hand, as if to physically stop the man. "Let him go, Vlad."
"Like you could ever stop me, Daniel." Several things happened all at once. Vlad pulled a strange looking taser out of his pocket and tased Daniel. The boy fell to the ground with a scream and a spasm. Tim aimed a kick at Vlad's face, but he was flung across the room and into some kind of device embedded into the wall. He hit the side of the device hard. There was a bright flash and blinding pain.
---
Tim didn't know when he blacked out, but he must have. Otherwise, he wouldn't be blinking into consciousness, staring up at the fluorescent lighting of an unfamiliar room. His whole body felt like pudding. He groaned and brought his hand up to rub his face but froze. Something was wrong. His black gloves were white.
"Red Robin!" That was Batman's gruff voice. "Don't try and sit up yet."
"No, let him sit up." That was the boy's voice. Daniel. "It's best if he gets oriented quickly."
"When I want your input, I'll ask," Batman said through clenched teeth.
"I'm just saying. Not like I know exactly what's going on with him."
"What is going on with me?" Tim asked, looking over at Batman, then the boy, Daniel. Daniel was in handcuffs.
"There was an accident. We don't know the severity of the damage, but I promise, I will find a way to fix this." Batman said.
"He's not broken!"
"Please, will someone tell me what happened to me!" Tim said, desperation leaking into his voice. He looked down at his suit and it was all wrong. His pants, boots, gloves, bandolier straps, and cape were all white, his belt was silver, and his shirt was deep forest green. There was something else wrong, too, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He put his hand to his chest and then he knew. He wasn't breathing. He didn't have a heartbeat. "Am I dead?"
"No," Batman said at once.
"Sort of," Daniel said, earning him a growl from Batman. "Lying to him and yourself isn't going to help anything," he said to the man before turning back to Red Robin. "The accident changed you. You're what's known as a halfa. Half ghost, half human."
"I've never heard of that. How is that possible?" he asked. even though he didn't have a heartbeat he could feel a panic attack building.
"It's rare. There are only three true halfa's in existence. You, Vlad, and Me. You have an advantage over us, though. You won't have to figure this shit out on your own."
Tim looked into Daniel's bluer than blue eyes. His whole world was crashing down around him. Everything would change, he knew. But maybe it wouldn't be all bad.
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loquaciousquark · 3 months
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[Fic] Find Me a Wayward Sun [1/1]
Rating: E Characters/Pairings: Astarion/Tav Word Count: 7k Summary: After finally arriving at Last Light Inn, Tav discovers that the great Good Deed of her adult life has in fact backfired spectacularly, imperiling the very people she was trying to protect. Astarion, thoughtful and considerate fellow that he is, proposes a distraction.
--
“Gods damn me straight to the hells,” Tav said, slinging a fist-sized stone as hard as she could towards the dark, silent lake. The distance travelled was unimpressive, but the water made a satisfying sploosh, and glittering droplets burst up in a perfect ring from the point of impact. She flung another rock. “The Absolute turn my brain into pudding. Devils take me for a godsdamned lemure if I ever try to do something so ferociously stupid ever again.”
The third stone sailed a little farther, bounced off a boulder jutting up from the black water, and skittered off with a pathetic plop. The always-black skies of the shadowlands had grown even blacker with the fall of night, and the starless gloom of the curse pressed tight against her torch’s feeble flame where she’d jammed it into the sand. Not five minutes’ walk from their camp just outside Last Light—the peaked rooftops of the inn were still visible atop the nearby hill—but far enough for her to feel completely alone. She’d have gone even farther if she could.
“And a fat lot of good it did anyway,” she said aloud, hefting another rock in her palm. “All that fuss. Saving a load of helpless tieflings from goblins only to send them trotting straight into certain death. Damned cultists. Damned grove. At least there they’d have died seeing sunlight.”
Another splash, distant and hollow. She whirled to find her next rock, only to discover one being held out to her in a pale, open palm.
Astarion. Gods damn it.
--
Links: FF.net, AO3
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butwhyduh · 3 years
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Fit to be Tied
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Jason Todd x reader
Warning: Christmas? And the f word.
Christmas series 2
Jason didn’t pay much attention to holidays. Nope. That was for the living. He didn’t have much of need for it. But he did know that Christmas was quiet and New Years was busy for patrol. He guessed everyone ate Christmas dinner and and then got bored of playing nice. Or maybe that just wanted to start the new year with a big ass bang. Who knows?
Even when he was a kid, he didn’t celebrate the holidays. Too poor, mom too lost in drugs, and dad? Well fuck him. He was a piece of shit when he was around.
Jason kicked a beer can out of his way into the pile of trash on the sidewalk. They didn’t get the trash again this week it looked like. Daddy Bruce could play bat but couldn’t throw his money around enough to keep trash from piling on the street.
It was fine. He had more important things to do anyways. He had to buy a Christmas present. He didn’t care for the holidays but the sweet girl he had at home was a doll and fuck, if she didn’t deserve something. So Jason went down to the local pawn shop. Usually not a problem but it was 2 AM. Not exactly prime business hours.
So yes, Red Hood was breaking into a pawn shop to get a bracelet. He was leaving cash, $20 over the cost too. It was something you had seen earlier in the week and had admired. Gems of some kind shaped to look like a butterfly. You’d taken a minute longer to stare at it.
He left as quick as he came. And it wasn’t long until he was opening the window of your apartment dressed in street clothes. You were asleep. Jason had used the excuse of patrol to get out. But in the early morning hours of Christmas, he wanted to wake you.
“Princess,” he said gently. You moved a little before opening your eyes. You smiled up at him. Fuck, he didn’t deserve the way you looked at him. Your eyes looked so innocent and sweet. You never looked at him like he scared you.
“Jaybird, what’s going on?”
“I got you something for Christmas and it’s technically Christmas..” he said pulling out the box. You sat up, curious.
“It’s Christmas Eve. You got me something? I didn’t think we were- I didn’t get anything. I couldn’t-“ you said turning red. Money was too tight to consider it. The fact that the heat was still on this late in the month was a Christmas miracle.
“No no. It’s fine. Just being here is enough for me. I’ve never really celebrated Christmas anyways,” Jason said pushing the box in your hand. You held the box before kissing him.
You opened the box to see the bracelet you had been looking at the pawn shop. You smiled and stared at the pretty little butterfly. Jason watched you carefully for a reaction. He’d never admit it but he was more nervous now than fighting on the street.
“You saw me looking at it. I didn’t think you’d notice,” you murmured softly as you picked it up. Jason took it and wrapped it around your wrist. He clasped it on and you looked at it, moving your wrist in the light.
“Thank you. It’s beautiful,” you said quietly looking at it. You had a little grin on your face. Jason smiled. That’s the look he wanted. That little bit of happiness that you showed when you were really pleased. He intertwined his fingers in yours.
“Princess, you’re so cold,” Jason said with a frown. He could feel it colder outside but now that he was getting used to the temperature, it wasn’t warm as it should be.
“The heater was acting up again so I turned it down. The blankets are plenty warm,” you said and his heart all but broke. There was no way he was going to let you be cold all winter because the landlord wouldn’t fix things. He might pay this guy a visit. You sensed his anger.
“It’s okay, Jay. Come lay with me and get warm,” you said taking his hands. He let you pull him into bed. He kicked off his pants and shoes and laid on his side. You curled into him as a little spoon. His long big frame all but engulfed you. It always felt to protective. If he was holding you, he knew you were safe. Jason ran his fingers along your bracelet soft as his rough fingers could.
“You’re so good to me,” you said softly and his heart clenched again. Fuck, if you knew all the bad he did. His messed up past. He thought you would have run away when you first learned he was Red Hood but no, you had been kind.
“Naw, Princess you deserve more then this shitty place,” he said, and for the first time, he felt a little bad about giving all of his trust fund to the soup kitchen he would visit as a kid. A little would have been nice to get a better place for you. But he had been making a ton crushing the drug trade at the time and didn’t have a girl back home when he did it. He couldn’t be as reckless now.
You turned in his arms to look in his blue eyes. He has such an intense look on his face that you frowned. “Jaybird, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said pulling his face back to normal. “Just thinking. I wanna move you to a better place, a safer place than this,” he said running his thumb across your cheeks. You grasped his wrist and leaned into his touch. Jason would sometimes get like that. Thinking you deserved better. And you humored him even though you wouldn’t even know what to do with wealth.
“We’re moving. Soon. I’m promising now,” he said thinking about the painful conversation he was going to have with Bruce. His adoptive father he hadn’t even told you about. Bruce would do just about anything Jason asked. Probably the guilt of letting him die.
“But Jay, we’d miss the water that went from boiling to freezing at random. And I’m not sure if I can sleep without Mr and Mrs Jancowski having sex every Tuesday at 2 AM,” you said with a smile. He kissed you to shut you up. You were joking but each one felt like a little knife in his guilt. You pulled him over you and the thought of money troubles faded from your mind.
———————————————
Jason woke before you and watched you sleep. You laid on his chest with your hand in his hair and your soft breath on his throat. The bracelet was still on your wrist. You looked so peaceful, trusted him while you slept. Jason carefully grabbed his phone and texted Alfred. He’d also have to tell you about his adoptive family. His very famous adoptive family.
He threaded his fingers in your hand that was flung across his waist. You began to stir. Jason moved hair from your face and you blinked to see his pale blue eyes watching you.
“Morning, Princess,” he said with a rough morning voice. You smiled.
“Morning, Jaybird.”
“I’ve got something to tell you,” he started. “I want you to meet my family tonight.”
“Tonight? Your family? I thought your parents...” you trailed off.
“I was adopted. I never told you because I don’t have the best relationship with them. But I think it’s time for you to meet them. I’ve got to tell you something else,” he said and you could hear his heart beat quicker as you laid on him.
“My adoptive father is Bruce Wayne.”
Silence.
��You’re shitting me.”
“Nope. And tonight I’m taking you to meet him. And my adoptive siblings.”
“You aren’t joking,” you said sitting up. Jason sat up too.
“I’m not. I’m kinda the... black sheep of the family. He adopted me when I was 12. I was trying to boost the wheels from the b- Bentley he was driving,” Jason corrected. It was one thing to tell you he was Red Hood. He couldn’t say Bruce Wayne was Batman.
“Wow. I- wow. Okay. That’s a lot to take in. Also on brand to be honest,” you said and he smiled and shrugged.
“Wait. What the fuck do you wear to the freaking Wayne manor for Christmas Eve?” You said a little panicky.
“Whatever you want. It’s just family,” he said with a sideways smile.
“Oh no. I can’t go to freaking Wayne Manor in a Kmart sweater,” you said quickly.
“You can wear,” he said hopping out of bed. He dug way in the back of his closet for a pretty red sweater that was slightly oversized. “This. Should fit fine. Pretty expensive too.”
“Where the hell did you get that?”
“I’ve had it for year and it definitely doesn’t fit now,” Jason said with a laugh. “Try it on.”
—————————————
The weather sucked. Freaking sleet that threatened everything it touched. You were grateful it wasn’t a night of Jason patrolling. This meant taking your car instead of Jason’s motorcycle. Your car was at least 15 years old and you called it Frankenstein because of all the repairs done over the years.
The radio skipped as Jason drove over a speed bump by Wayne Manor and you burst out laughing. Jason looked at you from the side.
“It’s not that funny,” he said. “What’s up?”
“My car is trash, I’m wearing your old sweater, and we’re late. If you weren’t the black sheep before, bringing me home, you will be now,” you said. He grabbed your hand and parked in front of a random house.
“I’ve been the black sheep since I was a kid and you aren’t going to change any thing for the worse. Trust me. In fact they’ll probably think you’re too good for me,” Jason said with a dry chuckle. “So don’t worry about anything. Except making room for pudding. I know it sounds weird,” he said starting to drive again. “But it’s the best part of Christmas.”
Wayne Manor was huge. You knew that. You’d even seen it on tv. But to see it in front of you was honestly terrifying, especially in the nasty weather. You almost hoped Jason was playing some weird elaborate joke and was going to drive on by but he knew the passcode to the gate. He drove in the covered drop off spot by the front door and parked. You both quickly ran in the building.
The front entry was breathtaking. A gigantic Christmas tree and a full staircase decked out in garland like a Hallmark movie. It was like a magazine. In fact, it was in the Christmas episode of Gotham Life the year before.
You gripped Jason’s hand tightly as you walked down the hall. Your shoes sounded unnaturally loud and you had the urge to quiet them like it was a library. Jason pulled you to the doorway of a dinning room full of people settling to eat. Jadon cleared his throat.
“Master Jason! You made it,” Alfred said excitedly. “I recieved your message but it’s been many years. Sit. Sit.”
“Glad you could come,” Jason’s brother Dick said with a grin. He looked at you in curious excitement. You looked down at some kind of mushroom soup placed in front of you. Everyone else was dressed so nicely and ate so perfectly. It was intimidating.
“Yeah, it’s Christmas,” Jason said shrugging. He gave Dick a look that said don’t ask. It didn’t take much for Dick to drop it because he seemed incredibly distracted. You spent most of the meal trying to keep up on conversations you clearly didn’t understand while trying food you’ve never seen before. You could barely remember everyone you were introduced to. One of Jason’s sister(s?) gave you a big hug along with everyone else when she arrived. You couldn’t tell anyone what was even said after the meal. Or so you thought.
Until right across from you, Dick proposes to his girlfriend. He stuttered around before finally asking. “Will you marry me? Oh god, I have a ring,” he said producing one. Everyone watched as she stared in the box.
“Will I marry you?” She asked faintly and you worried she’d say no. How terrible would it be??
“Please say something,” he pleaded and you could tell the man was practically in pain before she said yes. They kissed, the family applauded, and champagne was served.
Jason watched you from the corner of his eyes. How did you react to this? What did you think? You didn’t look jealous or anything. It made Jason think of marriage. He hadn’t before. He’d thought about moving into something more permanent but marriage. He’d never thought about marriage as his future, ever. Of course when you die at 16 and come back with a vengeance, love is low on the priority list.
“Jaybird, you there,” you asked slightly tapping his shoulder. He blinked and looked at you.
“Yeah, I’m here. Just in my head,” he said and you nodded. He’d do that sometimes.
“The party is moving to the parlor,” you said quietly in a proper rich Gothamite voice and Jason huffed before covering his smiling mouth with a nose rub. The rest of the group was moving ahead of you. Dick and his new fiancé were retiring for the night.
“I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I?”
“I’m so sorry, dearest. I can’t understand you with a silver spoon in your mouth,” you laughed. Jason rolled his eyes before guiding your shoulders towards the door. You heard a soft laugh behind you and you turned to see Tim’s girlfriend smiling.
“Sorry to interrupt but I’ve got to use that on Tim,” she said grabbing her coat and walking out.
After making sure you were cool with hanging with Tim’s girlfriend and their adoptive sister Cass, Jason and Tim started a very competitive game of pool. You couldn’t help but look at things that cost more than you’ve ever even seen. The chess set Damian and his girlfriend were playing with probably cost more than your car.
But it was Christmas and you tried to push your insecurities aside. It was a fun evening. A glass of wine you kept sipping on helped as well.
After a while Bruce announced that the roads were too bad and that no one was leaving. Jason clenched his jaw for a second before looking at you and relaxing. He didn’t want to stay but he wasn’t risking your health in any way. Instead he focused on the game.
“So if I win,” Jason said a full hour later. By this time, Damian’s girlfriend had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Your eyes felt a little heavy as well. “I get the penthouse.”
“Sure Jay. That’s Bruce’s. But I’m willing to gamble it,” Tim said throwing his hands up at the ridiculousness.
“I accept terms,” Bruce said. Both boys looked at him surprised. “Whoever wins gets the penthouse.”
You turned quickly to watch the game. Okay, is that a normal thing for them? To bet property. The look on everyone’s face said that no it wasn’t normal.
Jason was excellent at pool. It was a common for you both to go down to the pool hall and play some games. Jason would occasionally make some money playing and he did often as a kid. It was also a way to waste time when your mom was throwing beers back like a fish, like Jason’s mother did. Tim didn’t stand a chance. He wasn’t as good and looked almost like he was in pain occasionally. But maybe it wasn’t a real competition? Maybe Bruce was trying to give Jason something he’d always want to but didn’t know how. Jason easily won the game.
“So the penthouse is mine?” Jason asked. Bruce nodded and shrugged. Tim softly coughed in his hand. Your heart raced. They couldn’t be serious.
“If you’ll live in it,” Bruce said. Damian was carefully carrying his girlfriend upstairs.
“Deal,” Jason says quickly.
“Deal,” Bruce said looking quiet pleased. Was this his plan all along?
“I guess, deal?” Tim said confused. “Though you should owe me. You’re the one that got me shot.”
Your brain broke. He was shot? And it was Jason’s fault?
“What?! You got him shot?” Tim’s girlfriend asked loudly. Tim blanched.
“Not my fault.”
“Literally your fault,” Tim countered.
“What did you do?” You asked looking at him suspiciously. He offered you a sheepish smile.
“I might have said ‘what are you gonna do, shoot us?’ I meant me. Not Tim! He also has a bulletproof suit,” Jason said. Tim must be a vigilante too. You glared at Jason.
“That’s not in the report,” Bruce said with his eyes narrowing.
“Good night everybody. Merry Christmas,” Jason said pulling you from the room and up to his childhood room.
“You’re in so much trouble,” you said and he grinned.
“I’ll deal with it tomorrow. How do you feel about a penthouse? Better than our current place hu?” Jason said pulling you close. You felt dizzy at the idea.
“Seriously? We can’t afford it,” you said trying to stay grounded. It was too good to be true. Things like that didn’t happen to people like you.
“I think I know a guy who can keep the lights on,” he joked and you gave him a serious look. “Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy the idea of constant hot water. Lights never going off,” Jason said pushing you towards the bed. “No one can hear me make you scream.”
“Tempting. Very tempting,” you said and of fucking course it was. A safe beautiful clean penthouse over your trashy scary apartment wasn’t even a contest. Jason pushed you on the bed and hovered over you.
“What are you doing,” you asked flushed but still encouraging him. It was still his dad’s house and he was getting handsy.
“Trying to have sex with my girlfriend on my old bed like every guy ever has dreamed of,” Jason said. He nipped at your throat. You gasped.
“Got to be quiet, Princess,” he whispered and you pulled him down to kiss more.
————————————
The next morning you woke to an empty bed. You fixed your hair as best you could and threw on Jason’s sweatshirt before going downstairs. You caught a glimpse of the kitchen as Bruce slowly slid a set of keys Jason’s way before taking a long drink from his coffee. “I’m glad you made home for Christmas this year, Jason.” The penthouse.
“Morning,” Bruce said to you nodding before leaving the room. Jason was alone in the kitchen but you could hear others in the breakfast nook a door over.
“Keys,” Jason said showing you. “And no lecture.”
You gave him a hug and looked at the shiny metal keys. It would be a while before you could handle the idea of a freaking penthouse being yours. “But you should get something for Tim. You did get him shot.”
“Let him shoot me?”
“Jason, no.”
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strawberrylemonz · 3 years
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Friends
Part 5
Part 6 [CURRENT]
Part 7
DT: @lynn-draws-blog @artistconk @snapdragonfirefly @bargledblocks
--------------------
“He’s so cool!”
“He wasn’t scared or anything!”
Techno hummed as he listened to the two children, Luke and Bitzel, gush about how amazing they thought Tommy was. He couldn’t help but frown as they retold the story of how they all met each other. Cleaning Tommy’s cut, he frowned as the boy flinched away, swatting his hands in the process. 
“Hey!”
“Stop moving, Tommy.”
“No! Leave me alone!”
“Tommy-”
“Nooooo! It stings!”
"Theseus!”
Tommy froze as Techno rose his voice. Deo, Luke and Bitzel just sat on the bed, watching with awkward glances as the two royals stared each other down. Tommy refused to look away from Techno, but that didn’t stop his eyes from welling up with tears. Seeing this, the king’s eyes softened as he stuttered a bit. A frown formed on Techno’s face as he rubbed his face before sitting on the wooden floor. Taking the small boy’s hands in his own, Techno pulled Tommy closer to him. Rubbing the prince’s thumb in a comforting way, the king sighed before connecting the two foreheads together. Whispering in a comforting voice, Techno let his face fall. 
“I thought I had lost you.”
“Wha-?”
“I was scared, Theseus. I thought you were in danger. I thought that I lost you forever.”
Tommy sucked in a breath as he held back his tears. Rushing forward, he embraced Techno in a desperate hug, which was returned. The king just quietly held onto the boy, who sobbed out apologies. After he settled down from his sobbing, Tommy finally stepped back from Techno, who helped wipe the boy’s face free from tears. 
“Never scare me like that again, okay?”
“M’kay...”
Giving the boy a small smile, Techno ruffled his hair as he praised him.
“You did help those two, though. And you made friends. I suppose that cut of yours is also enough for you to have learned your lesson. You did the right thing.”
“Yes! I’m the biggest man around!”
“Don’t get a big head, Tommy.”
“Too late, big man.”
Techno groaned as the tiny blond straightened his posture, proudly smirking as Luke and Bitzel cheered him on. Deo let out an amused laugh before joining in on the cheering. Techno rolled his eyes as he ruffled Tommy’s hair, making the younger boy squeal. 
“You boys don’t leave the castle grounds, okay? I’ll send Red over so that you guys can have some snacks. Tiff should be coming soon with the sleepwear for all of you.”
“I don’t need sleepwear, I’m a big man!”
“Then what about your friends? I’m sure Deo wears them.”
Tommy opened his mouth to make a retort, only to stop. Humming for a bit, he turned to watch Deo, who was amused with everything. As he questioned the older boy, he deflated a bit when Deo confirmed that he did wear sleepwear. Sighing, the small prince nodded at Techno, who snorted at the sight.
“Fine, I’ll wear what Mrs. Tiff brings.”
“Good. You boys behave. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
As Techno left the room, Tiff entered. Humming, she handed each of the boys a set of clothes. Smiling as the kids scrambled to Tommy’s closet to get changed, she helped her husband set up the snacks and extra comforters. By the time the boys were done, the room was vacated and set up for them. As they all exchanged mischievous looks, the kids all ran for the snacks that had been set up. 
“Woah! Look at how much chocolate there is!”
“Yeah! They brought us Coke! Me gusta!!!!”
“Deo! Move! I’m trying to reach the apples!”
“Not my fault you’re short!” 
Staff chuckled and giggled outside the doors as they listened to the group of boys bicker and joke around with each other. Maids giggled as they spread the great news: the prince has finally made friends! Before one of the butlers could comment on the news, the door to the prince’s room opened. Before any of the staff could react, one of the pudding treats left for the boys was flung out of the door, hitting the butler on the face. Giggles from both the children and staff filled the air as the boys declared war on the staff. As the castle sprang to life in the late hours of the night, the king snored away in his room, happy that his kid was once again safe inside the castle.
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sorenskyhigh · 3 years
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How the Haikyuu boys would get their s/o out of their zoom meetings (for example, pretending that they are getting kidnapped and getting dragged off screen) My sister did this before and my teacher was cracking up. THANK YOU BEST FRIEND :)
YES! I love this! Imagine if they took you on a sweet little date afterwards and you both just mess around all day!!! o(≧∇≦o) and thank you so much for supporting me!!!!!
Also I want to apologize for not writing anything, there's been a lot going on and I've just had no will to do anything ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚
Includes Daichi Sawamura, Koushi Sugawara, Asahi Azumane, Yū Nishinoya, Tetsurou Kuroo, Kenma Kozume, Toru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Koutaro Bokuto, Keiji Akaashi, and Satori Tendou
Not proof read
Getting You Out Of Zoom Class
Daichi Sawamura
Daichi may end up being a cop and he may seem like a stickler for the rules, but........
He is super smart
And I definitely wouldn't put it past him to break some rules here and there
Daichi knows you hate the particular class that you're sitting through right now
The teacher was an ass and the class was just not your forte
Daichi was sitting just out of shot and you angrily scribbled down notes. You knew you could lie and make excuses for why you didn't do the work but, your conscious just wouldn't allow you.
Every once in awhile Daichi would reach out a soothing hand under the table and rub his thumb a couple times over your knee to sooth you.
At one point Daichi got up and just stood there for a second.
He intook a large breath before picking you up out of the chair and swinging you over his shoulder.
Hus face appeared in your camera and he just smiled wide and said, "Sorry, they've got something more important to do."
With that he left, not even bothering to turn off anything before he walked out to the kitchen with you and started making a lunch for you two.
Koushi Sugawara
We all love our chaotic Sugamama
Suga though isn't exactly theatrical person
What he would do would be simple and easy but very effective
Koushi was in your kitchen making a cute little brunch for the two of you. He had set everything up in your living room.
Nice, comfy nest on the floor, open windows, a short table to set everything on.
You had been particularly stressed since you had had to start online classes. A lot of people could learn this way, but, you just couldn't
You were busy working and didn't notice when your feed cut out and froze then turned off.
He had asked Yamaguchi what he could do since Yamaguchi was surprisingly good with electronics.
He had gotten into your account and was messing with it. Somehow, since a computer and and his laptop were trying to use it at the same time it genuinely messed it up but that was a worry for later.
"Awww c'mon!" You said before you screamed in surprise.
Koushi had popped up from under your desk,"I think you need a break."
Asahi Azumane
Asahi is a super nervous guy, we been knew
But when he saw just how stressed his little baby was over your online classes
You were sitting in your living room on the floor, all your stuff spread out. You looked like you were spread so thin as you tried to keep up.
Suddenly your front door slammed open and big guy in a mask came in and snatched you up and took you outside after shutting your door.
You were of course until you got outside then you both started laughing.
Asahi had gone over this with you many many many times es just to make sure you were okay with it.
Aftwards he also kept worrying over you on whether he hurt you or not.
Nishinoya Yū
You know this boy would go all out for this
As loud and wild as he can make it
Yū had decided to be as obnoxious as possible. It was simple, yet highly effective.
Not only did you have to turn off your mic but your teacher asked you to turn off your camera as well.
Yū wasn't just a auditory nuisance but a visual one as well.
As long as he could be seen or heard he would either be being a pest or too funny for anyone to concentrate.
After your teacher had asked you to cut off your sound and camera you both obviously left.
Yū wanted to go and eat your entire fridge while you watch horror movies.
Tetsurou Kuroo
You know this man would bring in straight facts
He would cut down any of your teacher/professors excuses as to why you had to stay
"Too much time on a computer, phone or TV screen can cause serious retinal damage. If they can't see then they can't do the work you want them too. Life would be so much harder for them if they lost their sight."
With that he hurriedly turned off your computer and rushed you out of there so you guys could hang out and watch probably an animal science documentary.
Kenma Kozume
You know this boy is tech proficient
He would have your computer so screwed
Why even try
You go to get into your class but the potato filter is on and you can't fix it.
Your teacher is angry at you bc 'you're young and apart of the generation that grew up with this technology so figure it out and blah blah blah.
You're struggling so with the sound, you sound like you had just sucked on a can of helium.
Then the loud celebratory noise emitting from your computer and an all too familiar voice came over and said, " Not today, pudding." Then your entire computer "crashed".
Kenma entered the room very queitly as you sat there.
"It's not broken. But if you don’t play video games with me I won't fix it."
Toru Oikawa
This twink ass drama queen
I pity whoever dates this man if you have to take zoom classes
You know he would be super dramatic about it
You're sitting at your chair and are dutifully taking notes when your bedroom door is flung open.
There stands Toru.
His hands are on his hips and he's pulling his little pouty face.
"Now, little cutie. You have been ignoring me for weeks."
You look at him as if he had lost his mind. You just talked to him this morning.
"If I didn't know ow any better I'd say you had the hots for someone in that class!" He was slowly raising his voice.
"I thought we were happy?! I love you and I wanted to marry you."
Disconnected
After he had unplugged you're entire computer he giggled and kissed you, "Sorry little cutie, I just hate to see you so stressed from those stupid classes."
Hajime Iwaizumi
He gets enough drama from Shittykawa
So he's not going to create any of his own if he can help it
But he did think that video of someone "kidnapping" their friend was pretty funny
You were in the kitchen with a glass of water when Hajime very quietly came in. You had just baby heard your front door close.
He held his finger up to his mouth and pulled a bandana up over his mouth.
He skillfully it over him since this wouldn't be the first time you had had distractions from your friends during class.
You were curious about what he was doing.
Then all of a sudden you were grabbed from the side, the stool falling over as Hajime shut your laptop.
He carried you outside where Shittykawa, Mattsun, and Maki were waiting.
"No more classes for today."
"Yeah you get to have just so much fun with us," Maki said sarcastically.
Koutaro Bokuto
This man
This MAN
I love him to death but not only would he get the entire team in on it but he would screw it up somehow
You were on your bed with your laptop on a blanket in front of you as you listen to your teacher drone on and on and on.
Then you shrieked when your bedroom door was thrown open and three fairly big guys came rushing in.
Naturally you screamed in fear.
Koutaro was the one carrying you as the Konoha turned off your laptop and Akaashi stood there. He was so not with this.
The thing is, Koutaro didn't tell you on purpose so your reaction would be genuine enough to fool your class.
He got you so upset that Akaashi, Konoha, Anohori, Komi, Onaga, Sarukui, and even Washio were chastising him for it.
They weren't having his dumb shit today, no sir.
He made it up to you though, so did the rest of the team.
Keiji Akaashi
After dealing with Bokuto for what felt like a lifetime
He wanted to keep things simple and easy
Akaashi had just walked into your room while you were sitting at your desk.
He had pushed your chair out of the way and simple turned everything off. Saving any documents you may or may not have had open first of course.
Then he took your hand and he took you to a nice and quiet Cafe where you guys spent the rest of the day.
Satori Tendo
Itcha miracle boi
You know that when he starts to make you leave ethe teacher say soemthing he will fight them ლ(ಠ益ಠ)ლ
He's ready to dish it out
Straight up insults them
You were sitting in bed with your laptop while Satpri was sprawled across your lap.
He hadn't disturbed doubt thus far. He was actually being very well behaved.
Thankfully with how you and your laptop set up, no one saw him chillin' like a villain in your lap.
That is until he groaned and started to whine about how boring it was.
Your teacher addresses you and scolds you for having Satoir there.
"Why, it's not like I'm distracting you. You're not doing anything anyways. Let's leave, my Paradise."
After that Satori had a long argument with your teacher, your teacher very clearly losing. More than half your class was losing it at this point.
"Look, you abarrent brat,'" thats when you got mad.
"Excuse me? What did you just call him??!!" You slammed your laptop shut after that.
@kneecapstealingalien @multifandombrainrot @vaniatslover @popcorntime-doodles @i-need-coffee-now-pls @jiheonity @shadowsbutdead @goshikisimp @anothershadeofpink @mestayanon @ghostexhibit @smallmangi @thatfunnysprout @backalley-astrologer @itsallgonnabokayihope @g00s3 @boreateo @all-around-fandoms31 @weareallhumans123 @lil-mellow-bunbun @strawberrymakki @beelziee @mehreenackerman @taiyahhh @sakusasgerm @cr4z3d-cl0wn @detective-bakugou @mainnews32 @turtletris2tumble @oshun22 @syirahtorizawa @wouldsimply31
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jinmukangwrites · 3 years
Text
Whumptober 2020 Day 8
Abandoned | Isolation
Ao3
Warnings: Depression, Panic Attacks, Claustrophobia, blink and you'll miss it Suicidal Thoughts.
Dedicated to @ckbookish! Hope you don't mind me tagging you 👉👈
-o-o-o-o-
"That's great, Dami! I'm happy for you."
Dick held the phone between his ear and shoulder, listening to Damian ramble on about an advanced theater class he got into because the teacher felt the current intermediate class he was in was wasting his potential. He carefully scrubbed the sides of the bowl he had just finished eating about five servings of pudding out of and set it off to the side. He wiped his hands then leaned against the counter, smiling. 
"Thank you, Richard," Damian said. His voice was just as stiff and careful as it always was, but Dick could hear the excitement and gratitude sprinkled in there. The kid was opening up. Expressing himself more and more every day in ways the place he came from had never allowed him to. Dick couldn't remember the last time Damian genuinely threatened anyone with violence, let alone threatened Tim. In fact, last he heard, Tim and Damian were going to go to the Gotham Zoo together next weekend. There was no real reason for them to. It was just to attempt at hanging out and Dick couldn't be more proud. 
"When will you be switching to the new class?" Dick asked. While he did, he began to migrate from the kitchen counter towards his bedroom door, careful to not trip on anything that was laying on the floor. Not for the first time this day, week, month, or year, Dick made a mental note to finally deep clean the place. "Like, is this a tomorrow thing or…?"
"At the end of the term, actually," Damian answered, his voice dropping ever so slightly. Dick hummed in sympathy. He sounded very excited about it, it must be agonizing for him to find out he needed to wait another few months for the first term to come to a close. 
"Well, I'm sure you'll have fun being the best in your current class until then," Dick joked, finally reaching the door to his bedroom and placing his hand on the door handle. Damian scoffed over the phone.
"I am not the best, unfortunately." Damian didn't sound that torn up about it, which was good. Admitting someone was better than you was good character growth. It proved that Damian was letting himself start from the bottom of something instead of immediately being at the top. "There is another girl, her name is Abigail. She has been taking classes since she was a toddler because her mother runs a local theater group."
"So she's as good at theater and you are with a sword," Dick confirmed and Damian hummed. 
Dick opened his door, mentally planning out the least tedious way to get undressed, in bed, and asleep as quickly as possible. First he needed to end the phone call, as much as he didn't want to. He started a new job tomorrow, so he needed to be rested. There was a swimming pool downtown that was looking for an assistant coach for the children's gymnastics classes they held there. Dick took up the job the moment he saw it. Or well, the moment he was no longer swinging past it as Nightwing and was back in civilian clothes. There was a good chance that he could work his way up to being a head instructor with his own classes, considering the woman who hired him didn't really seem the type to enjoy children very much. Dick gave it two months tops before she began to just not show up, making it so he was promoted. 
"I suppose so," Damian said, "she won't be moving up with me however. She has… friends in the lower class that she doesn't want to-"
Dick missed out on the rest, because the moment he stepped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, his feet were knocked out from under him and his phone flung from his hand. Decades of experience made it so he was immediately able to go from zero to a hundred, allowing him to scramble up from the floor and throw a punch at the closest shadow like clockwork.
His fists met air. With wide eyes, he spun around his room, heart in his throat as he tried to figure out what had shoved him to the floor. 
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. All he could see was his messy room, his unmade bed, his open closet, and his closed window.
Suddenly, Dick heard a noise sound across his room from where he threw his phone. Dick rushed across his room and searched for his phone like he had been jolted by a bolt of electricity. He hated how confused and worried Damian's muffled demands sounded. 
"Richard! What happened?!"
There! Dick bent down and reached out his hand to grab the phone-
And then his hand went through the phone. 
Dick stared down at his empty hand and the phone that sat unmoving on the ground, everything going deathly still as he tried to… process what happened. If it was actually real. 
Okay. His nerves were just shot. He tried again, this time a little more slower and careful. He watched with disbelieving eyes as his hand once again just… went through the phone. It just laid there, undisturbed, like Dick wasn't… even there. 
Damian's voice rose in volume and Dick kneeled down, noting now how he was fully grounded on the floor; his shirts and other various objects around him phased through him like holograms. Okay, okay so something was definitely wrong. "Damian?" Dick asked, but Damian didn't say anything, just continued to shout for Dick to answer. 
"Damian!" Dick yelled louder, but Damian didn't say anything that counted as a reply. 
"Richard, if you don't answer me, I will fetch father!"
"Bruce might be a good idea there, Dami," Dick breathed, falling back onto his rear end and watching how he simply went through everything. He brought his hand back to his phone and purposely stuck it through, his fingernail soundlessly tapped the hidden floor beneath. 
Curious, Dick knocked on the wood, and when no noise reached his ears he hit it harder. 
Nothing. He can't touch anything and apparently he couldn't be heard. 
And suddenly, Dick was filled with the crippling realization that he had… no idea what to do now. He just sat there, listening to Damian panic until he eventually hung up to fetch Bruce. Dick sat there, running his fingers through everything he couldn't touch around him until he knew the entire space around him by heart. Dick sat there, and it took him… awhile to work up the energy to stand up and figure this out. But when he did, he forced himself to not let the confusion, horror, and fear stop him. He walked around the room first, looking for something that must have made him like this. There were no sigils that he could see, and if one was hidden under the things he had left on the floor, he wouldn't know because no matter how hard he focused or how many times he tried, he couldn't get anything to move. He went to sit down on his bed to think this through, but then his hand went straight through the mattress and he barely caught himself in time to avoid landing on his rear.
Thoroughly freaked out now, he ran through his dresser, heart pounding to the upbeat rhythm of his phone as Bruce began to call him. Dick didn't pick up the phone, he knew he wouldn't be able to. 
He couldn't touch anything. He couldn't. Touch. Anything. His feet would hit the ground and have no volume. His hands would slap against the wall but nothing would sound. He tried not to panic, but when he went to go out his door, it didn't move. He tugged on the door handle. It didn’t budge. Not a single millimeter. 
And okay. Okay he was beginning to panic now. He sprinted to the window and slammed his elbows against it, but it was like the glass was replaced with a transparent sheet of solid steel. 
Was this some sort of hallucination? Had whatever knocked him down drugged him somehow? Did he hit his head?
He was hyperventilating—this he knew for sure but suddenly he didn't know how to stop it—and without thinking he ran back to his door, banging his silent fists against the wood and tugging on the frozen in place handle. 
Oh gods. This was really happening wasn't it? Somehow, he had found himself unable to move anything. Unable to go anywhere. Unable to- to-
His knees gave out, causing him to slide down against the door and press his forehead against the unmovable force before him. He couldn't- he couldn't breathe. Somewhere, at the back of his head, a voice told him that he could breathe. He could take breaths right now and calm down. He could count five things he could see, four things he could touch, three things he could hear, two things he could smell, and one thing he could taste. He could calm down and think rationally and explore his situation a bit more calmly. But the moment he opened his eyes after not realizing he had them closed in the first place and saw his leg phasing through his empty trash can he knew he couldn't go anywhere from there without having a full blown mental breakdown. 
So he closed his eyes, tried making noise on the door once again, and tried to keep his breakdown to a minimum. 
Just hyperventilating. Just fading. 
"Help!" He shouted before he could really consider what good that would do. He was at the top floor of his building and the neighbors across from him weren't home until early in the morning thanks to the graveyard shift. No one will hear him… even if he could be heard. 
His phone began to ring again and Dick stuck his fist into his mouth and bit down on his knuckles to keep from screaming. 
He sat there—trying and failing to breathe, trying and failing to not cry—and continued to sit there until eventually, he found himself leaning against the door with half lidded and tearful eyes, staring at how his body continued to not touch a single thing.
He let his eyes fall shut one final time and let the stress and anxiety and confusion whisk him away into a very troubled slumber.
-o-o-o-o-
When he woke up he was immediately made aware that his current situation was, in fact, not a nightmare. 
And so much worse than what he could even predict. 
He awoke to him falling backwards, a crick in his neck and spine suddenly becoming undone as the door he was leaning against suddenly opened, hitting his head with a disquietingly silent bonk on the floor of his living room. For a hopeful, blissful moment he thought whatever happened before he passed the fuck out was all fake and he had just imagined the entire thing, but then he opened his eyes and lifted his head…
Just to see a pair of legs sticking out from the middle of his  intangible chest.
His breath hitched, his eyes flicking up to see a worried Bruce literally standing inside of him. The threat of hyperventilating once again became a very real thing as Bruce stepped past him, into the room, and started calling his name. 
"Bruce!" Dick shouted, scrambling up from the floor and running back into the room that had previously been his impenetrable prison. He instinctively tried to grab his shoulder, but ended up flinching back violently when his hand simply went through Bruce. He couldn't feel Bruce at all. None of the course fibers of his winter coat brushed against his touch receptors. "Bruce! I'm here!" He tried again, but surprise surprise, it didn't work.
"Is he there?" A new voice said, and Dick just managed to turn around in time to watch Damian walk into the room with wrinkles between his brow and bags under his eyes, shining black against his olive skin. Dick jumped away from Damian's path as he approached their father and watched with a frown as Bruce bent down and picked up his discarded phone.
Then, Dick's phone suddenly began to ring, causing Bruce to scowl. Frightened, confused, and curious, Dick slowly approached to read his phone's screen. 
It was close to 6am. Bruce must have driven here as quickly as he could after Damian probably took a few hours to panic to himself and work up the courage to tell Bruce that he thought something was wrong. Though, Dick didn't ponder over why they were here so early for very long. The number calling belonged to his new boss.
He was supposed to be at work thirty minutes ago.
"Shit," Dick breathed, stepping back as Bruce clicked the answer button on the phone and held it to his ear.
Immediately, there was the sound of the lead coach’s nasally voice. Coach Shah. Short, lean, toned, full of freckles, and rocking curly red hair. The woman who was definitely a phenomenal gymnast, but probably shouldn't be allowed to work closely with kids with her grumpy attitude. She didn't sound entirely upset from the muffled tones on the other side of the speaker. Maybe she was saving the angry for later, letting the passive aggressiveness of her annoyance at him for being late to his first day of work steadily drip into her tone. 
Bruce finally opened his mouth. "I'm sorry, but I'm not Mr Grayson."
Dick winced at the sound of her confused squawk. Bruce proceeded to explain that he was Dick's father, and that he couldn't find Dick anywhere. Bruce's frown slowly began to deepen as Coach Shah began to probably explain that Dick was her newest assistant and that she hadn't seen him. Shockingly, the phone call didn't end with Dick being immediately fired. Just with Bruce clicking the screen off and looking down at Damian with barely contained worry. 
"You said he just shouted then stopped responding?" Bruce clarified.
Damian nodded, looking at the phone still in Bruce's hand like it had threatened him. 
"Okay," Bruce sighed, brushing his free hand over his jaw. "Okay. Let's look for signs of struggle."
And this was how you could immediately tell that the Wayne family was nowhere close to normal. Normal families would call the police. 
The batfamily searched on their own, then only called the police later to keep up the civilian facade. 
Dick stepped slowly back, then flinched forward when his shoulders met the walls solidly. The feeling of any walls touching him while his feet stood through the things on the floor almost made him want to bend over and vomit. But thinking about vomiting also made him stress about what would happen then and what the sick would touch or if it would make any noise at all. It was repulsive and horrible to think about, so he found a tiny place of clear flooring that wasn't near any walls and folded his arms across his chest.
He watched Bruce and Damian comb through his room, looking for any signs that his disappearance wasn't on his own power. Dick hoped they found something. A reason for why he was a ghost in his own room. 
A solid thirty minutes passed before Bruce deemed Dick's bedroom clean. Evidence wise. Not literally. Dick was pretty sure his room was in an even bigger mess than what it had been before. He jerked out of the way of Bruce as he walked ignorantly past Dick towards the living room. Damian followed along, dragging his feet. 
It was then Dick noticed Damian's hand wrap around the door’s handle. Pure terror shot through Dick's veins, which gave him just enough courage to quickly dart forward and purposely run through Damian into his living room before he was locked back in there again. He didn't know he was gasping and choking back horrified sobs until he felt the first tear tickle down his cheek and off his chin. 
And this all felt so real suddenly. Like not being able to touch Damian—one of the most important people in Dick's entire life—was what gave it the official stamp of reality.
Dick was a living, breathing, walking ghost. 
He couldn't touch anything. He couldn't be heard. He couldn't open doors or pick up phones or touch the shoulder of the man he had considered his father for longer than he had known his birth father. 
It was all he could do to stand and force himself to breath—but did he even need to keep doing that?—and let his tears silently fall. He watched Bruce and Damian sift through the rest of his apartment and finish empty handed. It was hours later when Bruce suggested going back to the cave and checking Dick's phone for any possible clues. So, after Bruce hid a few sensors around to warn them if Dick "came back", they went to the front door while Dick made sure to stick as close as he could without going through them. He wiped under his eyes as they approached Bruce's car, his heart stuttering when he realized he didn't even know if he could even sit in the car with them without phasing through the seats. He might have to walk back to Gotham. 
That would take… hours. 
And oh God, would he starve? Would he be slowly forced to thirst to death because he couldn't touch any of the substances he needed to live? 
Bruce opened the drivers door and Damian opened the passenger. Instead of thinking about the very real possibility that Dick probably had less than a few days left to live—if he was alive at all—Dick once again forced himself to go through Damian. 
Somehow, against all odds, Dick was able to touch the car. Except, when his knees went through Damian's lap to touch the cushioned chair and his hands shot through Bruce's shoulder to support himself jumping into the back of the car, the normally well padded leather was stony and unrecognizable to his touch. It didn't give under the pressure of his weight or grip. It didn't sink around his touch. It remained like cement. 
It felt like cement. 
Dick curled up in the back seat, his heart jumping madly when both the drivers and passenger doors closed. He suddenly felt like a trapped animal. He had no will here. He didn't even bother to try the door handle of the back seat, because he knew it wouldn't go anywhere. The doors wouldn't open for him. The walls wouldn't bend. He brought his knees up to his chest as Bruce drove onto the road and as Damian turned on the radio. 
And he… simply watched out the window and tried not to make too much noise that no one would hear anyway. 
-o-o-o-o-
Getting out of the car door was more adrenaline inducing than standing toe to toe with Killer Croc. It was a good thing Dick was so flexible and had decades of experience with flipping his way through life. Thanks to that, he managed to jump out of the car just in the nick of time.
Seeing the manor like this hit differently. He was barely aware of Bruce and Damian walking past him towards the front doors until he saw Alfred open those aforementioned doors. Dick had to sprint to get inside, and he tried his best to not flinch as the door shut behind him. He didn't succeed. 
Not that anybody saw. 
"Master Dick?" Alfred asked, and more a heart stopping moment Dick almost thought Alfred was talking to him. 
But then Bruce shook his head and began to shed his jacket. 
"No sign of him. His apartment was locked and there was no sign of forced entry."
Alfred frowned and Damian shoved past them all, his body moving with less confidence than it normally did. Dick watched him go, desperately wanting nothing more than to race after him and gather him into the world's bestest hug, but Bruce was heading to the cave with Alfred trailing along. Dick had to help in whatever way he could to push Bruce into finding out what happened. Damian… could wait. He'll have to wait. It wasn't like Dick could do anything for him if he decided to follow after the clearly upset teen anyway. 
"It's almost like he just vanished, Alfred," Bruce continued, his voice oddly wet. Dick's heart tied itself in a knot. "Into thin air."
"No one simply disappears into thin air," Alfred sniffed. "You will find him."
"Yeah," Bruce agreed, sounding unsure but determined at the same time. They walked into the study and Dick carefully followed them both into the cave through the narrow passage of grandfather clock. 
Bruce quickly got to work and Dick stood back, careful to not touch anything. Bruce started the search as he always did, by sifting through traffic cams around the scene of the crime. And since it was Dick's apartment, he also had access to the normal security measures Dick had installed. 
Hours passed and Dick soon found himself sinking to sit on the floor of the cave, watching as Bruce found nothing after nothing after nothing. 
Dick could relate. He certainly felt like nothing.
-o-o-o-o-
Dick couldn't thirst or starve. He found that out on day three of this entire mess, slinking around from open door to open door, doing nothing but breathing and existing. Well, existing to no one but himself. He hadn't even realized he wasn't starving or dehydrated until Tim, Cass, Jason, and Duke showed up three nights later for a quick family dinner. Dick was touched that Bruce called them, and even more touched that they all came. But, as much as he was touched, he was also jealous of the meal Alfred provided. Frustrated that he didn't exist enough to join. 
Bruce filled them all in on what little they knew on the situation and then they all spent the night patrolling Blüdhaven for clues. Dick didn't get into the Batmobile in time to follow along, so he spent the entire night trapped in the cave with Alfred's silent company. 
He spent the nights wandering the hallways and avoiding everything he could walk through. He'd walk and walk and walk until he'd sit down in the middle of the dining room floor, where the carpet was short and didn't stab him like the shaggy carpet of bedrooms did. Where the animals were least likely to unknowingly fall asleep inside of him. 
On the fifth day, he thought Alfred the Cat was watching him. He cried for hours later when he found the cat was just watching a fly. 
Days ticked on. Dick was reported missing to the police. Damian talked less and less, smiled less and less. The others went back to their lives with "keep me updated" being mumbled before they went. 
Dick continued to not exist. 
When the second week passed by, Dick found himself sneaking outside when Alfred went to get the mail. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because it was raining and he was wondering if he'd be able to feel that. 
He didn't. It just went through him and he ended up being trapped in the cold air outside, exploring the wet grounds and not making a single splash, until night came and Damian let Titus and Ace out for a quick potty break. 
By the time the third week came around, things really started to change. It seemed Bruce was constantly talking to people. The police, the Justice League, Dick's friends, everyone who were trying to track him down… and it killed Dick to stand back and watch, clutching his stomach as nothing turned up and Bruce kept coming up with nothing. Dick wished he could leave some sort of message. A way to tell Bruce that he was right there. Just invisible and silenced. But there. 
Dick would love to tell Bruce that he was right there. But at this point, Dick really began to wonder if he was really there at all. 
What if he was dead? Living people didn't go for three weeks without eating or drinking and remain alive. Alive people don't walk through furniture or get trapped simply by closed doors. 
But he couldn't tell Bruce. Which was why when the third week came up and Bruce once again ran into a dead end, he wasn't really all surprised to watch Bruce angrily hurtle his phone across the room and collapse into his chair with his hands in his hair, dangerously close to ripping the fine strands from his scalp. 
The longer Bruce sat there, the more Dick was sure Bruce had finally given up. Batman couldn't find him. It was the waiting game now. Sit and wait and hope. 
Dick left the room shortly after, his mind racing, loneliness running like a poison through his veins. He went to find Damian, but when he found the kid cuddled in a giant beanbag in the library, Alfred the Cat on his shoulder watching him draw carefully, he knew there wouldn't be anything here to reassure him that he'll be found. He walked around Damian anyway, bending down to look at what he was drawing. 
His heart clenched. It was a portrait of Dick. Damian was carefully working on the details of his top lip, shading each little bump and pore with incredible accuracy. 
Dick didn't look more at it. He left the library and roamed the halls, looking for an open door that he can sneak into and get some alone time. Just to calm down. Just to reassure himself that there was no way his family would leave him like this forever. 
That they haven't truly given up on him. That the whispered words of maybe he's dead and he's not coming back, is he haven't actually been said. 
He finally found a room with an open door and he immediately squeezed inside. The room was smaller, which made his anxiety climb ever so slightly, but it was also close to empty with a clear enough space for him to sit down and meditate without touching and going through anything. The door must have been opened by Damian. The kid had been searching out silent places to be alone quite often recently, sometimes forcing Bruce to search the halls, calling his name loudly until Damian finally revealed himself. 
Dick sat down and breathed.
Of course, it couldn't be so easy. His brain immediately recalled back to Bruce looking defeated. To Damian painstakingly crafting every detail of Dick's face with a pencil like he was worried he'd someday forget what Dick looked like. To Jason not having been over in way too long; reports in Blüdhaven of Red Hood being spotted on multiple occasions. To Tim who accidentally referred to Dick in the past tense a couple days ago and looked sick with himself the moment he realized what he said. To Cass who would somehow stroll the same halls as him when she's over until they pass by his bedroom door and she would stop and frown and walk away. To Duke who looked at his portraits Bruce had on the walls and look like he desperately wanted to understand something that he'd never actually be able to now.
They've all given up. He knew it was only a matter of time before there was an empty casket funeral. 
He wondered if he could make that a reality. Death. He didn't need to eat or drink. What if he just… stopped breathing? What if he clawed out his own throat with his nails? What if the next time Alfred opened a window to air out an old, unused room on the highest floor he just jumped out? 
Or would the world be so cruel as to keep him like this for the rest of eternity? Forced to watch as he's given up on, buried, and forgotten? He didn't want to die. Not like this. Not in name before body. 
And not for the first time since Dick inexplicably became a ghost, he felt his throat choke on the beginnings of a sob. 
He curled up a bit, trying to staunch it because he had quickly become annoyed with the sound of his own voice. Why could he still hear it when no one else could? It was awful. Like his words and noises we're all just in his head and he was only hearing what he thought he should hear. 
He gasped wetly, wiping under his eyes and trying to stop this all from happening again. He had already cried enough these last few weeks. He couldn't keep crying every time he felt alone. 
He bent in on himself further, his arms curling around his stomach in such a way that if he imagined hard enough they belonged to someone else and he was in another's calming embrace. It didn't work though. He knew he was alone. He couldn't pretend. 
He was so deep in this attack of utter turmoil and unhappiness that he didn't notice approaching footsteps until he heard the sound of creaking door hinges followed quickly by a click of a door latch. 
Dick looked up with blurry, panicked eyes. 
The door. The door was closed. 
"No," Dick breathed. "No no-" he scrambled to his feet, all the blood rushed from his head and combined with the terrible spike of horror to make him perfectly lightheaded as he stumbled to the door and wrapped his hands around the knob. It didn't budge. "NO!"
He spun around, barely aware of his already panting breaths and frantically searched the room for a hopefully open window. 
The window was closed. He didn't know why he even looked. 
"Fuck," he gasped, grabbing his chest as it constricted tightly. More tightly than what he had felt in a long time. It felt so painful that it was all he could do to turn and bang a closed fist on the door. He wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. "HELP!"
He didn't know why he was calling out. Hitting the door like he thought it might make noise. 
No one would hear him. 
"ALFRED!" Dick screamed. "BR-" he was forced to stop mid-word on that one thanks to a heaving gasp that curled dangerously in-between his ribcage. He swallowed. Or tried to. "BRUCE!"
He kicked the door. Covered one hand over his mouth and tried to calm down. Tried to not think about the solid walls and the solid door and how he was powerless to leave this room. Why did he come in here in the first place?!
He couldn't calm down. All he could think about was how screwed he was. How hopeless everything was. He kept his hand on his mouth as his legs eventually gave out. He brought his knees to his chin and laid on his side atop the carpeted floor, babbling cries and names and pleas until his throat was raw and everything woozy. 
He didn't know how or when he finally passed out, only that he woke up to a still closed door and a still small room, and it took every ounce of his will power to not immediately cry again right then and there. He stayed curled up on the ground and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his stomach and tried to pretend that everything would work out. Eventually everything would be okay. 
He was wrong. 
It took two weeks for the door to open for Alfred's regular airing out of the rooms to reach the one he was trapped in. 
By then, he didn't even know if he should bother to stand up and walk out. 
Not when he was surely no longer alive. Not when he felt perfectly content just laying here being dead. 
But the thought of that door closing again and him having no power over it eventually managed to force him stumbling to his wobbly feet and walking out. 
He didn't know what to expect when he shuffled slowly deeper into the manor. More than a month has passed since his disappearance. Most people don't keep a whole lot of hope for a missing person to return after this long. By this time, people normally began to suggest funerals quietly between each other. 
It didn't take long to find the family. What shocked him though was that everyone was together in the living room, even Alfred who must have finished opening certain doors and windows to refresh the stale air inside the rooms they belong to and walked back quicker than Dick. A movie was playing, some Pixar movie Dick hadn't seen before because of his busy lifestyle. 
And for some reason, this hurt more than if he came in here to find them alone, mourning, depressed. 
They're all watching a movie together. Bruce on the recliner, Damian squeezed between him and the arm of the recliner even though there was more room in other places. Jason sprawled over the three cushioned sofa, his legs resting over Duke, Cass, and Tim like a makeshift blanket. Alfred had his own recliner to himself, reading a book to himself but occasionally glancing up towards the screen. Steph was there too, but she had made herself comfortable on the floor with the entity of the living room's decorative pillows.
They're all watching a movie together. 
Dick had been trying to get that to happen for months. And they're doing it now, when he's gone with no foreseeable way to get back. 
Dick slowly sank to the floor and watched them poke each other and whisper quips to each other and laugh at the funny bits with each other. 
Was this the life he was doomed to have for the rest of eternity? Chasing open doors and watching people move on from him? Do things simply in his memory? 
If he had tears left to cry, he would have shed them.
Instead, he just sat there and watched. 
-o-o-o-o-
Dick's funeral was four months later. The gossip channels and media said they have finally given up. Dick thought they held on for longer than most. 
He didn't attend his own funeral. He didn't want it to feel final. He didn't want the undeniable proof that they've stopped searching. He didn't want to see them cry for him. 
So he walked the manor grounds opposite of the family graveyard. He kicked his feet as he walked, pretending that his footsteps carried weight on the grass and that he was solid enough to disturb the smallest pebbles on the stone pathway. 
Maybe he was dead. Maybe this was hell. He didn't remember where he went, if he went anywhere, when Lex Luthor killed him, but maybe this was it. He didn't know what killed him or what happened to his body, but he was starting to become convinced that he really was simply a ghost, cursed to walk the world and watch people move on and live on without him. 
Half a year ago, that would have settled horribly into his gut. Now? He was numb. 
He continued to walk, to let his mind drift. Pretend he was alive for a little while longer before he returned to the manor and the services and dinners and receptions were over. Decide what to do now that his life was now officially over. 
He sighed and ignored the feeling that he's just as trapped out here in the manor grounds as he was in that room all those months ago. Ho continued to roam.
Though, the sound of a humming voice had him stopping in his tracks. 
No one should be over here. They all should be back at the funeral. Dick immediately focused on the noise, not even bothering to step carefully or approach cautiously. It wasn't like Dick could be seen or heard anyway. He just wanted to see who had snuck into these parts of the grounds while his literal funeral was going on. It was strange and horrible to think about, but come on? A little respect please? He hoped it wasn't some paparazzi. It meant that they'd somehow gotten through Bruce's security… which also meant that Bruce was more depressed about this than what Dick initially thought. He'd seen Bruce get low these past few months, but never low enough to sacrifice the safety of the people he provided shelter to. 
Dick walked towards the grove of trees that the humming was coming from and frowned when he eventually saw the back of a person strolling through the controlled nature. The man was taller than Dick—which wasn't a difficult achievement—and was wearing a simple brown-orange hoodie with dark blue jeans. His hair was dirty blonde and styled up like someone glued a giant ball of cotton to his scalp. Dick didn't recognize him, which instantly set off alarm bells inside his head. The open house reception should be over but the rest of the services were all reserved for close family and friends of Dick's. But this man… he couldn't be someone that was invited. 
Not for the first time, Dick felt the crippling weight of helplessness wash over him. This man could be dangerous, but Dick couldn't do a thing. He couldn't warn anyone. 
He could just watch it happen. 
Or… ignore it. 
He shook his head and sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the same pair of sweats he'd been wearing since that fateful night half a year ago. He almost began to approach further, because even though he was helpless to change anything or warn anyone, he was still curious… but then the man turned around and Dick was stopped in his tracks. 
He didn't... He didn't have a face. 
Dick gaped and watched as the bumps in the man's face that must be cheekbones rose ever so slightly. 
"Oh!" The man said, even though he had no mouth. Dick had absolutely no idea where the sound came from. "You are here!" 
Dick turned around behind him, and saw nobody. Something fluttered in his chest. A hope he didn't dare grasp at even though… even though… the man could only be talking to him. 
"We lost track of you after the convergence. Most people stick around where they disappear!" 
"Are you…" Dick tried, his voice barely recognizable even to himself, "are you talking to me?" 
The limited features of the man's blank face softened. "Yes I am, Dick Grayson. You've been lost a long time."
And Dick… didn't know what to do. This entire time he's had absolutely no contact with anything in the world. He couldn't move anything, couldn't touch anything, couldn't speak or make himself known. This scene before him, one where his voice was heard and he was answered… it was so foreign. Unreal. Dick almost reached down to pinch himself. 
"But luckily," the man continued, "after a long time searching for you at your home city, we figured you must have found a way to your family. That or began to aimlessly wonder like others like you sometimes do."
"Like… me?" 
"Yes," the man nodded then took a step closer. Dick stood his ground as his thoughts ran circles in his brain. What was going on? "You're trapped within the folds of reality, Dick Grayson. It's not something that commonly happens, but something that can be catastrophic if we cannot find you immediately." He paused. "You are Nightwing in this world, are you not? You must understand how the universes work in odd ways."
Dick wanted to nod. Laugh. Cry. Step forward and see if he could touch the man. But he didn't. He just stood there as the man continued. 
"You see," the man said, bringing a hand up to his featureless chin, "what happened was that this universe brushed sides with another one. One that's almost exactly the same in every aspect to yours. Normally, when universes brush, they're so different that they reject each other and go on their merry way down the time stream. The problem was, that because these two universes were so similar, reality as we knew it, well, it got a little confused. It tried to sort out what belonged to what. It gets it wrong sometimes, which is why you're like this. In the universe you brushed with, Dick Grayson was dead. Everything else was exactly the same, but because you were dead and alive the universe decided to make you both. This is why you're stuck here. The universe can't remember if you should be living or dead."
Dick never pretended to understand the multiverse. It always seemed the rules were constantly changing. Shifting to accommodate spontaneous things. It seemed the only one who truly had a grasp on the entirety of the universe was Bart Allen, but the kid was shockingly tight lipped about most secrets of reality despite his superhero name of Impulse. 
And really, Dick didn't care how he ended up like this. All he could really think was how this man could see him. Was looking for him. Something was finally going to change. Whether he was supposed to be fully dead or fully alive... He didn't really care.
He couldn't stand around, trapped in his own intangible body, and do nothing for much longer. 
"So… what does this mean?" Dick asked. "What happens now?"
The man's face squished oddly, and Dick couldn't figure out what he was thinking at all. "What happens now is that we make things right. Return you to the universe you're supposed to be dead in, and keep you in the universe you're supposed to be alive. It will be painful, but don't worry, neither of you will remember a thing."
"Neither-?" 
Dick's question didn't get much further, because in an impossible blink of an eye, the man was right in front of Dick, hand pressing against the side of his head with his thumb pressed above the bridge of Dick's nose. Lightning shot through him, and his vision whited out. Everything became too much and so little at the same time. Hot and cold. Loud and silent. He might have screamed or he might have sighed.
Either way, the sensation didn't last for long. 
Soon he wasn't feeling anything at all.
-o-o-o-o-
Damian hated this. He knew death and sorrow unlike most others. He had seen men and women fall in so many ways it was impossible to list them all. He had seen the way a corpse would slowly rot, and stink, and collapse. He had seen bodies feasted upon by wolves and flies alike. 
He knew death. Yet, for a number of reasons, he just couldn't comprehend this one. 
Because Richard couldn't be dead. He couldn't be. He was simply missing. Nowhere to be found. 
He wasn't dead. 
Damian didn't understand why everyone else insisted on believing otherwise. Father had said that he's searched, and for some reason that meant if Batman couldn't find him then he must not be able to be found. No one besides Damian argued with him. Even Timothy didn't believe him.
He at least had the decency to look ashamed when Damian called him out on it. 
However, it seemed Damian's thoughts and feelings on the matter didn't, well, matter. Even though he was the last one to speak to Richard. Even though he knew for sure that Richard was somewhere alive out there, doing everything he could to get home. Damian swore he would continue to believe in that. No matter what. Even if these months turned into years. Even if Damian no longer remembered every detail of his face by thought alone. 
Father wouldn't let him skip out on the fake funeral though. 
Which was horrible for a massive amount of reasons. All of Richard's friends were here, sobbing and blabbering like children. The empty casket sat above a deep hole with flowers piled on top, and one by one someone would approach, say something emotional out loud or under their breath, then leave the flower in the mockery of Richard's life. 
Damian was glad that his immediate family went first. That way he could slink to the back of the crowd and hold Titus by the leash. Watch from afar. Plan for the millionth time on how he was going to fix this. 
That speedster… Wally West was in the middle of breaking down on top of the casket with large tears cascading down his cheeks when Damian felt a tug on the leash. Damian frowned and looked down at his normally perfectly behaved dog to see the animal trying to tug Damian towards the unoccupied grounds of the manor. Damian tugged Titus gently back, tutting at him under his breath. 
Except, Titus didn't stay at Damian's side for long. The animal took one wide eyed look at Damian before turning tail and sprinting. The leash was yanked out from Damian's hand, and it was all Damian could do to not shout in surprise or outrage. 
He nervously shot a look at the casket, where Donna Troy was now saying her goodbyes while West leaned onto her for support, making sure no one was watching him, then turned to chase after his disrespectful dog. 
It might be a fake funeral, but it was a funeral nonetheless. 
Damian ran after Titus, jumping over shrubbery and flowers like they were the gaps between rooftops, diving for the trailing leash whenever he got close enough. 
He never got close enough. 
Out of breath and covered in grass stains and twigs, Damian watched with glaring eyes as Titus took refuge in a carefully planned grove of trees. Thankfully, Damian saw the dog halt on the other side of a bush, bending his neck down to sniff at something. Probably a wild animal. Even though Damian could have sworn he trained Titus better than to chase rabbits or squirrels. 
Damian stuffed his hands in his suit pockets and began to stomp his way over. 
"Titus! Quit this misbehaving!" 
Titus looked up from what he was sniffing, whined, then bent back down. Completely ignoring Damian. 
What was going on with that dog? 
Damian walked around the clump of bushes and between the trees, extremely curious as to what was so important that Titus would disregard orders for it.
When Damian saw what Titus was bent over, Damian felt every single molecule of air leave his body like he had been sucker-punched in the stomach. 
"Richard?" Damian breathed. Double took. "Richard!" 
He sprinted forward and Titus quickly jumped out of the way. Horrified and terrified and shaking, Damian grabbed Richard's shoulders and turned him around, for he was laying face down on the ground. 
Richard groaned, but didn't open his eyes. Blood trickled down the corners of his lips and nose. His clothes were filthy. He looked like death. 
But he was alive.
Damian turned to his good, good dog. "Go! Get father! Hurry!"
Titus didn't have to be told twice. He barked then sprinted back to the forest. 
Damian turned back to Richard, running his hands across his body, taking in the loss of weight, the eye bags, the stains of mud all over his clothes. He shook his shoulders, trying to wake him up, but Richard remained asleep to the world. 
It took a second to realize he was crying. 
Thankfully, he was able to wipe them away when a confused and worried Bruce Wayne busted into the grove of trees along with the rest of the family and even a few of Richard's friends. Gasps and shouts filled the air, and Damian soon found himself pushed back as Dick was rushed to by the adults. 
The ambulance was called not long after. 
The drive to the hospital seemed like a dream. 
The wait felt like it took years, but Richard only took about three hours to wake up, severely starved and dehydrated and not a single memory of the past five months.
And somehow, everything went back to normal. Richard was released from the hospital a few days later with a strict meal plan and physical therapy schedule. His memories didn't return, but sometimes Damian noticed things had changed in Richard since then.
Like his new and strange fear of small spaces and closed doors.
It didn't matter though. Damian was just… overjoyed that he was right and that Richard was still living a breathing, even if it seemed he had simply vanished and reappeared from thin air, with no trace of anything in-between. 
All that mattered was that the family was whole again. Richard was on the road of a full recovery. 
No one could ask for more. 
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maddyvasy · 2 years
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Daily Prompt Forty
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<"Oh she is angry." I whistled
"How can you tell?" He asked.
"Well you can see her mood by her hands. Like right now, she has a gun. I don't think that means she is happy to see us.">
She raised her gun pointing it directly at my chest. "You idiots!" She yelled.
"Oh yeah definitely not happy to see us." He said.
"In his defense-" I started but she pressed the barrel of the gun to my lips silencing me.
"You don't get to talk." She snapped. "And you. I expect this behavior from him, but you?"
"I tried to stop him I really did." He raised his hands in defense.
She motioned to the completely trashed room. The tables were flipped over and splintered across the floor. Most of the windows were broken and the chandelier was in pieces on the floor. In the mess the men who tried to attack us laid dead or unconscious.
I pushed the gun away from my mouth. "What did you want me to do? Let them kidnap you?" I demanded.
She waved the gun around. "What I wanted you to do is dispense of them quietly. Now we have guests waiting outside not knowing there is a disaster zone inside!"
"You're still worried about your little party?" I scoffed. "Are you serious?"
"I'm sorry if my job isn't important to you or you don't think is worthy of your attention but it is to me. Despite everything that has happened I still have a country to run. You run a country by keeping the people happy. How do you keep people happy?" She reached down and picked up a crushed dirty cupcake. "You give them free food and a party."
"Your life-" I was interrupted by her shoving the remains of the dessert in my mouth.
I stared at her with my jaw wide open. The velvet cake was sweet with a hint of buttercream but was overpowered by the taste of dirt and iron.
"I cannot believe you just did that." He gasped covering his mouth with his hands.
I looked at her who stared right back. Her hands proudly on her hips looking defiant as ever. Without even a hint of remorse on her face. I spit out the cupcake at her shoe wiping the frosting off my lips. I saw a fallen cake was near her foot and before she could even blink I had reached down and shoved the entire thing in her face. She screamed backing up wiping the frosting off her face. Her eyes promising war. She grabbed an unopened bottle of champagne, uncorked it, and it spewed right in my face. I growled swiping the bottle out of her hands pushing her back landing in a puddle of pudding and blood.
"Guys!" He said trying to intervene.
She grabbed handful of smushed sandwiches and flung them at me landing right on my chest. She grabbed another cake and threw it hitting my shoulder. I swooped down and grabbed a bunch of rolls throwing them at her like snowballs. She dove over a dead guard behind a table where she found more champagne bottles.
"Guys seriously." He tried again but we couldn't hear him.
I leaped over her table tackling her and getting a mouthful of bubbling liquid while I did. I had started laughing and she had too. Finally we both laid on the floor cackling coated in food and grime. Her dress had been ruined along with her hair. Champagne ran down her cheeks and pieces of cake clung to her hair. She looked over at me smiling.
"I'm still mad you know." She said reaching over and brushing a piece of frosting off my lips.
"I know." I said.
"So are we going to talk about the guests waiting outside or stay in here throwing food covered in blood at each other?" He asked leaning over the table.
Her and I both locked eyes and smiled deviously. We both grabbed a nearby cake and threw it right at his face sending him flying backwards. We laughed together the party outside being the last thing on our minds.
Author here! Hello as you noticed I posted the most recent Through the Mist piece this morning so go ahead and give that a gander. I hope you enjoyed this one it was light and cute. Reminder the prompt will always be in <> with my original writing afterward. Thanks for reading!
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accioromione · 4 years
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Can someone please explain to me where the Ron being stupid stereotype came from? Not only is he not stupid.. he’s not average either .....he’s straight up smart .. Like did we read the same books? Like look at these Ron quotes...
“Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.
‘It’s either really valuable or really dangerous,’ said Ron.- PS
---
“What is it?’
Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.
‘It’s an Invisibility Cloak,’ said Ron, a look of awe on his face. ‘I’m sure it is – try it on.’
Harry threw the Cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.
‘It is! Look down!” -PS
---
“You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad,’ said Ron, when Harry told him about these dreams. -PS
---
“See you later, then,’ said Harry.
Hagrid shuffled off.
‘What was he hiding behind his back?’ said Hermione thoughtfully.
‘Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?’
‘I’m going to see what section he was in,’ said Ron, who’d had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.
‘Dragons!’ he whispered. ‘Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper’s Guide.’
‘Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him,’ said Harry.
‘But it’s against our laws,’ said Ron. ‘Dragon-breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks’ Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It’s hard to stop Muggles noticing us if we’re keeping dragons in the back garden – anyway, you can’t tame dragons, it’s dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie’s got off wild ones in Romania.’
‘But there aren’t wild dragons in Britain?’ said Harry.
‘Of course there are,’ said Ron. ‘Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I[…]” -PS
---
“What’s that at its feet?’ Hermione whispered.
‘Looks like a harp,’ said Ron. ‘Snape must have left it there.” -PS
---
“Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare … What did Professor Sprout say? It likes the dark and the damp –’
‘So light a fire!’ Harry choked.
‘Yes – of course – but there’s no wood!’ Hermione cried, wringing her hands.
‘HAVE YOU GONE MAD?’ Ron bellowed. ‘ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?’
‘Oh, right!’ said Hermione” -PS
---
“Harry, Ron and Hermione shivered slightly – the towering white chessmen had no faces.
‘Now what do we do?’ Harry whispered.
‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ said Ron. ‘We’ve got to play our way across the room.’
Behind the white pieces they could see another door.
‘How?’ said Hermione nervously.
‘I think,’ said Ron, ‘we’re going to have to be chessmen.’
He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight’s horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.
‘Do we – er – have to join you to get across?’
The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other two.
‘This wants thinking about …’ he said. ‘I suppose we’ve got to take the place of three of the black pieces.
Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, ‘Now, don’t be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess –’
‘We’re not offended,’ said Harry quickly. ‘Just tell us what to do.’
‘Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go there instead of that castle.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’m going to be a knight,’ said Ron.” -PS
---
“White always plays first in chess,’ said Ron, peering across the board. ‘Yes … look …’
A white pawn had moved forward two squares.
Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry’s knees were trembling. What if they lost?
‘Harry – move diagonally four squares to the right.’
Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, face down.
‘Had to let that happen,’ said Ron, looking shaken. ‘Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on.’
Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.
‘We’re nearly there,’ he muttered suddenly. ‘Let me think – let me think …’
The white queen turned her blank face towards him.
‘Yes …’ said Ron softly, ‘it’s the only way … I’ve got to be taken.’
‘NO!’ Harry and Hermione shouted.
‘That’s chess!’ snapped Ron. ‘You’ve got to make some sacrifices! I’ll make my move and she’ll take me – that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!” -PS
Xxx
“D’you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?’
‘No,’ said Ron, without hesitation. ‘Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the wizarding world.’
Something in Ron’s voice made Harry ask, ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’
‘Course I do,’ said Ron quickly. ‘But – you must admit it’s weird …’
‘I know it’s weird,’ said Harry. ‘The whole thing’s weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber has been opened … what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You know, it rings a sort of bell,’ said Ron slowly. ‘I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once … might’ve been Bill …’
‘And what on earth’s a Squib?’ said Harry.
To his surprise, Ron stifled a snigger.
‘Well – it’s not funny really – but as it’s Filch …’ he said. ‘A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn’t got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch’s trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much. -COS
---
“Harry and Ron looked under the sink, where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Harry stepped forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flung out an arm to hold him back.
‘What?’ said Harry.
‘Are you mad?’ said Ron. ‘It could be dangerous.’
‘Dangerous?’ said Harry, laughing. ‘Come off it, how could it be dangerous?’
‘You’d be surprised,’ said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book. ‘Some of the books the Ministry’s confiscated – Dad’s told me – there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And –’
‘All right, I’ve got the point,’ said Harry. -COS
---
“Rubbish,” said Hermione. “You've read his books — look at all those amazing things he's done —” “He says he's done,” Ron muttered. -COS
Xxx
Hermione didn’t answer. Ron looked around.
“Where is she?”
Harry turned too. They were at the top of the steps now, watch­ing the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall and lunch.
“She was right behind us,” said Ron, frowning.
Malfoy passed them, walking between Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked at Harry and disappeared.
“There she is,” said Harry.
Hermione was panting slightly, hurrying up the stairs; one hand clutched her bag, the other seemed to be tucking something down the front of her robes.
“How did you do that?” said Ron.
“What?” said Hermione, joining them.
“One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again.”
“What?” Hermione looked slightly confused. “Oh — I had to go back for something. Oh no —”
A seam had split on Hermione’s bag. Harry wasn’t surprised; he could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.
“Why are you carrying all these around with you?” Ron asked her.
“You know how many subjects I’m taking,” said Hermione breathlessly. “Couldn’t hold these for me, could you?
“But —” Ron was turning over the books she had handed him, looking at the covers. “You haven’t got any of these subjects today. It’s only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon.”
“Oh yes,” said Hermione vaguely, but she packed all the books back into her bag just the same. “I hope there’s something good for lunch, I’m starving,” she added, and she marched off toward the Great Hall.
“D’you get the feeling Hermione’s not telling us something?” Ron asked Harry. –POA
--
“Do you think Black’s still in the castle?” Hermione whispered anxiously.
“Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be,” said Ron.” -POA
XXX
“I’ll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!’ said Ron hotly.
‘Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!’ said Hermione”  -GOF (he was right obviously)
--
and unjust systems, just because they’re too lazy to –’
Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood.
‘Let’s just keep moving, shall we?’ said Ron, and Harry saw him glance edgily at Hermione. Perhaps there was truth in what Malfoy had said; perhaps Hermione was in more danger than they were. They set off again, Harry still searching his pockets, even though he knew his wand wasn’t there.” -GOF
---
“It’s been over a week,’ Harry said, looking at Hedwig’s deserted perch. ‘Ron, you don’t reckon Sirius has been caught, do you?’
‘Nah, it would’ve been in the Daily Prophet,’ said Ron. ‘The Ministry would want to show they’d caught someone, wouldn’t they?” -GOF
---
“Oh, c’mon, ’Er-my-knee,’ said Ron, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. ‘Oops – sorry, ’Arry –’ He swallowed. ‘You won’t get them sick leave by starving yourself!’
‘Slave labour,’ said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. ‘That’s what made this dinner. Slave labour.’
And she refused to eat another bite.
The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark windows. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.
‘Treacle tart, Hermione!’ said Ron, deliberately wafting its smell towards her. ‘Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!” -(trying to get hermione to eat because he’s a wise boy who knows that hermione is being stupid by starving herself instead of just ignoring it) --GOF
---
“Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron’s and Hermione’s. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.
‘Er,’ said Ron tentatively, ‘my dad told me about one … is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Moody appreciatively. ‘Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.” -GOF (we love a humble Ron who knows the answer)
---
“it down, you silly little girl, and don’t talk about things you don’t understand,’ said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. ‘I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl … Not that it needs it –’ she added, eyeing Hermione’s bushy hair.
‘Let’s go,’ said Hermione. ‘C’mon, Harry – Ron …’
They left; many people were staring at them as they went. Harry glanced back as they reached the door. Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was zooming backwards and forwards over a piece of parchment on the table.
‘She’ll be after you next, Hermione,’ said Ron, in a low and worried voice as they walked quickly back up the street.
‘Let her try!’ said Hermione shrilly”- GOF (of course he was right)
           Xxx
Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror,' said Ron in an off-hand voice.
 'Yeah, it would,' said Harry fervently.
 'But they're, like, the elite,' said Ron. 'You've got to be really good. -OOTP (HE BECOMES ONE)
----
I did think he might be a bit better this year,' said Hermione in a disappointed voice. 'I mean . . . you know . . .' she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table ' . . . now he's in the Order and everything.'
 'Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots,' said Ron sagely. -OOTP (wizard way of saying “people can't change who they really are inside”)
---
Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, then leapt into his lap and settled down.
 Thanks,' he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.
 'I still reckon you should complain about this,' said Ron in a low voice.
 'No,' said Harry flatly.
 'McGonagall would go nuts if she knew –‘ -OOTP
---
‘So what's in the Department of Mysteries?' Harry asked Ron. 'Has your dad ever mentioned anything about it?'
 'I know they call the people who work in there "Unspeakables",' said Ron, frowning. –OOTP
---
'We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped,' said Fudge last night. 'Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals, and we beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached.'
 There you are, Harry,' said Ron, looking awestruck. That's why he (Voldemort) was happy last night. –OOTP
---
Yeah, but that's another thing, how did they get premises?' said Ron, hitting his teacup so hard with his wand that its legs collapsed again and it lay twitching before him. 'It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? They'll need loads of Galleons to afford the rent on a place in Diagon Alley. She'll want to know what they've been up to, to get their hands on that sort of gold.'
 'Well, yes, that occurred to me, too,' said Hermione –OOTP
---
'So,' said Ron, pushing aside a low-hanging branch and holding out Harry's wand, 'had any ideas?'
 'How did you get away?' asked Harry in amazement, taking his wand from Ron.
 'Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice  little Impediment Jinx,' said Ron airily, now handing back Hermione's wand, too. -OOTP
---
'Have you seen this?' said Ron.
 'What?' said Harry, but eagerly this time - it had to be a sign that Sirius had been there, a clue. He strode back to where they were all standing, a little way down row ninety-seven, but found nothing except Ron staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelf.
 'What?' Harry repeated glumly.
 'It's - it's got your name on,' said Ron.
 Harry moved a little closer. Ron was pointing at one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years.
 'My name?' said Harry blankly.
 He stepped forwards. Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:
 S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.
 Dark Lord
 and (?)Harry Potter –OOTP
XXX
"Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we're trying to tell them apart!" said Ron. "When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we're going to be having a look to see if its solid, aren't we, we're not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?'" There was a ripple of laughter, instantly quelled by the look Snape gave the class. –HBP
"Lucky," said Ron suddenly. "Harry, that's it — get lucky!"
"What d'you mean?"
"Use your lucky potion!"
"Ron, that's — that's it!" said Hermione, sounding stunned. "Of course! Why didn't I think of it?" –HBP
---
"Are you selling this stuff?" asked Harry, watching Mundungus grab an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.
"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mundungus. "Gimme that!"
Ron had stooped down and picked up something silver.
"Hang on," Ron said slowly. "This looks familiar —"
"Thank you!" said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron's hand and stuffing it back into the case. "Well, I'll see you all _ OUCH!"
Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand.
"Harry!" squealed Hermione.
"You took that from Sinus's house," said Harry, --HBP
---
wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it," said Ron, casually turfing a first year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire so that he could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not what you'd call foolproof."
"You're right," said Hermione, prodding Ron out of the chair with her foot and offering it to the first year again. "It wasn't very well thought-out at all." –HBP
---
Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow. . . ." (RON)
"I'd worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. What happens if you break it, then?"
"You die," said Ron simply "Fred and George tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything when Dad found us. He went mental," said Ron, with a reminiscent gleam in his eyes. "Only time I've ever seen Dad as angry as Mum, Fred reckons his left but­tock has never been the same since."—HBP
---
"I want to know what he's up to," said Harry. "And don't tell nn its all in my head, not after what I overheard between him and Snape —"
"I never said it was all in your head," said Ron, hoisting himself up on an elbow in turn and frowning at Harry, "but there's no rule saying only one person at a time can be plotting anything in this place!” -HBP
---
"Knew you'd be top at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Ron, punching Harry on the shoulder. "We've done all right, haven't we?"
"Well done!" said Mrs. Weasley proudly, ruffling Ron's hair. "Seven OWLs, that's more than Fred and George got together!" -HBP
---
"If only we could hear what they're saying!" said Hermione. "We can!" said Ron excitedly. "Hang on, damn." He dropped a couple more of the boxes he was still clutching as he fumbled with the largest. "Extendable Ears, look!" "Fantastic!" said Hermione, as Ron unraveled the long, flesh-colored strings and began to feed them toward the bottom of the door. "Oh, I hope the door isn't Imperturbable..." "No!" said Ron gleefully. "Listen!" –HBP  
---- 
That's it, though, innit?" said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D'ya reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?" -HBP (this basically reveals that they were the best in this class)
XXX
“Only if you shouted about it,” argued Ron (elder wand). “Only if you were prat enough to go dancing around, waving it over your head, and singing, ‘I’ve got an unbeatable wand, come and have a go if you think you’re good enough.’ As you as long as you kept your trap shut—”  -DH
---
“Harry, you were right, it was Godric’s Hollow all over again, a complete waste
of time! The Deathly Hallows. . . such rubbish. . . although actually,” a sudden
thought seemed to have struck her, “he might have made it all up, mightn’t he?
He probably doesn’t believe in the Deathly Hallows at all, he just wanted to
keep us talking until the Death Eaters arrived!”
“I don’t think so,” said Ron. “It’s a damn sight harder making stuff up when
you’re under stress than you’d think. I found that out when the Snatchers
caught me. It was much easier pretending to be Stan, because I knew a bit
about him, than inventing a whole new person. Old Lovegood was under loads of pressure, trying to make sure we stayed put. I reckon he told us the truth,
or what he thinks is the truth, just to keep us talking.
“Well, I don’t suppose it matters,” sighed Hermione. “Even if he was being
honest, I never heard such a lot of nonsense in all my life.”
“Hang on, though,” said Ron. “The Chamber of Secrets was supposed to be
a myth, wasn’t it?”
“But the Deathly Hallows can’t exist, Ron!”
“You keep saying that, but one of them can,” said Ron. “Harry’s Invisibility
Cloak—“
“The Tale of the Three Brothers’ is a story,” said Hermione firmly. “A story
about how humans are frightened of death. If surviving was as simple as hiding
under the Invisibility Cloak, we’d have everything we need already!” -DH
---
“Where the hell have you been?” Harry shouted.
“Chamber of Secrets,” said Ron.
“Chamber — what?” said Harry, coming to an unsteady halt before them.
“It was Ron, all Ron’s idea!” said Hermione breathlessly. “Wasn’t it absolutely brilliant? There we were, after you left, and I said to Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still hadn’t got rid of the cup! And then he thought of it! The basilisk!”
“What the — ?”
“Something to get rid of Horcruxes,” said Ron simply.
Harry’s eyes dropped to the objects clutched in Ron and Hermi­one’s arms: great curved fangs, torn, he now realized, from the skull of a dead basilisk.
“But how did you get in there?” he asked, staring from the fangs to Ron. “You need to speak Parseltongue!”
“He did!” whispered Hermione. “Show him, Ron!”
Ron made a horrible strangled hissing noise.
“It’s what you did to open the locket,” he told Harry apologeti­cally. “I had to have a few goes to get it right, but,” he shrugged modestly, “we got there in the end.”
“He was amazing.” said Hermione. “Amazing!”
“So …” Harry was struggling to keep up. “So …”
“So we’re another Horcrux down,” said Ron, and from under his jacket he pulled the mangled remains of Hufflepuff’s cup. “Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn’t had the pleasure yet.”
“Genius!” yelled Harry.
“It was nothing,” said Ron, though he looked delighted with himself. “So what’s new with you?” -DH
---
“Harry contemplated the thing, slightly revolted. It was human in shape and size, and was wearing what, now that Harry’s eyes became used to the darkness, was clearly an old pair of Ron’s pajamas. He was also sure that ghouls were generally rather slimy and bald, rather than distinctly hairy and covered in angry purple blisters.
“He’s me, see?” said Ron.
“No,” said Harry. “I don’t.”
“I’ll explain it back in my room, the smell’s getting to me,” said Ron. They climbed back down the ladder, which Ron returned to the ceiling, and rejoined Hermione, who was still sorting books.
“Once we’ve left, the ghoul’s going to come and live down here in my room,” said Ron. “I think he’s really looking forward to it — well, it’s hard to tell, because all he can do is moan and drool — but he nods a lot when you mention it. Anyway, he’s going to be me with spattergroit. Good, eh?” -DH
“That’s as much as I can do. At the very least, we should know they’re coming, I can’t guarantee it will keep out Vol —”
“Don’t say the name!” Ron cut across her, his voice harsh.
Harry and Hermione looked at each other.
“I’m sorry,” Ron said, moaning a little as he raised himself to look at them, “but it feels like a — a jinx or something. Can’t we call him You-Know-Who — please?” -DH ( he was right)
---
“For the first time, Harry imagined Mad-Eye’s body, broken as Dumbledore’s had been, yet with that one eye still whizzing in its socket. He felt a stab of revulsion mixed with a bizarre desire to laugh.
“The Death Eaters probably tidied up after themselves, that’s why no one’s found him,” said Ron wisely.
“Yeah,” said Harry. “Like Barty Crouch, turned into a bone and buried in Hagrid’s front garden. They probably transfigured Moody and stuffed him —”
“Don’t!” squealed Hermione. Startled, Harry looked over just in time to see her burst into tears over her copy of Spellman’s Syllabary.
“Oh no,” said Harry, struggling to get up from the old camp bed. “Hermione, I wasn’t trying to upset —”
But with a great creaking of rusty bedsprings, Ron bounded off the bed and got there first. One arm around Hermione, he fished in his jeans pocket and withdrew a revolting-looking handkerchief that he had used to clean out the oven earlier. Hastily pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the rag and said, “Tergeo.”
The wand siphoned off most of the grease. Looking rather pleased with himself, Ron handed the slightly smoking handkerchief to Hermione.
“Oh … thanks, Ron  I’m sorry. …” She blew her nose and hiccuped. “It’s just so awf-ful, isn’t it? R-right after Dumbledore … I j-just n-never imagined Mad-Eye dying, somehow, he seemed so tough!”
“Yeah, I know,” said Ron, giving her a squeeze. “But you know what he’d say to us if he was here?”
“ ‘C-constant vigilance,’ ” said Hermione, mopping her eyes.
“That’s right,” said Ron, nodding. “He’d tell us to learn from what happened to him. And what I’ve learned is not to trust that cowardly little squit, Mundungus.” -DH
--
“If I can’t use magic, and you can’t use magic near me, without us giving away our position —” he began.
“We’re not splitting up!” said Hermione firmly.
“We need a safe place to hide,” said Ron. “Give us time to think things through.” -DH
---
“You — you don’t think you’ve still got your Trace on you, do you, Harry?”
“He can’t have,” said Ron. “The Trace breaks at seventeen, that’s Wizarding law, you can’t put it on an adult.” -DH
---
“Because we used his name?”
“Exactly! You’ve got to give them credit, it makes sense. It was only people who were serious about standing up to him, like Dum­bledore, who ever dared use it. Now they’ve put a Taboo on it, any­one who says it is trackable — quick-and-easy way to find Order members! They nearly got Kingsley —”
“You’re kidding?” – DH
“Well, they keep on the move, don’t they?” said Ron. “Like us.”
“But did you hear what Fred said?” asked Harry excitedly; now the broadcast was over, his thoughts turned again toward his all-consuming obsession. “He’s abroad! He’s still looking for the Wand, I knew it!”
“Harry —”
“Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol —”
“HARRY, NO!”
“— demort’s after the Elder Wand!”
“The name’s Taboo!” Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent. “I told you, Harry, I told you, we can’t say it anymore — we’ve got to put the protection back around us — quickly — it’s how they find —”
But Ron stopped talking, and Harry knew why. The Sneakoscope on the table had lit up and begun to spin; they could hear voices coming nearer and nearer: rough, excited voices. Ron pulled the De­luminator out of his pocket and clicked it: Their lamps went out.” -DH
---
“Blimey, Neville,” said Ron, “there’s a time and a place for get­ting a smart mouth.” -DH
---
“It’s quite straightforward, really,” said Neville modestly. “I’d been in here about a day and a half, and getting really hungry, and wishing I could get something to eat, and that’s when the passage to the Hog’s Head opened up. I went through it and met Aberforth. He’s been providing us with food, because for some reason, that’s the one thing the room doesn’t really do.”
“Yeah, well, food’s one of the five exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration,” said Ron to general astonishment -DH
----
“SILENCE!” cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. “It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!”
Harry felt himself lowered onto the grass.
“You see?” said Voldemort, and Harry felt him striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. “Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”
“He beat you!” yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defend­ers of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.- DH
Like ???????? He’s a smart ass.....a skilled wizard...understands social cues..knows when to ask questions...makes skilled observations...like where does the stupid stereotype even come from?????? 
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littlespaceporgs · 4 years
Text
Back Then
hi babes!! how we feelin about prompt 18 with obi? congrats again ily!
Hello my love! I genuinely enjoyed writing this, I’ve never written in interactions with Anakin so i hope you like it, Ann! <3
Want to Request? See here.
Back Then
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Prompt: #18 – “well, it’s the thought that counts”
Pairing: Obi-wan x reader (if you squint, it’s slightly more platonic) Word Count: ~950ish Description: Baking has never been your forte, and it’s not really Anakin’s thing either... What could possibly go wrong?
Tags for my lovelies: @cherieboba @captainrexstan @aty-cgca7 @acnini
“Y’know Anakin, I’m fairly certain that it’s not supposed to look like this.”
“Sure it is! It’s brown, and it’s got choc-chocro-uh?” The small blonde boy turned to look up at you for guidance. You smiled down gently, half stifling a laugh.
“Chocolate?” He then grinned triumphantly and gestured to the bowl in front of you.
“Exactly! Chocolate chips! So it’s supposed to look lumpy right?”
“I’m still not sure... maybe we should add some extra milk so it’s not as thick? Anakin, would you mind?” And with that he ran around the corner to the refrigeration unit.
It had been a little over 5 months since Anakin had arrived in the temple. When Obi-Wan had returned as a knight and without a master. You remember the first few weeks after they got back, when Anakin was still somewhat shy and Obi-Wan was still hurting. During that time, you stepped up to help out with training and caring for Anakin for times, while Obi went to see the mind healers. He had been reluctant to accept any help at all for the longest time, but eventually gave in. 
Now, months later he was still healing, and Anakin was an energetic and reckless 10 year old, and today was Obi-Wan’s birthday. Anakin, who was thankful for Obi taking him on decided that he wanted to make a cake for him and thus enlisted your help. The boy had good intentions, and originally he had said that he wasn’t bad at cooking, that he used to help his mother on Tatooine. You were quickly beginning to doubt this however, if the flour and batter all over the bench was anything to go by. Shaking your head, you laughed and turned to the oven to check the temperature.
“Uh Master?”
You turned to look at Anakin, who was standing rather guiltily with a half empty milk bottle in his hand. Oh no. The second that you had been turned was apparently too long.
“Ye- Force! Anakin how much did you add?” You looked over at the bowl, which now resembled a plain bowl of milk, rather than a cake batter. You picked up the spoon and attempted to get some of the batter. When it slid off the spoon the two of you gagged slightly.
“I think this may be done for, Ani,” you said laughing, “if you’re quick, you may be able to get some pudding cups from the refectory?” The boy, who still had a scrunched up nose, nodded and disappeared out the door this time. You heard him yell from the hallway.
“Hi Master! Bye Master!” The cause of such a yell appeared in the doorframe a second later, mouth falling open as he saw the state of the kitchen. It was rather comical really, you struggled to remember a time when Obi-Wan had looked as bug-eyed as he did now.
“Now, this isn’t what it looks like,” you said, grinning despite the mild look of horror on Obi-Wan’s face. You took steps towards each other until you were only a few inches apart. His arms came up to his chest and crossed in front of him, and then the flabbergasted expression melted into a raised eyebrow and his mouth twitched in a way that made you think that he was attempting to stop himself from laughing.
“So you’re going to tell me that you and my Padawan didn’t attempt to bake something?” You gasped offendedly, resting your hand on your chest.
“How dare you!” Finally breaking, he smiled gently and lent down to kiss your forehead, lighting your cheeks on fire. “Happy Birthday, Obi.”
“Oh, is that what that’s,” he pointed at the mess on the bench, “supposed to be?” You nodded and tried to prod the mixture with the spoon again, which had oddly now turned overly goopy despite nearly being pure milk. You shrugged your shoulders sheepishly.
“Possibly?” He laughed, and for the first time in a while, his smile seemed genuine.
“Well, I guess it’s the thought that counts.” He grinned and wrapped his arms around you and shut his eyes contentedly. You embraced him back, holding him tight around the middle.
“Okay, but did you seriously try to bake when we both know you can’t?” He mocked, and you could hear the smirk on his face.
“Ye-well-it normally doesn’t go that badly,” you didn’t move from where the two of you stood, which you would learn that it was a rather large mistake. “I thought that for once, it might just work out for me!” He laughed again but still didn’t move.
And then oddly, you felt something gooey slide down the back of your head and neck. Unwinding yourself, you reached up to touch it, and upon inspection of your hand, it seemed to be the “cake batter”. Eyes turning upwards, you caught sight of the bowl hovering over you.
“YOU TOLD ME YOU COULD COOK!” A small and somewhat squeaky voice echoed into the room. Spinning widely around, you saw Anakin in the doorway, his hand outstretched in your direction. From beside you, Obi-Wan snorted. Finding your resolve, you smiled sweetly.
“Well Anakin, why don’t you taste it and find out!” And you flung the batter that was stuck to your hand in the young boys direction, where it met his mark across his nose. Laughing, you spun again and whipped your cake filled hair into Obi’s face. Anakin gasped from behind you, as Obi-Wan’s face dropped into shock. Nodding once to himself, he scooped up a handful of flour from the bench. The giggling stopped and you were forced to start running.
“WAIT NO-OBI ST-“ you were cut off as one arm went around your hips and the other threw the flour into your face. Anakin giggled madly and ran in to the fray that quickly, scooping up more batter and flinging it at various areas.
Later on in life, you regarded this as one of the happiest days. Back then, when Obi-Wan didn’t always look exhausted. Back then, when everything just seemed so easy and simple. Back then, when everything was still okay.
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choruscas · 3 years
Text
suptober day 08: electric
please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!
also, i’m so sorry that these stories are late! i went on vacation and i totally forgot my writing ipad and had nothing else to use to post these! hopefully these long oneshots will make it up. thank you!
boss!castiel, assistant!dean
Working two years at an insurance company really had a toll on some people. Sometimes it sagged their skin, brittled their bones, or grayed their hair. Sometimes the bosses made your ears bleed and your nose crinkle, wishing it was five o’clock already.
But not Dean. Sure, he was thirty-two and going on strong, but he wasn’t old compared to the rest. There was still a kick in his step, his bones were mighty and strong (thanks to Sammy’s tips on how to stay fit while literally doing nothing) and maybe he had a little bit of a gut going on, but nothing he couldn’t fix.
His boss? Castiel Novak.
Lots of people didn’t like him, as he had lots of enemies. Dean wasn’t sure why, as he didn’t care. Before he accepted his job as assistant, lots of people told him about Castiel. (“Novak’s numbfuckin’ gorgeous, man.” — “Be careful with that one, he’s pretty rough.” — “He’s like... emotionless.” And those were only a few examples.)
He was stone cold, monotonous, soulless.
Even heartless, some said.
But there was a mighty, mighty problem.
Mr. Novak is the most attractive person in the entire world to Dean. Once he saw a picture of his boss, with his piercing blue eyes and five o’clock shadow, Dean was submissive nearly immediately. In his interview, Dean just could. not. stop. staring. Even if his life depended on it, he could not stop looking at the movement of his broad shoulders, the work of his rough hands, the flickering of his eyes like pure fire.
-
Dean sat in the office’s kitchen during lunch break. Normally he would go out and maybe grab a cheeseburger of sorts but today Mr. Novak seemed very different. He seemed sad, to Dean. And since Dean was in love — no... had a huge crush on his boss, it upset Dean himself.
Eating a spoonful of pudding and sucking on the plastic utensil, April Kelly sat down in a chair at Dean’s table, flattening her skirt before she sat. Dean eyed her suspiciously, as she looked a little revolted by something.
Hushed in a whisper, she asked: “So is it really true? Are you and Mr. Novak... a thing?”
Nearly choking on his spoon, Dean jerked his head back and began a coughing fit. A few other employees looked at Dean whose face began to turn red and the tips of his ears tinged shades of pinks.
There was a lot of things Dean had heard in his life that he had the same question for: what the fuck? For example, walking in on his gym teacher and science teacher going at it like rabbits in the teacher’s lounge, or the time poor seven year old Sammy came home with a broken arm and said that a squirrel had snapped it in half. (In reality, he fell of a tree because he tried to jump to a branch with a squirrel, but little children had dramatic memories.)
But this question? Cream of the crop. Takes the cake. Out of all the questions she could’ve asked. “Hey, are you a diabetic owl too?” Or “Have you dated nineteen Katherine’s all with the same spelling who also dumped you?” And sure, those questions would’ve weirded him out, but this one... just mind boggled him.
How in the fuck could Dean even be remotely in Castiel’s league? Hell, he didn’t even think he was gay.
“No— what? Who said that?” Dean gawked, his eyeballs practically falling out of his head.
April rolled her eyes softly. “Bartholomew.”
Dean huffed explosively. Bartholomew Strautman. World’s biggest fucking idiot in the world.
“That bastard? April, you know that’s not true. You’re smarter than that.”
The assistant knew for a fact that she was not, but he didn’t wanna hurt her feelings for rumors she didn’t even start. Dean’s nickname for Bartholomew was B.S., because that’s normally what he was fucking full of whenever he was around him. Dean’s surprised he’s never swallowed a damn sandal for how many times he stuck his foot in his mouth.
Now, Dean didn’t really like April, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to be nice to her. He was only mean to bitches who were mean to him first, otherwise, it was just insensitive.
“I just hope it’s not true.” she sighed sadly.
Dean quirked his head. “Why?”
“I really like Mr. Novak...” Her voice then became a whisper. “And... I think he likes me too.”
Dean blinked multiple times. “Uh— Yeah. Maybe.”
Her head peaked up to meet Dean eye to eye. “Really?” she exclaimed.
Now, Dean wasn’t really expecting that.How the fuck is he supposed to tell her, “Hey, you’re kinda dumbass and I don’t like you... and Castiel is mine, so fuck off.”
So instead he just told her that she might have a chance. It saved him from having to deal with a full-grown temper tantrum (which she’s had before because her printer paper wouldn’t fit in the copier. Dean had fixed it by simply rotating the paper.) in the middle of work, which he would much rather not have.
It was an hour before Dean left work. He normally got there at eight o’clock in the morning, because Castiel needed his coffee before nine. Granted, Castiel had never asked Dean deliberately to make his coffee, but Dean’s attempt to swoon him with bribery kindness were his day-to-day tasks. So at the moment,
The elevator dinged and Dean turned around in his desk, just having finished beating Kevin Tran in Crazy 8. Every day they’d play something different. Monday was Crazy 8, and sometimes they’d manage to round a few other people too. Today, they had managed to grab Bobby Singer, Anna Milton, and Meg Masters to play a few rounds. Tuesday’s, Wednesday’s, Thursday’s and Friday’s, it would just be Kevin and Dean playing.
Dean turned around to see his boss, and he just so managed to exit out of the tab and onto some random website that totally looked like work.
Fuck, was he hot.
His black overcoat was off and his white dress shirt was rolled up, the cuffs on his sleeves were unbuttoned, and he looked like a little bit of a mess. However, it was extremely attractive and Dean found himself biting his lip to stop himself from drooling over him.
The whole office sort of stifled quiet as Castiel’s cold eyes peered around the room. Dean, however, was the closest to him and he could just smell the cinnamon and black coffee radiating off of him.
“Dean.” Castiel said softly, looking down at Dean who had just grabbed a pen to twirl around his fingers.
“Yes sir?” Dean snapped up, straightening his posture and tugging at his sleeves.
“I need you in my office.”
Whispers quirked across the office floor, probably rumors about their relationship. It has never happened and Dean had told himself over and over again that it wouldn’t happen.
However, the thing that happened next was terrifying.
Once they had reached his office, which was a story up from his desk, Castiel had taken the lead and Dean found himself shaking with eagerness (and nervousness) of what’s next to come. Castiel had held the door open for him and once Dean reached inside, Castiel shut the door and locked it.
It was normal for Dean, but in this circumstance, he overthought everything. So the door locking was terrifying to him.
Castiel laid his hands flat on his desk and eyed Dean with precaution.
It made Dean tremble in his bones.
“You have heard the rumors, have you not?” he asked, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. It was such an innocent gesture that was so un-Castiel that Dean found himself nearly falling on his knees to worship him.
“Yeah-“ he stopped himself. “Yes sir.”
Castiel’s hands left the desk and he began slowly walking toward Dean, eyeing him as if he was prey and Castiel was the predator. Dean was then trembling in his shoes, feeling as if he could throw up from how nervous they were.
Now, Castiel’s next question was yet another question that Dean was not expecting.
“Are you romantically attracted to me?”
Not wanting to lie, Dean succumbed to Castiel’s look of prestigious nature. “Yes... yes sir- I...”
Castiel shushed him. “I’ll be after work. Make sure everybody is gone and turn off all the lights before you come back here. 5:30, Dean.”
Fuck.
-
Dean eyed the clock with such suspicion that he wanted to smash it in the floor and turn the minute handle to 5:30 already. At five o’clock, people should be starting to pack up and leave.
And as five o’clock pulled around, they did just that. Dean said his goodbyes, trying not to look suspicious. Because normally when the clock struck five, Dean was up and out faster than you could say cherry pie. He liked his job (the sexy boss sure helped) but relaxing was better to him in his opinion.
At about 5:15, people were still taking their sweet precious time.
5:20. Dean still had to go all the way to the basement to turn off the lights.
5:25. Anna Milton.
“Hey Dean, good job on Crazy 8 earlier! You’re pretty good.”
Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes and slap her in the face. He knew exactly what she was doing, like she did everyday. Flirting.
“Listen, Anna— Mr. Novak-“
“Castiel is a cheapskate, he can wait.”
Dean’s nostrils practically flared from the informality and disrespect she had for him. Since Dean was in love had a huge crush on his boss, any disrespect towards him made him blood boil.
“Anna...”
“If the rumors are true...”
“They’re not.”
“Alright, whatever.” she flung her hands up in defeat, sighing like it was her last breath. “If you wanna play another game sometime, my house is always open to move some furniture around.”
Dean shivered. Anna was cute and all, but she was toxic and manipulative as fuck. He only had eyes for one man and one man only.
Shit! It was 5:29.
Once the door and shut and he knew Anna was out of the office like Castiel had said, Dean ran to the basement, his messenger bag almost falling down the stairs many, many times.
He really needed to work out instead of using Sammy’s stupid techniques of having good posture and drinking water (also while watching TV, a detail Dean “forgot” to tell Sam) to burn calories.
He finally reached his office, after having to run four flights of stairs, he finally made it. At 5:35. Fuck.
Knocking on the door made Dean realize how hard he was shaky. In all honesty, this was probably the scariest thing he’s ever had to do.
What if he gets fired? What if he breaks his heart? Fuck. Anything could happen.
“Come in.”
And so Dean did, and the sight he saw was a sight for sore eyes. His tie was untied and hanging around his neck, his belt was off, and his dress shirt was untucked.
The sex they had was indeed not heartless. It was soft, and full of something Dean never though Castiel was capable of giving him: love. He treasured him as if he was the richest gold or rarest diamond, kissing his every freckle and blemish like he was made of glass.
(tags below)
@potato-painter
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rons-hermiones · 3 years
Text
Come Find Me
Come Find Me
by rons-hermiones
Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)
Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Ron sent the owl out last night. He didn’t write much. He knew he didn��t have to. 
Fred and George would do as they were told, for once knowing the severity and seriousness of his requests. 
So now, he sat anxiously by his window awaiting their reply. 
When he woke up the next morning and saw an owl tapping at his window with a small parcel, he almost leaped in excitement. 
However, as he read the tag from his Mum and Dad, his face dropped in disappointment. He almost forgot, he’s seventeen today. 
Seventeen is a big deal in the wizarding world. You’re free to do magic outside of school, you can get an apparating license. He’s a legal adult. He can buy his own flat, drop out of school, get married, have free reign of his vault down at Gringotts. 
He should be excited. Over the moon with this new found freedom. 
But he’s not. 
The one thing he wants, it seems that no one can give him. 
The second best thing to that, Fred and George’s response, has yet to come. 
Bugger Birthday’s he thought as he collapsed back on his bed. 
He’d left the dining hall moments ago. The mass of Gryffindor begged him to stay for pudding, saying it was his birthday after all, but he declined. Made up some barmy lie that his Mum sent him some candy he wanted to have at. He promised them he’d meet them in the common room in an hour. 
Another lie. 
He was missing Hermione more than ever today. It was his first birthday in what, six years, that she wasn’t around to give him a gift. 
It would probably have been some book. He would’ve pretended he wouldn’t read it, but he would. He always did. 
There’s even a stack of all the ones he’s gifted them under his bed at the Burrow. He scanned through them all at least three times. Something about her picking out the various texts whilst she thinks of him is just so special. 
Merlin, I’m mental.  
He shakes his head trying to veer his thoughts from what could have been today. Instead he directs his mind to something he can understand. Something that’s simple enough, routine. 
You’re hungry. You eat. You wait. You’re hungry again. You keep eating. And so on. 
And right now his stomach is letting out a frustrated grumble at his decision to skip tonight’s pudding. 
For second he can’t even remember why he’d do such a- oh yeah. That’s why. 
Not wanting to explain to anyone, namely Harry, why he left in the first place, he opts for raiding his trunk in hopes to find something from Honeydukes. 
After rummaging through jumpers, parchment, and other miscellaneous items he closes the thing with a defeated huff. 
His eyes soon land on Harry’s trunk. They share just about everything. They’ve raided one another’s things before. What’s mine is his, what’s his is mine. 
After all, he can’t be upset. It is my birthday, Ron thought. 
He flung open his friend's trunk and spent some time in there, narrowly avoiding any contact with his best mates underwear. 
Finally, just when Ron reached the bottom he spotted them. 
Gotcha. 
For a brief moment he held them up and began squishing them, as if to test their density. He wondered why Harry didn’t have at them, he knew he was quite fond of the little things. 
Shrugging he unwrapped it and popped one in his mouth. 
After chewing thoughtfully for a few moments and deciding they weren’t spoiled, like he originally thought. 
Ron swallowed the chocolate cauldron. 
...
It had been twenty minutes since Harry entered the common room and Ron still didn’t come down. He had rightfully so been worried for his best mate as of late, and skipping pudding on any day, his birthday no less? Unheard of. 
Merlin, is this how he and Hermione always feel about me? 
Dismissing the thought, he trudged up the boys dormitory step and pushed open the door to their room. 
There he found Ron, sitting cross legged on the bed, a dreamy look on his face. It’s the happiest he’s seen him look in months. 
“Ron?” He called out, cautiously stepping further into the room. 
“Harry!” He called excitedly from the bed, jumping to his feet and smiling. 
“Hey...” he replied nervously. 
“Have you seen her?” The ginger asked almost anxiously. 
The chosen one was taken aback, “no, what? We just talked about this.” 
Ron looked confused, “we did? Well, where is she?” He asked eagerly, teetering anger and impatience. However, still looking rather well-drunk. 
“Ron what?” He shook his head, “did Fred and George send you Fire whiskey? You’re acting well-pissed.” The chosen one said. 
Before Ron could respond, something donned on Harry, “wait if they sent you fire whiskey, that means they sent you a reply. Meaning they know-“
Harry was soon stopped by a plush pillow thunking onto his head. 
“Focus Harry! Where is she?” He demanded, with a slight scowl, eyes still clouded. 
“Ron I just said-“ he watches as Weasley tosses the pillow onto the bed, leading atop foil wrappers. 
Glimmering gold foil wrappers surrounding his best mate's bed. 
Hermione’s voice distantly rang through his head: “That’s Romilda Vane. Apparently she’s trying to smuggle you a love potion.”
That along with flashes of a pink card donned in hearts and a sack of chocolate cauldrons flash behind his eyes.
Buggering fuck- 
“Ron, is this about Romilda?” Harry decides to ask carefully. 
Any anger soon leaves the other boy's face as a wistful smile takes over, “of course it is Harry, when is it not?” He sighs. 
Well, considering before this year I haven’t heard about her since Dean took her to the ball... never. He refrains from saying.  
“You’ve got to help me find her! Please Harry, will you? Please!” Ron pathetically dropped to one knee and clutched the edges of his friends shirt sleeves. 
Harry stares down a little bewildered. It was odd to see Ron in such a state and he knew he’d need to fix this fast. 
Knowing he couldn’t do it on his own, he weighed his options. 
Dumbledore was probably way too busy. McGonagall would freak out. 
This was a love potion after all, he could suppose a potions master would do. 
Trouble is, he doesn’t fancy waltzing around the dungeons or talking to Snape. On the other hand, he and Slughorn did have a rather tense conversation earlier about his relationship to Tom Riddle. 
Harry knew he had to push aside any awkwardness for Ron’s sake and decided on what to do. 
“Help me find her, please? She’d want me to find her.” Ron states, not happy with Harry’s silence. 
The Boy-Who-Lived gulp, he couldn’t help but hear Ron’s pained voice in the back of his mind telling him Hermione asked him to find her. 
‘Come find me.’
That’s what Ron said her last words to him were. 
He swallows the bile in his throat, preparing a tale, “come on, I heard Romilda is with Slughorn-“
“She’s with Slughorn? He’s way too old! He doesn’t love her like-“ 
“No, Ron, he's tutoring her.” Though a lie, this didn’t satisfy the ginger, “if Romilda does bad in potions then she can’t graduate. Then how will you guys start your lives together?” Merlin, he can't believe these words are leaving his mouth. 
“You’re right Harry! Come on, let’s go find her.” Ron stood now, but swayed a bit. 
Harry grabbed onto his shoulders for a bit of support. As the chosen one ushered his love sick friend from the room, he failed to notice the pecking of Fred and George’s owl on the window. 
...
Harry wrapped his knuckles on Slughorn’s door, hoping he’d be awake. 
Thankfully, after a moment, he heard shuffling. 
The small window through the door opened, “Harry?” The potions teacher questioned, soon his face dropped, “if this is about-“
“No sir!” He insisted, “I’m sorry to bother you so late, I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important, but it seems as if-“ 
“Harry, is she there?” Ron called loudly from a few feet behind.
Slughorn’s eyes widened, failing to notice Weasley’s presence, “it seems as if Ron accidentally took a love potion. I was hoping you may have a cure.” 
Horace’s eyes again flicked to the red heads. He noticed the unmistakable dazed look only a strong potion could cause and sighed. 
“Come in, I’ll be sure to fix Rodney right up. Harry chooses not to harp on the fact he messed up his name, despite only speaking it seconds ago, and turns to Ron. 
“Romilda had to get something from her dorm, but she’ll be back soon. Let’s wait for her in here. So she’ll know where you are.” Harry lies, knowing the fact Romilda Vane wouldn’t be inside would anger his love struck friend. 
Deafly, the ginger saunters through the now open door as Harry places him on the brown couch in the center of the room.  
Ron’s hands appear to be longing to hold something, as he desperately grasps at the air. Sighing, Harry shoves a pillow into his arms, seeing that had worked when he found him earlier. 
“I’m sorry again for this and earlier.” Harry told his Professor, walking to where he was mixing something. 
Slughorn tuts, “nonsense, water under the bridge. I’m happy to help you and your friend. It’s been a while since I’ve mixed a remedy for this, it’s quite fun!” He admits, throwing in some powder that turns the liquid a violet color. 
The dark haired boy can’t help but smirk, a bit amused by the old man's excitement. 
“Tell me boy, how did Rhodes find himself accidentally taking a love potion?” 
Biting his tongue on correcting Slughorn, Harry opted to explain, “He had left the great hall early. It is his birthday-“
“Birthday! Very important, seventeen is he?” Slughorn questions. Funny how he could get Ron’s age, but not name, correct. 
He nods, “yeah, well, I reckon he wanted some candy or something for it, dunno. I had some spiked with a love potion, he took it by mistake.” 
Thankfully, the professor didn’t seem to question exactly why Harry had spiked candies and instead handed him a glass. 
“Unfortunate on his seventeenth of all days! But you give him this and Ren will have time to
spare to celebrate.” 
Harry smiled gratefully, “cheers.” He joked before walking to the couch. “Ron?” He said tentatively. 
His blue eyes seemed to snap from a trance, “Oi Harry, you told me she’d be here!” He exclaimed fussily. 
A little annoyed, Potter sighs, “I know I did, but she told me she needs you to drink this first.” 
Funny enough, Ron doesn’t question it because of his current state and downs the whole thing in a few gulps. 
Just moments later, the glossed over look leaves his eyes, as his lips drop from their smile. 
“Merlin, what happened to me?” He groaned sadly. 
“Love potion.” Harry said simply, just as Slughorn joined them. 
“I feel really-Harry, did you hear anything about Hermione?” Ron asked, sounding so sad, clearly his mind was a bit foggy since he asked in front of Slughorn. 
“Miss Granger, I thought he was thinking about Romilda Vane?” Slughorn whispered loud enough Ron would’ve heard, had he been paying attention. 
Harry shook his head, not wanting to delve into the topic, “is he okay?” 
“Just needs a pick me up. It’s a bit drastic going from such a high to this. So what I’ll it be, Roy?” 
This seems to snap Ron’s attention. 
“Butter beer. Wine. Matured Mead.” He lists, picking up the latter, “I had other plans for this, but it feels appropriate. It is your birthday after all Ryan.” He winks. 
“Right...” Ron trails, still feeling rather down. 
Slughorn pours three glasses. Handing two to Harry, who passes the dark liquid to Ron. 
“Here’s a toast to,” the old man thought for a moment, “another year of life!” Slughorn and Harry clink glasses. 
Ron however, doesn’t wait, and takes a large sip of his. 
“Happy Birthday Ro-“ 
Before the potions master can finish his sentence a large thud sounds. 
At his and Harry’s feet, is a writhing Ron. 
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kineticallyanywhere · 4 years
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jupiterlandings replied to your post: if/when you start listening to Dungeons and...
I am desperately looking for a new dnd podcast, what is this one about and does it have an traumatic/weird Eldritch horror stuff that many other podcasts seem to suffer from?
Dungeons and Daddies (Not[?] a BDSM podcast) is an actual play dnd podcast (barley) about 4 dads from our world--a Coach Dad, and Rock and Roll Dad, a Hippie Nature Dad, and an Awkward Step-Dad--who are flung into the Forgotten Realms and must now go on a quest to rescue their lost sons. “Quest” is a rather majestic word for the antics they get up to, though. 
This podcast can rip into your feelings, but it is, at it’s core and at most layers past the core, a comedy podcast. The most recent episode (as many episodes before it) had me laughing so hard I was starting to cry. The sense of humor is explicitly dumb, but not in a Dumb way, yknow? Not in the way that makes you feel stupid for listening, but in a way that’s just... honestly I’m still trying to figure it out. Life is a matter of tastes, but I love it
The tone is a little bit like throwing pudding in an open blender, but I can’t say there’s not some trauma related things in there, cause it is fundamentally about dads, and while our main dads may not be Great Dads, there are some characters that really are Bad Dads. But the eldritch horrors that may or may not be involved are for the most part unrelated to that, and are [so far] only side-antagonists. because The Dads physically cannot stop getting into the stupidest situations possible. and somehow defeating wildly-dangerous bosses with them.
The Magnus Archives is the abyss, Dungeons and Daddies is the hello kitty roller skate. I gave them 50 dollars and 40 cents. 
imo they hit their stride at the end of episode 3, if you have first-doubts and need a point to decide if you’re Going In. There’s only 34.5.5 episode out right now, which is comparatively bingable, I’d say. Each episode is around an hour long, though the first few are longer. 
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solastia · 4 years
Text
Shadow Of You | 1
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Pairing: Seokjin x Jungkook 
Summary: Alpha Seokjin is sixteen when his best friend’s baby brother is born. When he finally gets to visit and meet the new baby Jungkook, he’s dismayed to discover the infant is his true mate. Or: Seokjin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Long Wait For His Mate. 
Word Count: 1,674
A/N: Surprise! Okay, I will say this before anything else, this is not going to be taboo. He’s going to wait for a long ass time for Jungkook to grow up like a good boy. And that means...lots and lots of angst ;) 
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Kim Seokjin’s life was a blessed one. 
The Sixteen year old Alpha very much enjoyed the fact that his life was pretty fulfilling and going to plan.
He was doing well in school and was probably going to graduate number two in his whole class - only because Kim Namjoon was his friend and he was generous enough to let him be number one. He had three of the best friends anyone could have and they’d stuck with him since kindergarten. He was already on the waiting list for the same medical school that his own father had attended. And best of all, Choi Mina - the prettiest girl in their entire class - had agreed to go to the arcade with him this weekend.
Jin brought his overfilled tray to the large table that his group of friends had claimed as their own in the school cafeteria, the heathens circling his three pudding cups like vultures. Hoseok was nearly successful in grabbing one, but Jin managed to smack it out of his hands. He knew he wasn’t going to eat all three, but he liked to make them work for it before he finally gave one up.
Min Yoongi - his best friend in the entire world - was the only one that hadn’t tried to lunge for Jin’s tray (mostly because the cafeteria lady was fond of him and always snuck him an extra of his own). Instead, he kept showing off pictures of his new baby brother to the fascinated Namjoon. 
“So when are we allowed to come back over to your house, Yoongi? You have the best entertainment system out of us all,” Hoseok asked, munching on a stolen French fry that Jin had pretended not to see him take.
Yoongi shrugs. “Whenever. Ma says it’s cool now as long as we wash our hands before touching the baby.”
“So, we can come over after school? You can finally show me the fancy camera your dad got you. Naturally, I expect to be your first model,” Seokjin grins.
Yoongi nods and slides his own extra pudding cup towards Namjoon. While blushing? Interesting. Jin files this information to tease Yoongi about later. 
“Sadly for you, Jungkookie has that title. But yeah, I’ll send Ma a message and she’ll buy us a pizza or something. She’ll be excited to show him off. She loves that he’s a cute little omega and she’s no longer outnumbered.”
Everyone spends the rest of the school day excited and anxious for it to be over. Yoongi’s house was the best one to hang out in since his mom was super chill and always made them lots of food. 
Seokjin personally thought of the Min household as a sort of sanctuary. He did have a pretty great life, but he’d admit his parents could be pretty harsh sometimes. They expected him to act and want certain things, and while he always did his best, he still felt like he could breathe a little better when he was away from them. 
Unfortunately, all the boys had been asked to give the Min’s space for a few weeks to let Yoongi’s mom recover from the birth and let the baby settle. Seokjin had been tempted to climb through Yoongi’s window a few times to get away from home, but he was ultimately more afraid of disappointing his Mama Min (as she’d insisted he’d started calling her back when he was a toddler himself) than anything else. Seokjin had always had the honor of being one of her favorites and he’d rather choke under the pressure at home than be the one to make her upset. Although, he knew that if he’d simply asked nicely she would have allowed him over anyway, but he’d wanted her to have some space. 
Needless to say, he was thrilled to be able to be allowed back over there. His own mother had been talking about marriage meetings already, wanting him to have a handful of girls from acceptable families to pick from. Her idea was that if he got engaged before medical school that would be one less thing he’d have to worry about, and of course the family would have peace of mind. The fact that the name most thrown about was the daughter of the Chief of staff at his father’s hospital was not lost on him. He was smart enough not to tell his mother about his upcoming date with Choi Mina. Though pretty and sweet, her dad was simply a teacher. She wouldn’t get mother’s approval, he knew. 
When school was over, they all raced towards Jin’s Jaguar and piled in. He’d been the first one to turn sixteen and received the car on his birthday, so he’d become the official driver for his group of friends. He didn’t mind much. Everywhere they went he was going to, so really it just saved them a lot of time. He could do without Hoseok always trying to hotbox during their lunch though. 
When he finally drove into his usual space in front of the modest-sized home, it was like a weight was finally pulled off his chest and he could breathe freely. Here, he was simply Jin. No expectations, no demands. Just some time with his friends, maybe helping Mama Min in the kitchen, maybe argue politics a little with Yoongi’s dad. 
As they all piled out of the car, he popped open the trunk and snuck around to pull out the big bag of toys he’d been keeping in there since baby Jungkook was born. He was determined to become the little tyke’s favorite Uncle and what better time to start than in the beginning. Hoseok and Namjoon eyed his bag like they were worried they’d missed some unwritten rule that said you had to bring a gift and Jin knew he was already well on his way to winning already. 
As soon as Yoongi flung open the door, Jin began to feel uneasy. Something was...wrong? No. He wasn’t sure wrong was the word...but something was happening. Something with that scent maybe? He’d smelled it on Yoongi before, but it had always been light. A sweet strawberry scent with a milky undertone that he’d figured belonged to Yoongi’s new omega brother. He’d thought it a really nice smell and enjoyed it when Yoongi would cuddle up with him and he could scent it on him. 
This was different. This was the full straight from the tap scent and something about it made him feel a little antsy. He trailed behind the rest of the guys, letting them greet Yoongi’s parents first. They seemed thrilled to see them all, as they sat on their living room couch and ushered the boys over. 
Mama Min spotted him first, waving him closer with her free hand. She smiled up at him and gently raised the wrapped bundle in her arms. 
“Here, Jinnie. You hold him first while I finish setting up dinner. I trust you the most not to drop him.”
Without giving him a chance to protest, she pulled the bag of toys out of his hand and pushed the baby towards him. On instinct, he cradled the infant close to him, the sweet scent of him tickling his nose. He was easily able to hold the entire body across one arm and was so amazed at how tiny he seemed. 
Curiosity was urging him to peel back the blanket so he could see the baby’s face. He wondered if the little thing had the Min nose. He loved to annoy Yoongi with booping his little button nose and he was looking forward to doing it to someone else. 
One long finger peeled the blanket away from the infant’s face and his little brown eyes locked onto Jin’s own as they stared at each other. 
And just like that, Kim Seokjin’s blessed life came to a crashing halt. 
He could feel as his most primal urges slowly came forward, taking over his conscious. He wanted to protect this little infant with his very life. No one could hurt him, no one could touch him. If anyone so much as looked at this baby wrong, he would kill them. He was Seokjin’s. 
“Dude, Seok. Your eyes are red. Why the fuck are you going alpha right now?” 
Jin blinked at Yoongi, trying to grasp what the other Alpha was saying to him. 
Was he a threat? 
Jin sniffed at him a little. No. Family. Safe. 
“Seokjin? Is everything alright?” 
Mama Min’s concerned expression was what finally got through to him. He fought to clear his head, looking down to make sure he hadn’t hurt the baby. He was at war with his own mind, wanting to give her the baby and make a run for it, but also something wanted him to protect Jungkook even from his own mother. 
Mine
Mama Min’s shocked face as he lowly growled was the last straw. Using the last shred of self-control he was able to conjure up, he quickly shoved the bundle into her arms and jogged towards the door. 
He refused to stop, even for his friends calling his name or Mama Min telling him to wait. Even when the baby started wailing and every cell in his body was demanding he turn around and care for the infant. 
Because he’d just met his true mate.
And he was only six weeks old. 
Kim Seokjin’s life was a cursed one. 
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dustyphantom · 4 years
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Fluffy Pudding
Rated T for minor language
Prompt: Ambrosia
Pairing: Stingue
Rogue frowned, looking over at the sheet of paper for the umpteenth time. He’d never been any good at baking, but this should be easy enough even for him. But still, today was Sting’s birthday, and he couldn’t risk getting anything wrong.
He had gotten heavy whipping cream, right? Did he have enough coconut? Had he gotten the right type of milk. It called for 2% milk, would it be alright if he used 12% instead?
He put the milk and the pudding powder into a blender. He’d never used one of these before, but he supposed it couldn’t be that difficult. He looked at the settings on the side, numbered from 1 to 10. 10 must be the lowest speed, so he flicked the little lever as far as it would go, and promptly discovered that 10 was, in fact, not the lowest setting. Rogue let out an alarmed screech as milk and powder was promptly flung out of the bowl, splatting against the wall behind him. He tried to stand up from his crouching position, only to have the creamy substance flung across his face. He wiped it from his face before making his way over to the machine, quickly shutting it off. Well, there would be less than originally planned, but hopefully there would still be enough for the two of them.
Well, at least pudding was fully whisked. He wiped the lost pudding off the wall and his sleeves, licking it off his fingers. It wasn’t that sweet. But, then again, it was just milk and powder. He still had to add all the fruit.
Next he had to add honey, vanilla, and… orange zest? But he’d gotten clementines? Would it still be good? Well, he had nothing else, so it would have to. This time, he was very careful as he turned on the blender, flinching as he turned it onto the lowest setting. It was taking a while to mix, but he wasn’t going to risk turning it up any higher.
After that, it said to… fold in the whipped cream? What did that mean? He imagined it would be difficult to fold the substance like one would a shirt, so how was he supposed to add it? He took the bowl out of the blender, picking up a flat, rubbery paddle-like tool with a wooden handle. In the end, he resorted to dumping the cream in and mixing it in by pushing the pudding over it repeatedly until it was fully mixed in. There. That was sort of like folding, right?
Okay, that was the last of the hard work. Now he just had to put into cups and make it look pretty.
He promptly discovered that making food look pretty was not the easy part. He planned, drew it out at least three times as it chilled, trying to think of the perfect way to place the banana and clementine and coconut on top. When he thought he finally had an idea, he pulled the deserts out of the refrigerator. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his hands steady, carefully, carefully placing the fruits on top. All was going well until he got to the clementines. Just as he was about to put the final pieces in place, Lector flung open the door, causing him to lose focus and drop the little slices of fruit.
“Hey Rogue! Whatcha doin’?”
“Lector! Can’t you be quiet for one moment?” Rogue snapped.
“Jeez, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” the exceed responded, crossing his arms defensively.
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he apologised, “I’m making something for Sting, and it’s more difficult than I thought.”
Lector looked down at the ambrosias, “Is that it?”
“It doesn’t look that bad, does it?”
The cat frowned, “I mean, I’ve seen worse.”
Rogue sighed, “I knew it. I shouldn’t have even tried.”
“Hey, don’t get all down in the dumps! I’m sure Sting’ll love it as longs as it tastes good,” Lector comforted, “And if you failed so bad it tastes horrible too, he’ll appreciate the effort you put into it.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Right, sorry.”
“So, do you know when Sting will be home?”
“He said around six-thirty, but you know how he is.”
“Right. I’ll have dinner ready by seven-thirty.”
Rogue put the ambrosias back in the fridge before pulling out a box of spaghetti. Although he wasn’t a talented cook, he knew well enough how to make a box of pasta.
It was a few hours of trying to make spaghetti look fancy later when Sting finally returned, “I’m home! Sorry I took so long!”
“Welcome back,” Rogue responded, greeting his boyfriend with a quick peck.
Sting looked over the Shadow Dragon’s shoulder at the dinner he had prepared, sitting on the table with intricately folded napkins and a vase of flowers, “Whoa. Should I get changed before we eat?”
“No, it’s alright, It’s just pasta,” Rogue said, “Happy Birthday.”
“Aww, thanks Babe. This is so nice!”
“It’s nothing special,” Rogue chuckled, looking away as a blush rose in his cheeks.
“Of course it’s special! Come on now, let’s eat!”
The two chatted happily as they ate, Sting talking excitedly about the mission he had taken that day, and Rogue listening intently. Although it was a relatively small dinner, they kept chatting for more than an hour before the Shadow Dragon finally stopped them.
“Actually, I-uh… I made something else for you,” he said, “It’s probably not great, but I thought you might like it.”
“Alright, you’ve got my attention,” Sting said, resting his chin in his palms.
Rogue nodded, making his way over to the fridge, hoping, praying that nothing had happened to the desserts he had spent so much time making. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that they were unharmed, taking the stems of the wine glasses he had put them in and taking them to the table.
“Rogue… Is that what I think it is?”
He nodded, “I doubt it’s any good, but I made ambrosia for you.”
“Are you kidding? This looks amazing!” Sting cheered, grinning wider than the Shadow Dragon thought humanly possible, “Come on, let’s eat!”
Rogue watched as Sting took his first bite, internally cringing. He was going to hate it, and then he’d be upset and disappointed and Rogue would look like a fool and-
The White Dragon’s eyes lit up, “Oh my gods, you made this?!”
“Is it really that bad?”
“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted!”
Rogue stood up, taken aback, “You’re joking, right?”
Sting shook his head, “Taste it! Gods, if I knew you were this good of a cook…”
Hesitantly, the Shadow Dragon took a bite. He expected it to be bitter, bland or just plain disgusting. But instead, it was an explosion of sweet, creamy pudding and tangy orange zest. The coconut and almond sprinkled on top added a nutty flavor. He gave a hum of approval before swallowing it down, “I guess it’s not that bad.”
“Come on, stop short changing yourself! This is the best!”
Rogue smiled, sure his cheeks were a bright shade of pink, “Okay, fine. It’s pretty good.”
Sting pulled the Shadow Dragon over the table, pressing their lips together in a deep kiss. Rogue slowly allowed himself to relax into his boyfriend, running a hand through the White Dragon’s fluffy hair. His eyes fluttered open when Sting pulled back, looking intently into his boyfriend’s eyes.
“Stop saying you suck at everything, okay? You’re wonderful, and you’re really talented. Be as great as Frosch thinks you are.”
Rogue laughed, and Sting kissed him again, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You’re so cute when you laugh.”
“Wait. Speaking of Frosch, where are they?” The Shadow Dragon asked, looking around for his companion.
“They’ll be here soon. I just sent them to pick up the engagement ring.”
It took Rogue a few minutes to process what his boyfriend had just said.
Three.
Two.
One.
“What?”
“Crap! Goddammit, it was supposed to be a surprise!” Sting cursed, “I’m sorry, I-I mean…”
“You… were going to propose.”
“I still am, if that’s alright.”
Rogue stood still as the White Dragon took a step back. He watched as his boyfriend slowly got down on one knee, taking Rogue’s hands in his own, “I know this may seem a bit out of the blue but,” Sting took a deep breath, his eyes shining, “Rogue, will you marry me?”
The Shadow Dragon could feel tears welling in the corners of his eyes, “Yes. I will. I do. Whatever. I love you, Sting.”
The White Dragon shot to his feet, throwing his arms around Rogue, pulling him as close as he could, laughing as he cried, “Gods, I love you too. So much.”
Just then, Frosch flew in the door, a little box in his hands, “Sting! I got it!” The exceed blinked, confused for a second, “Hey, I thought you were going to wait for me.”
The White Dragon smiled, “Sorry, buddy. I just got a little carried away,” he looked down at the ambrosia still sitting on the table, “Can I repay you with some sweets?”
@ft-wwtdp
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niiwa-angel · 5 years
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Late At Night
// Authors Note. mentions of child abuse, bed wetting, and hospitalization, if this offends you this story isn’t for you. also I’m not law major nor a doctor so take any medical or legal things in here with a grain of salt. This story also has a same sex couple, if this is going to make you scream at me, kindly piss off. requests and feed back are always welcome.// 
The house was quiet, the street outside ethereally silent except for the distant sounds of the busy city still wide awake despite the hour, somewhere between very late or very early and entirely dependent on who was asked. A lone car driving on the empty suburban street broke the silence as the driver slowly took the curve, watching for any neighborhood pets that may be patrolling the area. While the outside was quiet, the inside of the car certainly wasn’t, as the driver’s music was turned up to fifteen while Queens “We Will Rock You” blasted from the speakers of the small car. Hal Jordan mouthed along to the lyrics of his favorite song, removing a hand from the wheel to massage his left eye as he slowly backed into his driveway, shutting the music off before opening the door. “The last thing I want is to wake the neighborhood.” He muttered to himself, pulling his military bag out from its place in the backseat. He knew that Ms. Earwood across the street would lecture him for hours if he were to let the sound of his music escape the confines of the car, her white hair pulled into a severe bun and her hobbled gait always reminded Hal of the old lady who always protected tweedy bird in looney tunes, is that woman was a busy body who found his “lifestyle” a detriment to society as a whole. Hal flung his bag over his shoulder while he fumbled with his keys, finally finding the one that opened the front door and pushing his way into the dark entryway, careful not to trip on the shoes littering the floor.
“I thought I told Wally to keep his shoes in the closet.” he whispered to himself with a quiet chuckle as he set his bag on the floor near the door. ‘I’ll fix that at a decent hour, right now I need food, a shower and my bed!’ he thought, making his way to the kitchen. There wasn’t much in the fridge, which wasn’t much of a surprise with two speedsters with accelerated metabolism living in the house and one of them was only eight, so he was always hungry. ‘And a real pain to keep up with.’ He mused, remembering how many times he almost lost his adopted nephew at various public locations, but he managed to find a bowl of pasta, which he tossed in the microwave and grabbed a glass of water to wait for the food to be warm. As an afterthought, he decided to check on the sleeping patrons in the house, heading to the master bedroom first, pushing the door forward a little to peek in at the disheveled mess of blond hair on the pillow before moving to the red door down the hall. Hal made sure to step lightly near his nephews room, Wally was a very light sleeper, an unfortunate left over from his time in his parents care. Hal didn’t know entirely what went down in that house only that his husband had gotten a call from his sister, Iris, that Wally was in the hospital and the doctors needed his closest relatives there.
//Flash Back//
He had thrown together an overnight bag for himself and Barry before driving the hour long trip to the hospital in Kansas City from Central in about 45 minutes, probably breaking every traffic law in the state to get to the little boy that meant to such to both men. Hal had been expecting a car accident, or a random kitchen disaster that had put the whole family in the hospital, instead they saw little Wally, dwarfed by the large hospital bed, in a medically induced coma to try and reduce the swelling in his brain from a blow to the head from his own father. It had been a hard day until the doctors brought Wally out of the coma, and then Barry and Iris had to have a serious discussion about who would take care of Wally, as no one was letting their sweet, kind hearted nephew go into the harsh treatment that is the American Foster Care system, Iris stressed that because of her job, she would be an unreliable guardian, so it was Barry and Hal who had adopted Wally into their home. Currently, Rudolf West was serving a fifteen year battery and assault charge as well as a twenty year attempted murder, which their lawyer had gotten tacked on and was able to convince the jury of, their lawyer was an anonymous gift from a not so local bat, as well as making sure that Hal and Barry won the custody case.
It had taken months to get Wally to adjust to their home, random things seemed to set him off into a panic, he wouldn’t eat unless given expressed permission even if the food was placed right in front of him, and any time either Hal or Barry raised their voices even just in a joking conversation the boy would start to get twitchy. After speaking to a specialist, they learned that these were likely knee jerk reactions that had probably once been the difference between getting hit and being safe, and given that those were his only tools he knew how to use, he was still using them, so Hal and Barry had to learn to look a little closer to see what spooked their nephew. For Barry, it was easier, he looked closely at things for a living, and soon recognized that Wally reacted to hand expressions, raised voices and the garage door opening and had started to work on reconditioning these things from bad to good.
Hal on the other hand, had some difficulty, it had often seemed like Wally had liked Barry better then him. It wasn’t until he noticed that there were some similarities between them that to an adult might not seem like much, but to a child were crucial. Hal liked to have a beer when he came home, Wally’s dad had often been drinking before or during a beating, Hal hooked his right thumb in his belt as his comfortable standing position, Wally’s dad stood like that before using his belt as a weapon, Hal raised his hands when he was passionate about what he was talking about, Wally’s dad raised his hands to do harm. It had taken a lot of time and patience before Wally had even spoken above a whisper to his uncles. The first time Wally asked to be held had been eight and a half months into living with them and Hal had let Wally see his tears, let him see how it wasn’t shameful to show emotions, and had sat with Wally in his arms for a solid hour, just holding him to his chest, tucked firmly under his chin.
//Back to Present//
The nest of red hair mixed well with the bright red of the room, Hal could see that Wally was curled onto his side, facing away from the door and knew that his nephew likely had his batman plushy tucked into his arm. With a soft smile, Hal closed the door and went back downstairs to eat his pasta. Fifteen minutes later, Hal made his way up the stairs and was about to push his way into the master bedroom when he saw a light coming from down the hall. Slowly making his way to the door from which it was coming from, Hal could make out soft sobs from behind it, knocking gently, he heard a scared gasp and a quiet “yes.” Hal slowly opened the door to see Wally sitting up, tears streaming down his face and his bedside lamp turned on, making his way over to the young boy’s bed. “Hey Hot-Rod.” He whispered, taking a seat on the edge of the foot of the bed. Wally bit his lip. “Hey Uncle Hal. I uh, I didn’t know you were home.” “I wasn’t till about half an hour ago.” “Oh.” Wally mused, looking down at his hands. Hal knew that look, it was the “I’m really uncomfortable and would like you to either skip to the point or leave me alone” face. Deciding on the primary, Hal bit the bullet. “Why are you awake Hot-Rod?” he asked, making sure to look authoritative but not intimidating. Wally squirmed a little and the muttered. “I, I had a bad dream.” “What about?’ Hal asked, despite having a pretty good idea what about. “About dad, he was yelling,” Wally sobbed, hiccuping slightly, “He was saying I was a, a mis- mistake. And that no one would ever want me, and that I’m a bad kid!”
Hal inhaled deeply, he wanted to rant, to tell his kid that his father was a piece of shit alcoholic whose brain was too destroyed by his own habits to have an intelligent thought. But that wouldn’t help Wally, so instead he put his hand on his boy’s shoulder, ensuring he had his full attention. “Listen to me Wallace West, you are not unwanted. You’re Uncle Barry and I love you so, so much. It would break our hearts if we ever lost you. And you may make mistakes from time to time, but that does not make you a bad kid, everyone makes mistakes, very few of them make people unlovable.” Hal really wished that this conversation were happening at a better hour because his brain was basically pudding, but the message seemed to get through to Wally because the kid nodded.
“Anything else on your mind squirt? Anything you need off your chest?” Hal pushed, and instantly Wally went pale and started to stammer.
“Promise you won’t be mad?” he asked, knowing on his lip again.
“I promise kiddo.” Wally seemed to relax a little and took a little breath.
“I, I wet the bed. I’m really sorry Uncle Hal, it was an accident, I won’t do it again, I pro-“ Hal raised a hand to cut off Wally’s rambling.
“It’s alright love, it was an accident, it happens to everyone at some point. Let’s get you cleaned up okay?” Wally nodded, and Hal slipped his hands under Wally’s arms, hoisting him up onto his hip, before grabbing a fresh pair of pajamas from his drawers. Hal took Wally to the bathroom and drew him a small bath, just around three inches of warm water.
“Okay kid, if you get yourself cleaned up, I’ll get your sheets in the washer and they should be okay for tomorrow, Okay?” Hal asked, receiving a small nod from the young redhead.
Hal quickly stripped the bed, throwing everything into the washing machine and setting a timer for it before returning to the bathroom. He knocked to announce himself, and slowly stepped in. Wally was wrapped in a fluffy towel on the floor, eyes half shut and his head drooping, Hal laughed and went over to support him
. “Hey Hot-Rod. Let’s just get you into some PJ’s and then you can sleep in okay?” He got a small nod in return, and helped dry the child off and step into some warm Flash pajamas. Scooping Wally up, he carried him to the master bedroom, which dismayed Wally a bit.
“But my room is over there.” He slurred, his arm moving lazily to point to his door. Hal smiled and rubbed his back. “I know kiddo, but it’s late and I really don’t want to have to make a bed, so I was thinking we could just have a sleep over. Alright?” Hal didn’t get a verbal response, just Wally curling closer to him, which he took as a yes. Hal turned to use his back to push open the bedroom door, quietly walking to the bed and drawing the covers back and placing Wally against Barry, before tucking both of them in and turning to the on suite bathroom. “Where are you going?” Wally rasped from his place in the bed, big green eyes peeking out from the pearly comforter. “I just gotta shower and change Hot-Rod, then I’ll be right there.” Wally nodded and laid his head down, while Hal went to take a shower.
//Ten minutes Later//
Hal exited the bathroom while shaking out his damp hair, he had changed from his civvies into a pair of boxer shorts. Looking into his bed he almost laughed out loud at the sight of Wally, curled into Barry’s arms, while Barry had a protective hand on the back of Wally’s head. Hal carefully slipped into the covers just as Barry opened his eyes. “Hey.” “Hey yourself.” Hal whispered. “There’s a Wally I our bed.” Barry teased, bringing the hand that wasn’t on Wally’s head over the boy to latch onto Hal’s. “There is a Wally in out bed.” Hal agreed, pulling his lover and their kid closer to him, tucking Wally beneath his chin, and touching his forehead with Barry’s. “Is he okay?” Barry whispered, his breath teasing the red locks of hair in front of him. “He will be Love, it’ll take some time, but he’ll be okay.” Hal pressed a kiss to the top of Wally’s head and pressed another to Barry’s forehead, wrapping his arms around them and hugging them tight, falling asleep to the sound of the Scarlet Speedster and his young nephews breathing. The entire family slept on. 
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