#she was a child! she was in a new world with no idea! she was in a whole nother house! and its not her fucking job to fix him! he joined th
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A bit ago I did a whole-ass set of warlocks based on D&D 5e subclasses - mostly for fun and also because my RP group was planning a warlock game. I didn't HAVE to draw one of each but doing so DID help me decide which one I wanted to play (this is, to note, why the characters are all pretty fem-coded - because that's my favorite to RP)
Anyway, after I drew them all, folks asked if I'd do other classes too. And I was like, maybe? But, sorcerer did sound fun to do this with so over the last few months I've been working on them kinda on the side while I put most my energy in, like, the commissions I need to finish lol. But here, a bunch of theoretical sorcerers I'd personally play in a game:
Let's start us off with Iris, a half-elf who'd be living a pretty normal life in a normal job (I was thinking she was probably a waitress or somethin) until she finds something weird - a piece of a meteor or something, you know how it goes. Suddenly she has powers, and that's where her adventure would begin
More sorcerers under the cut!
Tally I struggled with because, as it turns out, little mechanical fairy wings are complicated to draw. BUT also fun - I liked the idea of a fairy who's lost her wings and while she's trapped in the material plane she befriends a clockmaker who builds her little wings for her and eventually her magic ends up kind of syncing up with the mechanical way he teaches her about the world
Elysia was actually the last one I drew, since I have a DIFFERENT Divine Soul sorcerer I've already designed and want to play as a priority, but then I happened to see something about Greek gods while watching TV one day and thought, oh hey, that'd be a fun way to play with a divinity-themed sorcerer - maybe a musician that caught the affections of a god who blessed her with magic
Cherish is a cheerful tiefling working at an inn with her former-adventurer mother. We can guess what sort of things her mother got up to in her adventure since she ended up raising a child with some mysteriously draconic features
NGL Aine was just a way for me to play with some of the inspirations I used to cling to as a kid. Sailor Moon and other various bits of anime and JRPGs and such that I loved in my youth and used a LOT to inspire art. I wanted to remember that - and a catgirl wearing too many belts sounded perfect for that
Leila is probably my weirdest - she's SPECIFIC, like if there's a campaign set in the Shadowfell or something, I imagined a maid working in a mansion that gets magicked away to this realm and her gaining that shadow power when it happens
One of my first 5e characters was a storm sorcerer - more focused on rain and lightning and thunder. I used the same hair color and close to the same skin color to make this new storm sorcerer as a bit of a nod to that character, and wanted this one more focused on winter storms (including making her a winter eladrin elf)
and last but certainly not least, Gemma the halfling cursed with wild magic. I think she started off her adventuring life with a thieves' group before they found the wrong magic artifact. You know how it goes
#sorcerer#divine soul sorcerer#storm sorcerer#wild magic sorcerer#aberrant mind sorcerer#clockwork soul sorcerer#draconic bloodline#lunar sorcerer#shadow magic#tiefling#half elf#halfling#eladrin#tabaxi#fairy
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Looks like we’re getting a lot of crazy things in 6x05
which,
1. Considering the potential title “Moonless Night”, 6x05 will possibly be including Rayla being hurt or moon being otherwise metaphorically swallowed, (paralleling s3 swallowing/corruption of the sun’s power),
2. Considering episode 5 follows an episode titled “The Starscraper,” in 6x05 Aaravos is potentially freed at the end of 4 or during 5 and potentially possesses Callum which will lead to all sorts of trouble
3. Considering the connection of a scene between soren and viren with “until 6x05” and all the hints that the most impactful scenes between soren and viren were yet to come…. it seems likely that in 6x05 Soren and Viren will have a very emotionally charged moment together, also possibly with Claudia. Maybe with a confrontation of some kind, also involving the moon?
Let’s delve into this more though—As this potential title has ignited a spark to finally set ablaze and reveal the idea that has been percolating in my mind for months.
Moonless Night (and Why I Believe the Moon is Metaphorically Going to Be Swallowed) A S6 Speculative Meta
with arc1-arc2 parallels, norse mythology examination, reflections analysis and more
As far as I can see, the clue most directly points to Moonless Night. (Edit: which ended up being right!) And there are other reasons I’m on board.
I already went insane over this so let’s get started
A. S3-S6 Parallels
So, I’m a big fan of across arc season parallels as they’ve existed very overtly S1-S4 from the first moment, as well as some other things which in many ways are setup and reestablishment of dynamics (Rayla hesitating and breaking from her duty twice to help/see Callum instead, Harrow and Ezran respectively attempt to break free from the past but they have to acknowledge it, etc) as well as persistently in S2-S5:
and, it seems, *possibly* S3 to S6–
1. If we get another plot against Ezran that’s not a joke (as it is in s4 and many throwaway lines and jokes in tdp come back to bite us)—+“This coming season will test Ezran's pacifist instincts”
2. If Viren returns, something like this—
in contrast to the “I’m sorry it had to happen this way”/“No you’re not.”/“No, I’m not.” because Viren cannot doubt Ezran would be genuinely sorry
Viren would say I know because he gets it now, the new hesitant, less certain version who also feels bad for all he has done, but he wouldn’t have before.
SO… 3. If the Moon were to get metaphorically/literally swallowed on some level in S6, it would parallel 3x07, Hearts of Cinder.
Corruption via Aaravos’s…child.
which, coincidently, brings me to my next point!
B. Norse Mythology
I’ve briefly discussed this before here, but let’s review:
Aaravos’s similarities to Loki
Source: Twitter
But while we’re on Loki’s similarities to Aaravos, let’s consider what his other children are up to during Ragnarok, the end of the world in Norse Mythology, which seems fitting considering all the foreshadowing of what chaos Aaravos has wreaked in the past (Xadia) and present (Lux Aurea) and even future (ominous wording in the reflections) when given the chance.
Loki’s children during Ragnarok:
World Serpent — rises up from the depths, encircles the world and causes great waves and destruction (“The seas churned” 👀)
Hel — From the underworld, “leading an army of the dead, she marches against the gods, uniting with her brothers and other forces of chaos. This culminating battle signifies the cyclical nature of Norse myths; an end that's also a beginning.” [1] Speaking of which, sounds familiar, right? In Ripples:
“While one may say it ends with a sunrise, [beginning] another will insist it ends at nightfall. [end]”
“With its impact came a long and terrible night: The earth bled! The seas churned! The sun and moon hid for weeks behind the sky’s screaming storm!”
“And when the long, dark night had finally passed—for the sun must always rise, mustn’t it?—they gazed out upon an unfamiliar landscape.”
Fenrir— He was gagged with a sword and was destined to lie bound to a rock until the Ragnarök (Doomsday), when he will break his bonds and fall upon the gods. According to one version of the myth, Fenrir will devour the sun, and in the Ragnarök he will fight against the chief god Odin and swallow him. [2]
It’s interesting how Fenrir has even more parallels than Loki to Aaravos here. Trapped by a blade, chained against rocks like Prometheus (one of Aaravos’s primary inspirations) was when his liver (modern heart) was eaten every day, and when he’s freed all hell breaks loose, including swallowing people (see Zym and Aditi) and the sun. But was it him with the sun? Or…..
There’s something there about killing a god and being killed in return and making the stars fall and all the damage Claudia has suffered thus far, but anyway.
That’s right, Fenrir has two children, one who swallows the sun, and one who swallows the moon. During Ragnarok, while, also, the sea shakes. Ahem, back to this:
“With its impact came a long and terrible night: The earth bled! The seas churned! The sun and moon hid for weeks behind the sky’s screaming storm!”
So… earth blood?
Check… churning seas?
World Serpent — rises up from the depths, encircles the world and causes great waves and destruction
Check… sun and moon gone?
Check.
So, what do we do with this information?
C. Interpretation
So Aaravos with two children, one who swallows the sun, one the moon.
Swallowing the Moon
-Involving a Child
1. Most literally: Aaravos has that… homonculus child, which takes and poisons the power of the sun. Maybe we’re getting another of those? I’m honestly scared for what that actually means like is he having another kid for that because 😭
2. What I favor- a metaphor— If you can consider Claudia Aaravos’s child, well, child in law isn’t that far off for the sake of this theory I think it’s possible they team up and somehow metaphorically swallow the moon like Viren and Aaravos did in S3. ….Just taking the moon, corrupting it and using its power— like they did with the Sunfire power— to make troops invisible in their effort to conquer xadia part two (2!) (although this is probably like the nth time that Aaravos has attempted his plan.)
-not involving a child
3. it could also just be disrupting the moon nexus in some way. Aaravos tends to break reflections in one way or another, from mirrors to ripples.
in Ripples he talks about how he dislikes how the stars look down on their perfect reflection (the sea of cast out)
@parroset has written an excellent meta elaborating further on it here, but essentially, he breaks reflections. A reflection is key to the moon nexus, that lake is the moon nexus because it so perfectly reflects the moon. So… there’s something to that. And it would have to come in handy manipulating the veil between life and death.
4. Taking Luna Tenebris’s power in a flashback.
I’ve talked about why I think we’re finally getting Luna Tenebris content before here, but essentially we already got all the dragons in the 4 corners of the map via flashback or interaction, and now only she is left. A flashback on what really went down that day would be perfectly in line with us learning more about Aaravos’s past, perhaps interaction with Kim'dael as well as, hopefully, blood magic—and dark, star, and deep magic. It also fits in with swallowing the moon’s power, as she was a Moon Archdragon. Moonless night. This also ties back to the blood moon cult because they harvest the power of the moon to begin with.
Last but not least and most obvious and exciting to many,
5. Rayla= “Moon girlfriend.” Callum is already being targeted, and likely some terrible thing is going to happen to him up with the rating being up, creators crying over this episode and calling it “heartbreaking” and all of that, so swallowing the moon could be symbolism for her dying or something equally terrible (so he’s forced to exploit dark magic/Aaravos to save her.)
This also ties back to this being the episode following the star scraper and the theory that Callum is a Trojan horse and, once he’s there, all the shit is going down. Maybe Rayla gets in the way and tries to sacrifice herself. I wouldn’t be surprised. or maybe it’s an intentional harm so that Callum has to bring her back… who knows?
It is for you to think about as you see fit.
@beautifulterriblequeen also wrote about other possibilities for the Moonless night here!
D. Symbolism & Misc.
Now let’s talk about the other symbolic evidence pointing to the swallowing of the moon.
The first thing that got me hooked on this theory was actually this page, which we see Viren flipping through, and then in Callum’s sketchbook.
I already analyzed the markings surrounding Aaravos’s signature symbol, but I also found the eclipse and crescent moon especially interesting considering how important the eclipse motif has been in the series and uniquely tied to Aaravos.
Thus far I figured the moon also had to be significant right it also almost seemed to me as if both the sun and moon had a bite taken out of them.
Then, we have the Reflections.
After Darkness
“The writhing, tainted darkness of Lux Aurea’s night sky spread infinitely above him, the stars all swallowed up inside it.”
Ripples
“While one may say it ends with a sunrise, another will insist it ends at nightfall. ” (swallowed sun) (falling stars)
“With its impact came a long and terrible night/And in that endless dark the humans despaired. The humans huddled together, scarcely daring to breathe, awaiting the rise of the sun.”
which, side note- sol regem saying the sun will never rise again for me, karim saying the sun is setting on their kingdom, and aaravos telling viren that the sun will rise and he will not like augh.
Then there’s the more literal interpretations of swallowing the moon and or sun along with the stars - Consider
1, Aaravos is giant
2, Star eating sword
3, Star devourer dragons
And, let’s go back to the crescent.
Waxing Crescents are associated with growing power, which would also be fitting for Aaravos gaining power, possibly a literal powerup.
Let’s also consider what new moons mean- considering the possible name, moonless night, and all the swallowing of the moon, and starting a new cycle, new moons are certainly significant, right? Moonless night- A fresh start. Could be something!
In summary, I believe the moon will be metaphorically swallowed in S6 in one way or another.
I hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading my thoughts! Please feel free to share any insights or reactions of your own!
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Here we go, the first proper chapter of the Saiki K manga, 1-1!
Manga Saiki my beloved. How I missed you. I won’t comment on every single panel because I don’t want to spend —that— long talking about trivial things in this manga. But I’ll do my best to be annoyingly thorough in this re-read. Since I figure it will probably be my last proper re-read from end to end, sequentially. (Because quite frankly this manga is long. And I have other things to do. Hopefully.)
I’m not sure “lax” is the word I would use here? But I don’t like the anime’s use of “airheaded” much either, so?? “Considerably low key” maybe? In any case, the next panel sums it up “They both were the type not to think that deeply about things.” Let’s see… it says かなり緩かった. That seems to be about right, translation wise.
incheresting.
Also, it implies hypothetical strict parents of psychics exist, which… ironically enough, simply doesn’t exist in the Saikiverse. Come on Asou sensei. Give us an official continuation so we can meet some new psychic kid who meets this requirement of having grown up with strict parents.
I love how the very first page shows Saiki committing some selfless act with his powers. And yet he still gives us the spiel about how much psychic powers suck with his signature chronic >:(. Yes; Saiki has been a tsundere since the very beginning.
Saiki’s tsundere-ism aside, I have always liked how Asou sensei explains how psychic powers might be a significant drawback as much as a strength. The metaphor of a domestic dog who is fed and therefore doesn’t have the skill to hunt for itself, and the spoiled child who is given everything and thus robbed of agency, are both particularly good ones. (The curry and spoons one just makes me think of Mob psycho. Do you think One sensei read Saiki k???)
Saiki just lists all of his powers here. That certainly saves time. Though people who have already read the oneshots have the advantage of knowing exactly how these powers work (if we assume them properly canon.) There’s details about Saiki’s powers that get changed from the oneshots to the manga proper, like the timer on his spirit-body separation ability and his “clairvoyance” being called x-ray vision. Wait, no, that was the oneshot. Well, my point still stands.
I also like this part about a sense of achievement being impossible for him, since everything is too easy. It’s rather depressing if you think about it too much. Saiki definitely doesn’t belong in the “normal” life role that he forces himself into. But given his alternatives (Allow himself to become a government lab rat and subject himself to experimentation? Become a worldwide celebrity who fixes the problems of the world and maintains peace, essentially becoming a human god?? hang out with his amoral genius older brother who hates him???) his attempts at normalcy are understandable. And very entertaining.
No extreme emotions… I hope Asou sensei knew the can of worms he was opening by having Saiki say this. But I’m guessing he didn’t.
And the first of Kusuo’s problems in his titular disastrous life is the very normal problem of having to unlock the door for his father, who locked himself out of the house. But at this point, we the readers have no idea the extent of his powers and just how much his full potential is underutilized.
why doesn’t Kurumi have a job..? their mortgage is probably expensive and her son is an older teenager and fully capable of taking care of himself… i guess she just wants to be the doting mom for her son.
Ah!? Is that where Saiki gets his standards for how he uses his powers? Makes sense.
Sigh. watching your parents wrestle while waxing eloquent about coffee jelly. Never change Saiki. (and he never does.) He is really making me crave coffee jelly.
so cute.
XD his father’s thoughts are so ~kawaii~. Teehee.
Also, I never see anyone use forced telepathy in fics! More stuff that has so much damn potential… note to future me reading this.
The word used here in the manga is “psi user.” Let’s see… In Japanese, it is 超能力者(chyounouryokusha). Exactly what I expected; the same term as used on the cover. And that’s the word he uses in the anime, too, but in the subtitles, it’s translated as simply “psychic.” For those wondering, he says: 見せてやろう…超能力者の力おな… ‼︎
I am too low level to properly translate this, but I’d say it’s something like, “I’ll show you… a psi user’s power!”
Our translators: “I shall show you… the power of a psi user…!” (and they keep the punctuation and spacing used in the original Japanese.)
:,) He smiles… I love it when he smiles with the sparklies and the shine comes into his eyes. He doesn’t make this expression but a few meager times in the comic. And one of them is at the very end.
Papa also has a temper?? Ugh. He’s such a spoiled child. I can’t blame Kusuo for being a brat when his dad is like that.
And then Kusuo immediately smashes every window in the house using his psi powers out of coffee jelly induced jealousy. Another turn of events that just doesn’t make sense in the anime!!!
The translator note at the end is very sweet. I feel lucky that such a good scan team took on Saiki k; they really put effort into it, even the untranslatable stuff.
Alrighty, (wii fit meditation announcer guy voice) that’s… the end. It took me the better part of four hours to read and touch type all of this on my smartphone. Time well spent. (though I really should have used my computer. No, actually I’d better not, or all of my posts are going to be the length of 0-6…)
end of 1-1💫
#read-saiki#read-saiki 1-1#for those of you wondering#I started learning Japanese for the express purpose of being able to read the Saiki k manga… there is no other reason.#My love for this series is very large indeed. 私の斎木楠雄の災難への愛は素晴らしいです。
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most baffling response to the child soldiers post is definitely “they’re not really child soldiers, though, and it’s like how for physically demanding pastimes like ballet you need to start training young so thirteen is actually pretty old, and the students aren’t actually meant to be fighting in real combat anyway”
the huntsmen academies admit seventeen-year-olds—or younger teens with their guardian’s permission. all of the adults, including ozpin, refer to huntsmen students as “children.” (curiously, salem is the only character who ever gets flak in the fandom for calling the nineteen-year-olds children. i wonder why that is 🤔)
from the mouths of the children themselves:
WEISS: Well, Ruby’s still just a kid.
BLAKE: She’s only two years younger. We’re all kids.
YANG: Well. Not anymore. I mean, look where we are—in the middle of a war zone and armed to the teeth!
the narrative makes it very emphatically clear that these “warriors” are children. they are consistently referred to as children, and the only one who ever objects to being called a child is yang, on the grounds that children don’t fight in wars.
secondly: “when ozpin's predecessor founded the schools, he built them around the relics to act as a fortress. not only would they be easier to defend, but they would constantly be surrounded by trained warriors.” not only are the huntsmen students expected to face real combat (mountain glenn is explicitly considered a war zone), they are the first line of defense for the relics inside the schools. the point of putting the relics in the academies is so that the students will defend them should salem attack. which is exactly what happens at beacon, because the system works as designed.
thirdly: children die at these schools. gretchen rainart died on a training mission. younger students—the ones attending combat schools, which begin at thirteen if not younger—also sometimes die on training missions involving real grimm:
She had some idea why. The research she had done on her teacher had turned up a story Aurelia would probably much rather forget. A student of hers had died on a training mission at Patch Combat School, lost in a scuffle with Ursa Grimm. The school didn’t hold her responsible—she had managed to protect her fifteen other students, and it was all part of the risk. But there was plenty of blame to go around. The child’s parents vowed to have her pay for the death of the girl, and Aurelia’s official statement was, “I blame myself. She should still be with us. She was always so capable, perhaps I put too much faith in her to take care of herself while I got the others to safety.”
The girl had been the same age as Trivia, only fifteen.
the huntsmen academies are more intensive, but new students are expected to show up already capable of mowing through hordes of grimm on day one, because the combat schools also send students into the field with minimal supervision (one teacher, sixteen students 14-15 years old, involved in a “scuffle” with grimm). and that teacher leaving one student behind to cover the retreat of the other fifteen and herself isn’t considered to be negligence—she isn’t held to be at fault for this student’s death—because being killed by grimm is “all part of the risk” of attending a combat school.
which again, enroll students 13-16 years old, if not younger.
so yeah, they’re child soldiers. in the real world we define child soldiers as anyone under the age of eighteen recruited for participation in military activities; in rwby it was a deliberate narrative choice for the huntsmen academies to begin at seventeen, for the characters to consistently refer to the students as “children,” and for one of the major villain’s motivations be that his seventeen-year-old sister enrolled at beacon academy and died on a training mission. the text is very clear about the situation.
#interesting how they’re children for condemning salem but ‘college students’ for defending ozpin. isn’t it#team oz does that rhetorical trick too! they’re children except when it sounds better to say warriors instead :)
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I'm back talking about Harry Potter and Snape's worst memory because while I hate the author y'all bug me.
Snape worst memory isn't James bulling him or string him up in front of the school, (that was bad I'm not saying it wasn't) it was Lily ending her friendship with him because he called her a Mudblood. With evidence.
To prove my point we have to go read the Deathly Hallows when Snape gave Harry his memories! We get to see the scene again but this time the thing that sticks out the most is Snape calling Lily a Mudblood. Now if that's not enough proof the next memory goes like this.
*Outside Gryffindor Tower*
Snape: I'm sorry
Lily: I'm not interested
S: I'm sorry!
L: save your breath... I only came out here because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here.
S: I was. I would have done. I never ment to call you a Mudblood it just-
L: Slipped out? It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends- you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you? I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine.
S: No-listen, I didn't mean-
L:-to call me a Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?
*Lily leaves. Memory ends*
The next memory is Snape becoming a turn coat for Dumbledore so he could keep Lily safe because Voldemort wouldn't spare her.
Snape has had worse experiences then a teenage James Potter being a bully (even if it was shitty). so we look at the rest of the memory and lo and behold what do we see? The actual worst moment of Snape life, the moment he lost Lily forever.
#I just saw someone say they hated Lily because he's was too hard on Severus all he did was call her a Mudblood.#Yeah just called her a slur...And found it funny when dark magic was used on someone. And joined a hate group that would kill her.#And would've let her child and husband die if it ment she lived. bffr 🙄 lets put this in real world terms!#you're a minority (pick one) and you go to a school but their are some people who hate you for existing. but its ok you've got your bff!#now years go by and bff is still your bff but theyve changed. they're hanging out with those aforementioned people who hate you for existin#and yeah you dont like it but they're your bff since for ever so you make excuses. but then bff starts calling people like you slurs...#now bff hasn't called you slurs so maybe its just peer pressure you let it slide its your bff. now you find out that not only are there#people who hate you for existing there is his hate group and they want you and people like you dead. obviously you dont like his. now bffs#friends they want to join this hate group... and bff doesn't deny it. ok thats not great. bffs friends who wanna join the hate group have#now moved passed just calling people like you slurs. they've went and beat the shit out of a person like you that you considered a friend.#and bff.... they say that it was just a joke. but are again not denying wanting to join the hate group that wants you dead. you love bff so#you just keep your mouth shut. now the day comes! bff has now called you a slur. and you cant make excuses anymore. they're just like their#friends and you cut your losses because again bff and their friends want to join a hate group that wants to kill you!!!#its not poor litte Severus its poor Lily. she thought she had a friend and HE betrayed HER! but but but why didnt she stop him from joining#she was a child! she was in a new world with no idea! she was in a whole nother house! and its not her fucking job to fix him! he joined th#hate group HE KNEW HATED HER! if he truly loved her he wouldn't have joined. but but but its not that- ADROMADA TONKS could be a Slytherin#and not be a Death Eater and her family was pure blood. she could do it! so could Snape.#severus snape#lily potter#snapes worst memory#the marauders#harry potter#the deathly hallows#lily evans#put some more respected on her name.#fuck jkr#james potter#slytherin#how can you be a snape stan and not like lily that 80% of his personality.#snape
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"I'm going to tell you a story. Maybe it will sound familiar."
Visionary x Insatiable x Status Asthmaticus x The Wolves of War
#this is really a show about coming of age in a vicious and unfamiliar world more than a show about werewolves#think about it. scott is sixteen and to him losing his first love is as incomprehensible and unfathomable as the supernatural.#and we're constantly reminded of how being sixteen and in love goes -- 'you're not in love you're sixteen and a child' etc.#these three characters make for such a good parallel to one another in how they werewolf + seeking guidance#especially + sudden change of worldview/stakes when confronted with sudden and unexpected loss and grieving#of course derek loses paige and becomes cold and jaded (see: literally becomes cold w/ blue eyes)#scott loses allison and commits harder to saving all of his friends even though one of them (or someone possessing him) killed her#liam is stopped from killing because of hayden's death#here are three werewolves who were sixteen and held their first love's dead body in their arms#and each of them took a different path. do you close yourself off? refuse to? do you change completely because of it?#and ofc it's teen wolf so everything always comes in threes#I have a lot of issues with the writing but the use of death (barring 6b) is not one of them. they really went hard on meaningful death.#also consider: lori holding brett's hand so he doesn't die alone and theo responding to tracy kissing him by killing her as she does#teen wolf writers went is anyone going to bastardize the original narrative to ponder new ideas about it and didn't wait for an answer#also women's deaths are always about love/for a man (thanks hollywood) but goddamn if they don't kill their women wisely#and the thing is they are all running. they're running from death and what does it get them? it gets them here.#derek wants to turn paige so she'll live forever. scott wants allison to live happily even with someone else. liam wants to save hayden.#none of them consider that cheating death will catch up to them until they run right into its arms#and all three die because of getting involved with the supernatural. all of them would presumably not have died otherwise.#coming of age into a world that takes and hurts and destroys and where you are now old enough for people around you to die.#this is not a show about werewolves.#teen wolf#twedit#teenwolfedit#my edit#derek hale#paige krasikeva#scott mccall#allison argent#liam dunbar
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in this house we love greek gods that preside over one specific thing and have fuckall to do for the rest of eternity <3
#sriracha.txt#creating some fuckt up little lady who presides Specifically over like. the point in which old crop is used to fertilize the new#thus playing into the whole cycle of life idea + giving her some foot to stand on as the kid of persephone and hades specifically#wrt the way old life supports the new? is this stepping on the toes of demeter and dionysus... yes...#but we pretend we do not see it.. i am overworked + low on spoons as it is and this is like.. niche lore for a character i am not paid to#play. i cannot dedicate much more effort to her. at least not right now#lament aside i think i will name her Rhoeas or something of that nature.. from what i can tell ῥόα is the word for pomegranates#which becomes ῥοιᾰ́ς for corn poppies..#now sit with me boy 🕴 we lose the plot here a little bit + also extrapolate from wikipedia alone for this BUT. in many cultures poppies are#heavily associated with death and love alike. and ofc they grow in disturbed soil.#SO... if you look at the original myth with a modern + loose lens. i think you could justify some kind of poppy child being like#a bridge between demeter and hades.. she comes from the literal disturbed soil that came when hades abducted persephone#+ has ties with death and love + love that can endure death which can be a fun allusion to the way that demeter's love for persephone#persists even through persephone's stay in hades which houses the dead... do you feel me comrades#i think you could even apply it to persephone and hades themselves - a love that endures death? but naur offense hades is NOT the focus her#</3 🤪 coming back to this theme of like. love persisting through death and being sewn in the wake of death/disrupted soil. we come back to#the anchor point of her character which is the old dead crops being used to fertilize the new growth. it's the love the dead has for the#living right!! to help it grow in a new and difficult world! i think that itself ties back into the central theme w the poppies#and also demeter has ties to poppies so i don't think it would be crazy for some grandchild of hers to have ties to poppies :-] i think thi#all somewhat feasible if you reaaaalllly squint. anyhow i'm too tired to go any further with it rn#corylana
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The Radio Demon has a WIFE??? And She was a WHAT??? (Alastor x Fem!Reader)
Summary: Mimzy stops by and brings up a little detail that Alastor forgot to mention: he has a wife...oh yeah, and she used to be a nun. How the fuck did that happen???
-Or-
I was watching 'Call the Midwife' and got Alastor brainrot ideas while watching the romance between Sister Bernadette/Sheila and Dr. Turner.
Tags: Fem!Reader (for obvious reasons), She/Her pronouns, No Use of (Y/N), everything I know about being a nun is from a TV show (don't kill me pls), Husk is...so fucking tired, also I couldn’t find a midwife house in New Orleans so I made one up (don’t kill me pls x2)
TW: None, other than my possible terrible idiocy regarding nun shit and Catholicism, I feel like me being the author should also be a TW in and of itself ngl
Word Count: 2.4k
Read it on Ao3 <3
"WHAT?"
Husk winced as Angel's voice echoed throughout the lobby, loud and full of indignation.
"There is no fuckin' way tall, dark, an' creepy is married," he insisted, staring down Mimzy as she took another swig from her glass, "you've gotta be fuckin' with us, right Husk?"
Husk pointedly ignored the question, turning his back to the two idiots and their quickly gathering crowd of spectators—the other residents of the hotel. Alastor didn't like people talking about him unless it was with hate, fear, or admiration- (the arrogant fuck) -and he liked people spreading his personal business around even less.
He wasn't stupid enough to get involved in this conversation, even if Mimzy and Angel apparently were.
Mimzy laughed, "oh please, that's not even the best part! Alastor's sweetheart actually used to be a sister!"
"A sister?"
"Yeah-"
'Don't fuckin' say it-'
"-like a nun!"
'Motherfucker.'
That statement had Angel choking on his drink, everyone else letting out various exclamations of disbelief—all of which only made Mimzy's smile widen. She was enjoying the attention.
"Yeah," she continued, "the pretty thing was actually part of one of the few nunneries that were up and running back in our day—although hers also served as a sorta home base for the midwives in New Orleans before it all became a hospital affair."
"So not only did Smiles somehow manage to get 'imself a sweetheart, but he managed to bag a fuckin' NUN?!" Angel asked incredulously, "how the FUCK did that happen?"
Mimzy grinned mischievously, "well-"
"Mimzy," Husk said, caution and warning in his tone. It was one thing to drop a couple facts and then shut up—Alastor was fond of her- (as "fond" as the bastard was capable of) -so she might be able to get off with a warning—but to start telling stories about his life? Spilling all his carefully guarded secrets?
Yeah, that'd get her killed. Or worse.
Even so, Mimzy either didn't know how secretive Alastor was- (doubtful) -or she was just under the delusional belief that he wouldn't hurt her for her slight- (bingo) -because she just waved off Husk's warning.
"Hm...where should I start?"
---------------
What everyone in Hell tended to forget was that the cruel, bloodthirsty, "Radio Demon" they all feared...used to be a man, used to be human just like all the rest.
Quite the human he was, though.
Obviously he did his fair share of terrible things, he didn't end up in Hell for being a saint, but before any of his...transgressions came into the public eye, people truly thought he was. He'd come from a poor home, his father ran off when he was young, and yes he was an odd child—but all of that seemed inconsequential the older he got.
He worked hard in school and worked his way up in the world until he finally became a famous radio host, the crown jewel of the French Quarter. Even so, all of the attention never seemed to go to his head. His mother's son, always his mother's son, he was the picture of a true gentleman—always polite, always chivalrous, always helping others. It certainly didn't hurt that he was handsome too, and his charm was unmatched by any other man in the city.
As such, it was no shock that he attracted all manner of attention from people vying for his affection, but no one seemed to catch his particular eye. That was, until he met her...
---------------
“Now, keep in mind, I don’t know very much about his missus before they got together,” Mimzy admitted, “but, from what I can tell, she'd always been a mystery, so I don’t think it really matters-“
“Obviously it matters!” Angel interrupted, his drink and everything else long forgotten, “for someone to get together with Smiles willingly, they’ve gotta have some of their own skeletons in the closet! C’mon toots, you gotta know something.”
Mimzy circled a finger around her glass, playing coy, “well…maybe I might know a thing or two…”
Husk wanted to bash his head against a wall.
Fine, fine, fine. It was one thing—one really fucking stupid thing—to talk about Alastor, but to talk about his wife? Especially to fucking gossip about her?
Yeah, no, these morons were definitely dead as soon as Alastor found out.
“Well?” Angel pressed, looking downright desperate for more information.
“Well…”
---------------
Alastor's sweetheart had always been an enigma since the day she arrived in New Orleans, every bit of her covered in that modest black and white clothing—all except her face and hands, of course.
By all accounts, she was a sweet girl—kind, attentive, always willing to help—but she was also very…secretive, one might say. It wasn't that the other nuns weren't reserved, because they were, but she was especially so, and her brand of reservation came across as more underhanded than anything else.
She never talked about her hobbies, her family, her life before taking her vows—hell, she never talked about her life before she moved to New Orleans. So it was no surprise that a fair amount of rumors followed her around, no matter how sweet she appeared to be.
Some said that she was a runaway, trying to escape an abusive father; others said that she moved there to get out of a loveless marriage; and a few even claimed that she was on the run from the law. There was never any evidence to support any of those rumors, of course, but people loved to talk.
One might think that Alastor was drawn to her because of all of those whispers, just chasing down another story for his radio show, but it was actually a mix of pure luck and her work as a midwife that brought those two together.
You see, midwives didn't only deliver babies, but they also offered all sorts of medical assistance to anyone who needed it. These services eventually brought her to his mother’s home one day, and it just so happened that Alastor was also visiting his ma at the time.
The two started talking and, between his magnetic charms and her sweet demeanor, it was no surprise that the two got along like a house fire.
From then on, every time she visited his ma to take care of her, he was there too. Then he started showing up at all of the events hosted by Saint Charlene’s, always finding his way to her side. And there even came a time where he started visiting her frequently, always welcomed by her fellow sisters and the other midwives with open arms.
---------------
“Wait a minute,” Angel interrupted, “I thought nuns weren’t allowed ta be in relationships. It goes against the whole point of bein’ a nun, don’t it?”
Mimzy huffed, “I was getting to that part!”
---------------
Obviously nuns weren’t allowed to have relationships, romantic or sexual, and most people of that time didn’t believe that men and women could simply be friends—so the friendliness they both shared fell under quite a bit of scrutiny. Everyone that knew a thing about that sweet girl knew she would never betray her vows, and everyone that knew a thing about Alastor knew that he’d rather die than be anything less than a perfect gentleman.
But, like I said, people in New Orleans liked to talk.
Neither of them paid any mind to it, though. Alastor was already dealing with the bullshit that came with showbiz and his sweetheart already had a bunch of rumors circulating about her, so what did they care if a few more whispers were added to the pile? But eventually, a painfully long time after the two first met and became friends, there came a day when something that wasn’t quite platonic bloomed between the two of them.
Obviously the two of them were horrified by this; Alastor, because he would never ask her to forsake her vows for him, and her, because she was worried that she was betrayin’ her God by feeling that way.
Eventually she talked to the other nuns, though, and got some help figuring out her emotions and what she wanted to do, and Alastor talked things through with his ma—who was, frankly, overjoyed that he’d finally found someone who he fancied.
Let me tell ya, even with all of the others helpin’, it took fuckin’ forever for those two to finally get together. Between their shared emotional constipation, everyone’s expectations of them, the worry that the other didn’t feel the same way, and the fear of crossing each other’s boundaries…yeah, it took over a year after the two of them figured out they liked each other for them to actually say something.
By the time they finally got their shit together, Alastor’s mom and the other midwives were already planning their wedding. Hell, the nuns were just about ready to rescind her vows themselves, they were so sick of the pining!
Everything worked out in the end, though. The two confessed, his sweetheart did the whole dispensation thing, and the two eventually got married.
----------
“Blah, blah, blah…they got a happily ever after and a white picket fence,” Mimzy finished with a lazy wave of her hand, “so, that's the story."
Angel just stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly, “huh, I didn’t know tall, dark, and creepy had it in ‘im.”
Mimzy hummed, “yeah, he might seem all big an’ scary, but underneath all that he’s a total doll!”
Husk shuddered as the prickle of static suddenly made his hair stand on end, signaling Alastor’s entrance into the room—along with Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer himself. His eyes immediately found the small group that had gathered by the bar, and it probably wasn’t hard for him to figure out what exactly drew everyone there.
“Now, now, Mimzy, what have you been telling everyone about me?” Alastor chastised, making his way closer to their group. His tone was teasing, but it had a subtle warning at the end—one that said he wasn’t asking for shits n' giggles. It made Husk want to disappear into the wall, to get out of the way of what would follow if Alastor found out the subject of their conversation. Hopefully Angel and Mimzy would have enough sense to keep their mouths shut, but he doubted it.
“Oh, nothing you need ta worry about!” she said, waving him off playfully, “just a couple old stories from back in the day.”
“Is that so?”
Mimzy hummed her affirmative, finishing off her drink, and for one blissful moment Husk thought that the subject would drop and everything would be fine. He was wrong.
“Yeah, and I gotta say I’m surprised atcha Smiles,” Angel snarked, “who knew ya had a missus back home keeping ya on a leash.”
The room went dead silent.
The lights suddenly flickered, a dark red glow casting across the room as they did—mangled shadows dancing on the walls. Husk shrank back, trying his best to blend in with the bottles of alcohol that lined the shelf behind him.
Alastor’s voice was pure radio static, barely restrained rage filtering through, “w̶͚̫̰̰̟̌̆̓̚̚h̵̩̤̹͓̗̾̔͗̇̉å̴̱̩̝͚̎́̐̔̏͜†̸̡͔̲̠͔̔̎̆̀̕ ̸̲̠͔̟̗͗͑̾͐͘Ð̷̡̠̥̞͚̔̾̋̋͘ï̶̩̼̻̱̣̓̀̅͆̑Ð̸̣͍̞̬͖͋͑̽͗̚ ̶͈͙̤̺̲̒̒̒̎̀¥̷̭̻̥̘͈̇̓͑́́ð̵̢̲͕͈͇͐͊̓̀̓µ̴͕̬͕̟̟͊͊͂͗͘ ̵̪̲̫̳͍͑̑͒̔͐j̶̨̦̹̪̟̄̽̽̄͘µ̸̧̭͖͇̞̈́̔̀̒͒§̵̺̠͚͓͓̓͂̚͘͝†̷̛̖̤̰̗͓͋̄̇̑ ̸̢̩͙̙̫̊͗̃͘͝§̷̻̣̼̼͙̎͋̂͆͝ą̸̡̛̱̣̻̊̈́̈́̑́¥̶̢̟̼̘̲̃̿̐͑͠?̴͉̞̠̞̦̒͌̋͗̓”
‘Fuck.’
----------
You hummed quietly as you sat on the couch in your and Alastor’s shared home, sketching whatever came to mind in one of the small notebooks he’d bought you—working away the time and trying to ignore his glaring absence. It wasn’t often you were left yearning for your husband’s presence, finding plenty to do during the times he was gone, but today you wanted nothing more than for him to walk through the door. Luckily, you got your wish, although things certainly weren’t how you expected.
As soon as Alastor walked in, you could tell he was pissed. It was in his posture, his strained smile, the violent crackle of interference in the air. Even his shadow seemed agitated, flitting from one spot to another as if it simply couldn’t sit still.
“Al?” You asked carefully, “is everything alright?”
He turned to you, obviously trying to pass off the illusion of placidity, “everything is fine, my dear, why do you ask?”
“Well you just seem–” the lights around the house flickered, and you could hear a few of them bust in the other rooms, “...tense.”
He kept up the mask for a moment longer, still trying to fool you, but it dropped soon enough and he let out an irritated sigh.
“...certain people need to learn to keep their insignificant little mouths shut.”
You set aside your notebook and gestured for him to sit next to you, a request he obliged. Almost immediately your hands went to his shoulders and you began massaging them, trying to alleviate some of the tension practically radiating off of him—drawing an almost relieved sigh from his mouth.
You pressed a barely-there kiss to the back of his neck, “what happened, love?”
…
“Mimzy stopped by the hotel today and during her stay she decided to fucK̶̝̥̘̪͍̉͋́̈̅Ḭ̴̛̭̪͇̀͋̐̍͂͜ñ̷̡̤̩̖̰̈́͂̑̐͝G̴̞̯̭͈̘͋̒̑̅̚ ̵͇͕͓͕̗͆̃͛͊̂Ġ̶̝̱̪͈̘̽̌͗͝Ö̶̼̲̬̪̟̏̌̄̚͝§̴̺̱̲̫̝̍̈͆̃́§̶̧̞̣̼̮̂͊͋͌͠Ì̷̲̰̹̰͚͌̀̌̇̂þ̴̢̥̰̖̬͒́͌̏̿ ̸̝̺̪̟̈́͊̅̏̆ͅÄ̷͎̘͓̬͇̋̍͑̏͠ß̵̢̫͇̣̻́̊͆͆͝Ö̸̡̤̤̤͙̀̎̿͛͝Ú̸̟̯̺͈̪̇̓̊͐̊†̸̘̺͎͖̣̂̍̽̋̚ ̷̪̺̖̜͇̀͂͒̚͝Ö̴̮̯̗͙̑̆̽̄̚ͅỨ̸̫̯̰̺̼̈́̄̐͝R̸̨̢̧̭͓̒͊̋̇͘ ̵̧̥̗̰͖̅̌̒̿̃þ̶̦̞̫̙͕̈̒̀̿̚Ȩ̵̞̖̲͖̀͗̂̎͝͝R̸̢̪̟̜̮̉̌͒̉̃§̴̢̣͇̠̫̓̀̈͗̽Ö̴̟͕͓̤̀̈́̒͘͜͠ñ̶̛̙͍̼͖͔̎̓̐̋Ä̶̢̬͇͙̟̌͌̃̈͌L̴̨̪͎̟̦̄̇̈̓̿ ̶̨̧̰̼̮̈͒̀̒͝L̸͖̬̙̮̗̂̓̀͘̚Ì̴͙̠͈̺̣͌̓͊̓̓V̷̯̭̞̙͖͆̐̾͗̔Ę̴̪̻̤̀̾͑͆͜͝͝§̷̛͚̤͇̫̘̑͆̾͘.̵̡̥̪̫͇̽̋̑͝͝ §̶͎̣̝̳͓͋̊̀̌͆ð̵̢̼̖̝̭̏̇̕̕͝ ̵̘̜͚̠̫́͊̈́͐̽Ì̷̢̧͖͚͙̆̔̌̓̏ ̸̻̩̪͓̞̀͑͒̇͋†̴̧͉̯̻̳̒̽͋̾̋ð̵̟͙͍̳͈͒̈́̑̍̑ð̸̲̤̞̞̙̄̅͛̓͠k̷̖̪̩̭͇͋̒̀͘͘ ̶̢̛̗̞͍̱̒̅͐͘ï̸̢̢͕̩̰̍̍̽̈́̈́†̵̠̥̖̗̌̌̾̿͠ͅ ̵͙̹̦͎̬͆́̈͗͛µ̸̧̼̲̮̙͊͂̑̓͌þ̶̹̬̫̥̹̓̑̆͘͝ð̷̡̺͖̣̇̅̔͐͑ͅñ̸̼͙̦͕̼̏̐͗͘̕ ̵̢̱̺͖͋̄͌͊̊ͅṁ̸͉̜͙͖͍̓̍͗͝¥̶̨̠̜̮̜̑͑͗̎̌§̵̧̜͉̣̓́͛̇̓ͅḛ̸̠̲̝̤̂̓̎̓͌̈́ĺ̵̛̻̭͚̝̹̽͐̍£̵̠̫̲̹̬̍̊̾̍̕ ̴̧̭̘̞̀̀͋́̄͜†̵̨̰̠̫̖̎̋̃̂͘ð̴̨͍̭̤̙̄̑̎͝͠ ̴̯̟̟̖̜͒͂͌͒̉§̶̪̜̙͎͎́̒̍̾͝h̷̝̻̞̖̄̅̔̆̕͜µ̵̨̨̛̣̬͓̍̑͋́†̶̨̢̰̤͙̌̀̈̈́͆ ̴͔̟̻̫̐͊̓͑̉͜ĥ̴̢̯͔̯̈́̇̑͋͜ê̵̡̳̠͖̺͋͒͐̍̇r̸̝̘͍̙̂͑́̃͊ͅ w̷̸̼̠͓̟͍̣͓̪͚͊̈͗̉̄̊̍̍̇̀͜h̵̥͓͕̲͉̋̓͊́̈́ð̴̨̡͚̲̦̄̃̄̓͋r̸̖̲̮̮͐͌͑́̃ͅę̴͖͇͙̥̂̐͛͌͒̽ ṃ̷̨̱͈̭̀̃͂́͘ð̵̧̛͎̗̟̒̇̈̊ͅµ̴̨̛̖͈̱͈̑̋́̕†̵͚̝̜̟͍̔̈̀̈́̆h̵͚̞͔̗̖̀͒̀͛͘.̴̳̙̞̗̬͒́͆̂͂”
The sudden surge of static and shadow didn’t phase you, even as Alastor struggled to not shift into his demonic form—sharp cracks of green light appearing on the walls.
When you’d first found out about his…extracurricular activities, you had been afraid and confused, but now it was nothing more than background noise. He was still the man you fell in love with, still your husband, even if he occasionally killed and ate the degenerates of the world and anyone that pissed him off.
All things considered, you were just glad that you’d ended up in Hell with him, even if the things you'd had to do to ensure that were...distasteful.
You wrapped your arms around him, nestling your head into the crook of his neck. A luxury that no one else enjoyed but you.
“That does sound stressful. Is everything handled now, at least?”
“Yes,” he drawled, leaning back further into you, “unfortunately I was unable to get rid of the other l̷̡͈̼̘̩̾͌̉͝͠ï̸̗̭̝̥̺̈́̓̐̿̚†̴̢̡͕͖̹͌͌̋̈́͗†̸̢̣͖͚͔̓̌̉̾̐l̶̡̪͙͕͗͐̍́̕͜ę̴̡̦͕̜̂͋̏̅͘͝ ̵̰̥̩̺̪̀̋̉͑̍§̸̖̥̦̗͓̏̋̉̈́̃h̶͓͙̯͔͇̎̏̾̕̚ï̴̧̡̱̗̻̈́͗͆̃̀†̴̣̖̯̭͉̂͐͒̍̀§̵̧̡̹̼̹͒̿̍̋͠, as Charlie has taken a liking to them, but I trust that I got my point across.”
“Good.”
You pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.
“Now…when do I get to meet these ‘little shits’ that get on your nerves so often?” you teased, drawing an amused chuckle from him.
“Don’t even start, darling.”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻
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starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]
❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader
❛ type | oneshot: explicit content
❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.
❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.
❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.
Miguel likes to work.
Or, he thinks he likes to work.
The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.
“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”
Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”
“My daughter isn’t your doll.”
“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”
“Peter.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”
“Y’know?”
“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.
“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”
“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”
He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.
Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.
His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.
He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.
Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up.
"Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.
“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”
“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.
“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.
“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.
Are you, y'know, sex-starved?
“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.
“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”
If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.
“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.
“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”
Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”
Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.
“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”
It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.
The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.
Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.
“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”
Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.
“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”
“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.
“It’s a contusion.”
The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.
“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.
“You can’t keep taking out your—“
“I am not sex-starved!”
“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.
Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.
On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.
“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”
“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.
“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”
“Nothing.”
“Miguel--"
“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”
Mireya cried. So did you.
The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.
Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.
"Are you going to apologize?"
Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.
"I snapped."
"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."
You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.
When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.
Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.
Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.
“What are you thinking about?”
Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.
“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”
"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.
“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”
Undoubtedly yes.
“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"
"You're always tired."
"But you could wake me.”
“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.
“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“
Hmpf. Debatable.
“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.
“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”
“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.
"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."
“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."
“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”
“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”
“Miggy--”
He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.
“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.
“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”
“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.
You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.
He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.
After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.
“Hm? Why are you laughing?”
“Peter said I was sex-starved."
“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."
#miguel o'hara oneshot#miguel o'hara x you#miguel x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara/reader#miguel ohara oneshot#miguel o'hara x reader#atsv imagine#atsv imagines#atsv x reader#atsv x you#across the spiderverse imagines#across the spiderverse imagine#miguel o'hara smut#spiderman 2099 smut#miguel ohara smut#miguel x y/n#miguel o’hara smut#miguel/reader#miguel x you#miguel o'hara imagine
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Imagine how distraught snow would be if his wife had a really rough time giving birth to their child where she’s coming in and out of conscience and there’s blood and he’s terrified she won’t make it like his mother leading to him hating the baby for a little bc of how badly his wife was recovering sorry for the angst! Ignore this if uncomfortable <3
forever winter |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|
prompt: as requested, troubles with child birth leaves coriolanus very cold towards your son.
contains: angst. mentions of parental death, blood, complications during birth. darkish coriolanus. kinda fluffy-ish end?
Coriolanus knew the horrors of childbirth. He knew the dangers, the risks. He’d seen the blank stares of a new mother rocking her baby, eyes blank and distant like she’d been through war. He’d heard the solemn whispers in a dim room, quiet and hushed, darting eyes that looked everywhere but the casket- sometimes two. His own mother had been torn from his grasp at a young age because of it, and for a while, he was sure he’d never let his own wife experience it.
Then he met you.
You who lit his world up from the inside out, who he rose only each day to see- to love. You who cradled a baby at your engagement announcement, a friend’s newborn, held him so naturally and delicately that it ignited something inside Coriolanus. He wanted a dozen babies with you, he decided at that moment that he’d do anything to make it happen.
You’d blossomed so naturally, swelled up overnight. Round belly and a glowing demeanor- it was addictive to Coriolanus. How he’d brag, boast proudly to anyone who’d hear it- his wife pregnant, he couldn’t be happier.
All those fears, worries, were replaced with new ones. Horror stories about infants, toddlers. His own consuming thoughts about being a father. The idea of childbirth was nothing but a fading thought to him. That had been in the war, technology was better, he was in a better place. Your father had ensured his darling daughter would have the best of the best- you always did. The best doctors, the best birthing suite, the best nursery- the best.
But money couldn’t buy your own body betraying itself at birth. It didn’t stop the bleeding, the paling of your skin as you fluttered in and out of consciousness.
You’d grunted like an animal, tearing yourself into two for hours, cursing Coriolanus’ name, begging him to make it stop, crushing his hands with your legs up in the stirrups, pushing your baby out.
Coriolanus was in awe of you, though he’d never get the chance to tell you. How you’d willed yourself to hurt yourself, inflict that selfless pain to bring life into the world. It was positively poetic.
He’d been so overjoyed hearing your babies gargled cry, the nurses announcing its gender- his gender. His son. A boy. A beautiful boy, wailing and delicate and covered in matter that Coriolanus didn’t even care about when he held him close to his own chest.
“What is it, Coryo?” You muttered, eyes drooping, chest heaving with aftershocks of pain from the birth.
“A boy, my love.” Coryo’s eyes shone with tears, lips pressing together to conceal it. “It’s a boy. Our boy, my darling.”
“A boy…” Your speech was slurred, head lolling back onto the pillow.
Coriolanus noticed for the first time how still the room had become, his son’s wailing the only sound. The nurses and doctors, once chipper and gleeful, now bearing a sickly paleness to their face, eerily quiet.
“What? What’s wrong?” Coriolanus snapped, eyes wide, frantic, bouncing around the room. “What’s happening?”
“We-We can’t find-” The doctor’s voice shook, ducked between your legs in a pile of crimson. Coriolanus’ stomach turned violently.
“She’s bleeding. We-We can’t find where the bleeding is.” The nurse whispered.
“What?” Coriolanus snapped. “Bleeding? H-How can she- Find it!” The baby wailed over the sound of Coriolanus’ demanding barks.
“President Snow, we-we’re trying our best-”
“-Try harder.” Coriolanus sneered, clutching the baby closer to his chest. “If anything happens to my wife, I will single handedly ensure your bloodline ends with you. Each of you will know what it feels like to lose your family too if you lose her.” He spat, sending the nurses and doctors into a fearful frenzy.
The newborn wailed, doctors shouted, and Coriolanus’ ears rang, his chest too tight, painfully tight. He couldn’t lose you, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t survive that loss. His eyes fell to the screeching baby beneath him, scrunched face and wailing gums. How was he to raise this baby without you?
Anger boiled through his chest at the sight of his son- his fault. A cowering nurse, frozen in shaking fear in the corner, watched him carefully as he stormed towards her. “Take this.” Coriolanus sneered, shoving the baby in her arms.
He hated the feeling, the helplessness that consumed him as he stood, wide eyed and shaking hands he clenched into fists.
Somewhere, somehow, the doctor found the bleeding, stopping it with a triumphant cry. “Get the blood, get the blood!” He shouted, head hooked over his shoulder. “Infuse it now!”
Coriolanus wasn’t sure he could remember how to breathe. Memories of the two of your: the moment you met, the first date, his shaking hands asking for yours in marriage, the way you beamed under your veil at the altar, the same glow that you had when you told him you were pregnant. It could all be gone so easily. Had his father felt this way? So helpless?
Maybe that’s why he’d been so hardened and resentful, so he’d never feel attached- never allow himself to feel so helpless.
Coriolanus decided he couldn’t blame him, sitting in this chair, watching as you rested. The doctor said there’d be a lot of that in the coming hours. That you’d gone through trauma and you needed time. He wanted to rip you from the bed, shake you until you awoke and told him you were ok. He needed to hear it, maddenned himself with the need for it.
Instead, he sat.
Coryo sent the baby out to the nursery. He knew your parents, Tigris, everyone waiting would be thrilled to see the baby boy. Coryo just couldn’t muster the feigned excitement now. The site of his own son made his stomach turn, fear soaked repulsion settled deep in the pitt of his own core.
Somewhere in the night, you awoke. A rustling and a groan that had Coriolanus snapping out of his dazed sleep, head tucked to his shoulder, slumped in the chair beside your bed.
“Don’t move.” Coryo commanded, eyes a kind of bright, frantic wide that had you stilling.
Your throat burned, head dizzy with the medicine they’d pumped into your system. Coriolanus’ hands shook as he brought you the water, hand cupping your jaw gently to feed it to you. You blinked, bleary with confusion. “You’re alright, my love.” Coriolanus' heart swelled, suffocatingly in his own chest. You were alright.
“Coryo,” You croaked, throat tight, rasping from before, you were sure. You remembered the birth, most of it anyways, the blurry memory of your baby in Coryo’s arms before your memory failed. “The-The baby… Is he alright? W-Where’s my baby?”
“He’s with your parents, my love.” Coriolanus’ hand smoothes down your matted hair, sticky with dried sweat. “Nevermind him. How are you? Is anything wrong? Do you need anything? I-I’ll call for the nurse.”
You shook your head, looking around the room. The sheets were clean, your gown clean, but you felt an achy soreness splitting you in half. “What happened?”
Coriolanus felt the lump in his throat grow, strangling his words in his throat. “Y-You had some complications, darling.” He swallowed the burn of his own tears down in his throat. “You were bleeding but they stopped it.”
You blinked, unmoving, soaking in the details of your injury. Coriolanus watched you with a studying glare, eyes scanning for any tiny, minor infliction that something was wrong. “Is-Is the baby ok?” You whispered, eyes shining with fear when you met his gaze.
“The baby’s fine.” Coryo snapped, harsher than he meant to. It alarmed you, your eyes snapping to his carefully. He took a deep breath, holding your hand carefully into his own, thumb running over your knuckles.
“He’s fine.” Coryo said, softer this time. “I need to know how you are. What do you need from me, my love? What can I do to make it better?”
You squeezed his hand lightly, your strength weaker than normal. It made Coriolanus’ spine tingle with shooting chills of concern. “I want to see my baby.” You whispered, head leaning against Coryo’s shoulder.
“No,” Coriolanus shook his head furiously. “No, you-you need to rest, and-and not be bothered by the baby-”
“-Coryo,” Your eyes rounded, so pitifully pleading Coriolanus would have walked through fire for you if you asked him to. “Please? I just want to see our baby.”
And how could he say no? He couldn’t, so instead, Coriolanus called the nurse in. Your parents, proud grandparents, holding the baby, tutting over you. Everyone flitting about the birthing room, Tigris even gleaming with joy at the birth of her nephew. All except Coriolanus, who watched in the corner of the room, a stoic look on his face.
You looked positively radiant, glowing with joy as you held your son. As if that baby hadn’t nearly killed you, Coriolanus wanted to scream the reminder to you, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t dare upset you, risk upsetting you in front of your family.
“Coriolanus,” Tigris’ soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts, brought him away from his own sinking, heavy feelings of disappointment. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Tigris.” Coryo’s voice was tight, firm and forced, like the look of awkward contentment he tried to paint across his features.
“You… You haven’t held your son.” Tigris hesitated, voice dropping softly so the others wouldn’t overhear.
“I don’t wish to hold him right now.” Coriolanus sneered.
“He is your son, Coriolanus.” Tigris hissed, her voice dropping to a low hush in the room, terrified you or the others might hear.
“And he almost killed her.” Coryo’s eyes flashed to Tigris’ in horrified rage. “Nearly fated her as my sister did my mother, and if you think for one second I am to be happy at that, then you are-”
“-Coryo,” Your voice croaked, still weak and tired. It made his heart lurch, attention on you in a second, already walking towards your bedside.
“Yes, my love? What do you need?” Coriolanus muttered. Normally, he’d be embarrassed, showing such affection especially in front of your parents, but he hoped they’d pardon his vulnerability in the moment, given the circumstances.
“Look at him,” Your eyes shone with love, pure adoration, as if you weren’t cradling the very thing that almost killed you. It made Coryo sick. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”
Coriolanus looked down at the small newborn, wrapped in swaddles, eyes closed and lips twitching with the faintest whimper of a cry. He looked so much like you, so much like himself- the perfect blend of the two of you taking your lips but Coriolanus’ nose.
His heart swelled with pride before he could help it, lips curling in a half smile. He’d grown weak, Coriolanus decided, softened by you and your love. He should be disgusted by the baby, despise him and reject him like an animal in the wild would. But he couldn’t bring himself to it.
“A fine young boy.” Your father boasted, nodding proudly. “The two of you should be very proud.”
“Yes,” Coryo swallowed around the lump in his throat. You leaned into his touch, shifting the baby so he could better see him.
“Any idea on the name?” Your mother hummed, moving beside you.
“I still think Cyrene would be fitting.” You’re beaming, beautiful and proud when you meet Coriolanus’ gaze. “What do you think, Coryo?”
“Yes,” Coryo nodded. “I think that would be a fine name.”
“Cyrene Snow,” You cooed, pressing your nose to the baby’s, pressing a gentle kiss there. Your eyes brimmed with tears when you met Coriolanus’ gaze. “Do you want to hold him, darling?”
“Are you getting tired?” Coryo watched you carefully. “Do you feel alright?”
“Yes,” You nodded. “I don’t want to hog the baby. Want you to have a chance too, darling.”
“That’s alright.” Coryo shook his head politely, suddenly very aware of your parents and Tigris’ gaze on him. “You hold him, my love.”
You frowned lightly. You knew something was off with Coryo, the tightness in his tone, lips falling in a flat line. You waited until later, when Cyrene lay in his bassinet, your family all gone for the night, just you and Coryo in the birthing suite.
“Why will you not hold him?” You asked through the still darkness. Coriolanus' eyes snapped to yours fiercely, startled by your tone.
“Excuse me?”
“Our baby.” You groaned when you sat up, Coryo rushing to your side.
“You need to be careful-”
“-You won’t hold him, Coriolanus.” You gripped his arm, eyes shining in something new- something Coryo wasn’t certain of, but it made his stomach twist. “Why?”
Coriolanus swallowed, the lump in his throat suffocating him. “The last time I held him,” Coryo’s voice was soft, rasping in the quiet room, barely above a whisper. “You nearly died.”
The room was still, far too still for either of you to find comfort. A harsh, shocking truth for the both of you, sickening and cruel. Your near damned fated reality, Coriolanus’ worst fears, the peaceful baby resting in the bassinet besides the two of you.
Pressed into the side of your hospital bed, Coriolanus held you carefully, a stilled reminder that you were still there, that you hadn’t left him. The icy wall he’d built high for his son melted with every soft coo and whisper you gave him, a reminder that you were still with him and would be.
When Coryo finally held Cyrene again, when he’d stirred awake and you were asleep, he turned to the window overlooking Panem’s Capitol, eyes shining with tears- of regret, joy, pain? Even Coryo wasn’t sure, but he rocked his son to sleep carefully, promising him that one day, he’d have what Coryo had. That he wouldn’t leave him the way his father had, that he’d keep him safe, teach him how to keep you safe.
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x capitol!reader#tbosas#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow fic#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow x oc#coriolanus snow angst#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow fluff#coriolanus snow fanfic#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#tbosbas x reader#tbosas x reader#coriolanus snow x you smut#coriolanus x you#young!coriolanus snow#president snow#peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x female!reader#coriolanus snow x fem!reader#tbosbas fanfiction#tbosbas#tbosbas fic
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DCxDP fan fic Idea: Danny Fenton's Ex
Danny wants to know that he did not go looking for a fight. He merely wanted to have some of the best hot dogs this side of the USA, in Tucker's words. The human world had changed a lot across differnt timelines but his best friend had assure him, this one was particually tasty.
He planned to pop in, hunt down the street cart filled with buns and meat, then pop out of Gotham. He was meant to visit for less than an hour at most.
He just happened to be at the wrong place and time. It really wasn't his fault! Danny had been minding his own business, using a paper map on the edge of a tall building (his phone had broken in the last ghost fight. Not that it would do any good since it wasn't connected to any living towers), squinting at the streets below, hoping to figure out where he was. The next thing he knew, an angry child leaped out at him with a sword.
Of course, he defended himself! The kid was doing some insane slashes in the air, and Danny had fought enough samurai ghosts to know not to underestimate how powerful a katana indeed was. He had been able to beat the child, encasing his arms in ecto-chains, after a full half hour of combat.
Danny had been dead tired- pun not intended- but just as he thought he was done, a second child had leaped out at him. This one carrying a bo-staff. It took another thirty minutes to beat this one, and just as he was gearing up for a lecture, a third child appeared.
She was wearing all purple and seemed to favor strong kicks. Danny had the bruise to prove it, but just as he could take her down—and stop the other two from escaping since they were attempting to do so—he was attacked by an actual shadow and her red bucket-head friend.
Now, those two were difficult to beat, especially when it was two vs. one. Shadow reacted as if she could predict all of his moves before he even made them, while Bucket Head made incredible shots with his guns covering her attacks.
Danny had already been expelled from his other two fights, so it was a miracle he was able to trick Shadow by allowing more of Phantom to bleed into his fighting style. She couldn't predict the dead!
He ended up on a roof with five children- okay, more like a child, two teenagers, and what could be the early twenties, but they were all young to him. Each was tied up securely with some of his own ecto-chains and glaring- he could feel the hate in their eyes even behind their masks- trying desperately to catch his breath.
"Oh boy, I'm not as young as I used to be. " He gasps between huffs. Maybe Sam was on to something when she lectured them for not having enough greens, normal exercise routines, or even taking vitamins. They really weren't teenagers anymore. "Ugh, I think I pulled something. I need to lie down..."
Just as Danny is allowing himself to slide to the floor, two more shadows jump at him. This time he's far too tired to dodge, and the blue one manages to land a drop kick to his chin. The force has Danny spinning in place, losing his balance, and slamming hard against the roof.
The tied-up children cheer, and if he wasn't a walking bruise right now, Danny would be half tempted to show them all a round two.
"Great Gatsby!" He cries out of reflex, rolling onto his back, ready to take a swing-
"Danny?" a new familiar voice cuts in. The sound is something Danny will never forget, even after all the years they have been apart. He used to fall asleep to that voice, muttering into his hair and warm arms wrapped around him, making promises never kept.
Danny whips his head around to see a man in a bat costume. He squits, studying the strong curve of a very familiar jaw and his voice-
"Wayne?" He blinks. Those lips- so familiar and different all in one- curve into a surprise, but please smile. Yes, that is definitely Bruce.
"Danny, I haven't seen you since-"
"You broke up with me through a letter on the hotel note-pad? A note-pad that I had to pay for since you touched it!?" Danny hisses, suddenly energized with pure, unadulterated rage. The man freezes.
"I, uh, see you're still upset about that." Wayne winces, shuffling on his feet- Bruce Wayne, the little human he found wandering the Infinite Realms, rescued, helped, trained, and had become human again to have the man dump him to "find himself."
Danny knew he found a lot of ladies on his self-discovery trip. He never forgave him. It has been embarrassing to have to return to the Realms to his friends' knowing eyes and his sister's sad shrug.
You knew a human could never understand or live with beings like us. We aren't like them anymore. She had told him. It was bond to end in disaster.
"What is happening?" The bow-staff kid asks
"I don't know, but I don't like it," Blue tells him.
Danny ignores them to glare at the man. "What the hell are you doing here, Wayne?"
Wayne frowns. "You used to call me Bruce."
"I used to do a lot of things, Wayne." Danny stands, gesturing to the group of people he has captured. "Can you kindly disappear again? I'm in the middle of something."
The man makes no move to leave. Instead, he tilts his head. "Those are my children."
"Of course they are." Danny rolls his eyes. "Tell them to not attack innocent tourists-"
"Are you here on vacation? Would you like me to give you a tour?"
The familiar words- the ones from their first date- make rage boil in his core. "Oh, go burn in the worst levels of hell!"
He doesn't stick around for a reply, twisting in a tight circle and ripping a hole into the Realms. He ignores Wayne's call of his name; it's too late- fifteen years too late- and shifts back into Phantom.
He prays he never sees that deadbeat again. Or the family his wife gave him. Not that Danny cares; it's been years, and he could care less what Bruce Wayne and his stupid kin got up to.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Bruce, I say this with all my heart, what the fuck was that?"
"That was the one I let get away."
There is a moment of silence before Damian speaks up. "I demand to be taken out of my misery. Mercy, kill me now, Drake."
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#Danny Fenton's ex#Part 1#spirit halloween#Bruce fumbled Danny#Ghost king who is more other then human#Danny was just vibing before the bat clan came swinging#Damian mistook him for a villian#his siblings were trying to save him#Danny is stronger but they gave him a good fight#Bruce misses Danny
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The Villains Daughter
So! Years ago, back when the Justice League was only just starting out, only a year or two after their initial team-up, they had one of their biggest battles to date. A group of Extra-Dimensional Beings had burst into their reality, hellbent on destroying a Government Facility and the nearby small town in Illinois.
They barely managed to beat the Invading Army back, although the Government Facility and a part of the nearby Town had been destroyed in the battle.
Later, they would learn about what had happened. Apparently the Government Base, called a GIW Facility, had managed to finally Crack the secret to Interdimensional Travel a few days earlier. Unfortunately, they had opened a Portal into a Dimension known as the Ghost Zone, ruled over by a Tyrant King who wanted to enslaved all world under him. Their Breaching of the GZ had alerted the Tyrant King to the existence of their Dimension, and he had launched an immediate Invasion to try and take it over.
And the evidence supported this.
Wonder Woman shared Legends of her People, telling that their Founding Ancestor had fled the rule of a Tyrant King when she passed into the Afterlife.
Zatara shared his Magic Tomes, showing them passages detailing the horrific Rule of the Tyrant King of the Infinite Realms.
They even asked Boston Brand, the Deadman and resident Ghost about it. He hadn't been the the Ghost Zone in Years, but even he told them that he had personally fled the Tyrant King.
And they also learned that when the Tyrant King set his eyes on something, he did not falter on his Warpath to acquire it. The Tyrant King, Pariah Dark, would be back for their World, again and again.
And they needed to be prepared. This Battle was what kickstarted their true Commitment to the idea of a Team. They knew they could not defeat Pariah Dark alone, so they needed to remain as a Team.
But there was another thing that came about from the Battle.
While the JLA had been helping clean up, Wonder Woman came across a strange sight. A Baby had been left in the rubble of the GIW Building.
She asked around, investigated, and did all she could to find the babies parents. At first she thought that one of the GIW Agents had brought their kid to work that day, but their records indicated that none of the Agents had children of that Age. And Neither did any of the other workers who worked on the base, like the Janitors or the Kitchen Staff. And of they did, all of their children were accounted for.
She eventually came to the conclusion that the Baby must belong to somebody in the nearby Town, but that lead led nowhere either.
She finally came to the conclusion that the Baby's parents must have died in the Invasion, a very unfortunate but very real possibility. She was going to place her into the System, but over the course of her investigation she had grown fond of the Child.
She decided to Adopt the baby herself. She didn't know the child's name, so she had to come up with a new one.
"How do you like the name, Stella?"
The baby gurgled in delight.
...
Over the next decade of their Teams Existence, the Justice League had to fend off the Legions of the Ghost King's Army many more times. It seemed that Pariah had grown wise to the fact that they were the ones defending the Human Realm, as almost all of the later attacks were directed on them personally.
It made sense, they were the First Line of Defense against his Armies, if he managed to defeat them, their World would soon fall.
But they dealt with the attacks as they came. They had made it their mission to defend their Home from the Forced of Pariah Darks Army, and they would not falter now, or ever.
In the case of Wonder Woman, he Daughter had grown to be a fine little lady. Stella had eventually developed Powers similar to her mother, in that she could fly and had super strength, and had begged to be trained as a Hero.
And who was Diana to deny her Daughter her greatest wish? Over the next 5 years, Diana trained Stella in the ways of the Amazon's. Then, when Stella was 15, she had her join the newly formed Young Justice.
She made a great group of friends on that Team, and even started going by Ellie as a Nickname. Her best friend was by far Conner, though she didn't know why she felt such a strong connection to him? It felt like she could relate to him, but her situation was completely different?
Ah well, her Mom wouldn't mind having another kid, would she? She always wanted a Brother!
...
Meanwhile in the Ghost Zone, the Ghost King was getting anxious. After 15 years, his Agents in the Human Realm had finally managed to set up the Ritual needed to Summon Him into the Human Realm.
Who knew that accepting the Ghost King's Throne would bar him from entering the Human Realm through normal Means? He couldn't even use the Portal, he needed to be summoned or he simply wouldn't be able to leave his new home dimension.
But now, it was almost time. Just another year or two, and he would finally be able to enter the Human Realm. He would finally be able to Find Her. His Daugther.
Danny would finally be able to reunite with his daughter, Ellie.
#Dpxdc#Dp x dc#Dcxdp#Dc x dp#Danny Phantom#Dc#Dcu#Justice League#Wonder Woman#Diana adopts Ellie#Ellie was kidnapped by the GIW#Ellie was deaged so her Core would be able to grow alongside her Body#She doesn't know she even has powers aside from her flight and strength#They all just think that he is an unregistered classification of Metahuman and that's why her blood work didn't come back with a Meta Gene#Ellie Joins Young Justice#She is extremely uncomfortable when Superman rejects Connor but she doesn't know why#The Justice League thinks that Danny is a Villain#They think that he is Pariah Dark#Just under a new name#The whole world thinks that Danny is the greatest Supervillain to ever live#Including Ellie#She does not react well when she finds out that the World Greatest Evil is her Dad#Especially since she doesn't have the context#Danny attacked the JLA because she could sense that they had his daughter#He thought they were working with the GIW
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Our comfort
Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood x Comfort!Goddess!Reader. (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)
—£ Yes I know I haven’t finish the book but I actually couldn’t wait anymore. So, this is me with little knowledge so bare that in mind.
—£ Warnings: Book/show spoilers, Yandere! Behavior, Being bound to a place, Possessive behavior, Obsessive behavior, Manipulation, Characters fighting for the reader’s attention. Short.
You weren’t a known for too long goddess, much younger then rest of the gods. A teenager like age compared to them. It was strange to have more powerful gods look to you for comfort but you love it. As you are the goddess of comfort.
But, as the other gods started to have many demigods you saw how miserable they could get. You hated the fact they didn’t care for their children so you decided to stay at the camp for half-bloods when the time came.
The campers cling to you. You bring a comfort they never quite felt before. It was like a warm hug, like the ones they wanted from their parents.
You couldn’t leave, and at the beginning you were glad to accept that fate.
Almost always you are found surrounded by demigods and they just relax in your comfort. You are the one they go to with every worry in their mind.
Being close to Aphrodite, her seeing you as a sister and a younger child. Stories of your love for one another are still told today, as she gave ideas to the mortals of how great your relationship was. But in reality there wasn’t much to tell.
So her children have a mentality that they are your favorite and because of their mother, they have some sort of claim to you above the others. But that never works because you love the children equally.
The demigods have less nightmares with you around and watching over them.
Ares children fight often for your affection. They will constantly get into fights with others to show they deserve more time with you. Which you always scold them but it never sticks. They kiss their weapons each time to you, like a sign of good luck. Aries children are one of the worsts ones because they get aggressive at times, even with you. But the golds make them stop by punishing them, mostly their father.
Hermes children are hard to explain really. They aren’t aggressive, but they are mischievous. They take their revenge of stealing things from the other campers, pulling pranks. Or trapping some of them up and go straight to you before they can get there. Luke for instance, is always looking around for you and talking about his day. He’s either laying down next to you, or making you watch him train.
Many games of all houses take place just for you.
AnnaBeth, is constantly by your side when she has free time. She scares off people with a glare behind your back, knowing that she could put plan them. She also trains and makes you watcher her and needs your praise. Maybe, somehow you are her older sister. But, sometimes she just chills by your side not saying anything, she’s like a lost duck at times.
Grover however is actually a lost duck. You comfort him when his past missions fail and he loses kids. You are so nice to him and makes him feel special and brave. When he has to leave he keeps a coin in his pocket with your face on it and prays a lot. He’s not possessive much. He’s willing to take what he can get and is just happy to be there. But maybe if someone comes in when he’s “crying” and having you fuss over him then he’ll be a bit mad but never does anything about it.
When a new camper arrives you devote your time to them because they need it a little more. They come into a world they know nothing of, waiting for the parent they hardly know to claim them. You claim them like your own until the time comes.
So when Percy comes you feel something off with him, like he is special and in need of a lot. He lost his mom, taken from the world he knew.
Percy becomes the most possessive out of all of them.
He feels out of place but you are always there to listen to him. It doesn’t help that you follow him to make sure he’s okay. At the beginning you’re both following each other around.
“It’s okay, Percy.” You brush his hair lightly like his mother used to do. “You’ll get claim, and you’ll have glory.” And he doesn’t care if you say that to everyone because you make him feel special. 
Also, you protect the new bloods. So you’ll show up when he gets bullied and just raise one brow and they all back off. Can’t risk making you mad at them.
When Percy gets claimed he’s all alone again, no friends and the campers looking at him funny. Being one of the top threes son isn’t fun or easy. He shares a cabin all to himself.
So he starts to be the worst of them all. Raising his voice when you try and leave him and he manipulates you to stay with him. Can’t you see how alone he is?
He can’t sleep unless he knows your watching over him.
You pick no sides of the war. Your family will figure it out themselves, while you take care of their children.
#disney plus percy jackson#plantonic percy jackson x reader#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#yandere percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#platonic#yandere#grover underwood x reader#yandere annabeth chase#annabeth chase x reader#annabeth chase#grover underwood#yandere Grover underwood#yandere greek gods#yandere annabeth chase x reader#I stand peter Johnson
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Can you do a Tom blyth x reader where in a interview , the interviewer asks him if he wants to marry and have kids in the future and he answers that he already has a daughter with the reader and after few days he posts on Instagram a photo of his daughter playing in the grass when he was filming the movie nad the fans going crazy ( about how cute she is and smth like that )
My Girl || Tom Blyth x Actress!reader
A/n: baby fever right now is astronomically high 😭😭 also this song is my absolute fav and feels like it matches with this so def go listen to it!!!
Warnings: none :)
Wc:
Divider by @pommecita
“Tom, your fans have been asking if you plan on marrying and having children in the future,” Tom nods his head, a smile forming on his lips, “What can you say to them?” The interviewer directs her mic to Tom.
He could feel your eyes burning into the side of his face as his grip on your waist squeezes. “Marrying and having children?” Tom repeats. You watch in anticipation as you give him an encouraging smile. The two of you had been waiting for a moment like this.
It’s been three years since you gave birth to your daughter, Elsie, three years since Tom became a dad. The public had no idea whatsoever and you intended to keep it the way for a few years longer. Well, after a long conversation with Tom, it was time to stop hiding from the public.
“This is the first time I’ve actually spoken about this to the public but I have a daughter already,” His words make the women holding the mic gasp out loud as you both let out a chuckle at her reaction. “I know, shocking right!” Tom smiles.
“You have a daughter Tom? With….” She trails off as her eyes move to you. Tom pulls you to his chest as you give the woman a grin, nodding your head as she puts her hand on her chest and lets out another gasp. “Am I the first to know about this outside your close circles?” She asks.
“Yes! We’ve thought long and hard about releasing such private information but we decided it’s time we tell everyone. We can’t hide this forever,” You say as Tom watches you and nods. “Well there we have it! Tom Blyth and Y/n Y/l/n have a child together!” The interview says to the camera as you wave her goodbye and move along with the other cast members.
“That felt good,” You look up at Tom, happy to get it out. “It sure did, darling” He rubs your arm as the two of you take pictures for the paparazzi. Safe to say, that interview was blowing up.
Fans had mixed reactions to the news. Some were incredibly happy for the two of you, and some were utterly shocked at the news and were surprised at how the two of you kept this information on the low.
As you and Tom were doing the world promo tour with the rest of the cast members, there was always a question that popped up relating to your daughter, Elsie.
“Tom, Y/n! I think the internet is in shock to learn that you are parents to a three year old daughter, am I correct?” The man infront of you says as you both nod. “Yes! Our daughter’s name is Elsie, and we had a feeling this would shock fans quite a bit,” You quietly chuckle to yourself.
“It definitely has! How did you two pull this off? You know, not making fans suspect anything?” He asks as Tom replies, “Uh I think it was just mainly being super private about our personal lives. We both don’t share such information like that which lets us live peacefully without cameras following us around.”
“And you’ve done a wonderful job at that since we never knew about your three year old daughter,” He smiles as Tom thanks him, “Can you tell us more about Elsie? If you can?” He politely asks as you nod. “Of course. Well uh Elsie is very much a daddy’s girl,” You all chuckle as Tom holds your knee affectionately.
“She loves the outdoor so much, that’s where she wants to be most of the time.” Tom adds. “And how was it that you found out that you were going to be a dad, Tom?“
“Yes, so Y/n told me she was pregnant on my birthday in February I think it was?” He looks at you in confirmation as you nod, “It was actually during my auditioning progress for Billy the Kid. So when I got the role and started filming mid to late 2021, Elsie was already born”
“We were both 25 at the time and we felt like we were ready to you know, move onto the next chapter of our lives. I remember for my birthday, Y/n’s present to me was this baby onesie that said ‘daddy’s girl’” The man awes as Tom reminisces the moment.
“I was so shocked and happy that I started crying,” He laughs, “Correction, we started to cry,” You butt in with a small giggle. “I do have to mention, Y/n! You went through your pregnancy without the public even noticing! How in the world did you manage that as a public figure.
“It wasn’t hard, but at the same time it sort of was,” You let out a low chuckle as Tom rubs your thigh, listening to you talk. “I didn’t have any roles booked for that year so I just stayed on the low. I did what any other typical people did when they didn’t want others to notice your pregnancy which was to wear baggy clothes, covering my stomach and stuff like that.”
“I also made sure that people wouldn’t be able to recognise me when I was out in public and it worked very well.” “It did indeed. I think everyone wants to know, how’s life with a three year old daughter while filming. Was Elsie with the two of you went you filmed tbosas?”
“Yes she was actually! Everyone on set knew that we hadn’t said anything to the public about our daughter and they were such wonderful people and respected that. My mom also was with us to take care of Elsie when we weren’t able to.” “I don’t know how we would have lasted all those months without her honestly. She made everyone on set laugh, I actually think the cast members will start posting pictures of bts with Elsie now that we’ve released this information” Tom laughs as his mind goes back to all the time the crew would laugh at Elsie’s cuteness.
~
“You posted a picture on your instagram a couple days ago of you and your daughter, can you tell us a little bit of background information of this picture?” “Is this the one of you and Elsie in the forest?” You turn your head to Tom as he nods. “Yes! So that was the last day we filmed all the scenes in the forest. We’ve already said this I think but our daughter absolutely loves nature.”
“During takes she would just play around and I remember this one time, We were going through a scene and then Elsie just came up to me and clung around my leg while the cameras were rolling, do you remember that?” Tom grins at you as you recall the moment.
“I do, I have a video of it in my camera roll, it made everyone awe at her.” You let out a giggle as the interviewer smiles at the two of you. “It seems to me that the crew was pretty close to Elsie? Am I right in saying that?” You nod in agreement with her.
“We felt incredibly grateful of how everyone was so kind and supportive of the idea of Elsie being with us during the entirety of the filming process. The cast members would always be playing with her during our takes, and Elsie grew very fond of all of them.”
“Especially Viola actually!” Tom interjects as the interviewer gasps, “Really?” “Yes! Viola is such a sweetheart I honestly love her so much. Even when she was in her costume and she kinda looked terrifying, Elsie would always run up to her after the cameras stop rolling.” He chuckles.
The two of you honestly loved talking about Elsie during all your interviews. Your face would always hurt from smiling too much when you reminisce all the moments of your daughter during filming.
#tom blyth#tom blyth imagine#tom blyth x reader#dad!tomblyth#fanfiction#coriolanus snow#the hunger games#hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tomblythxactress!reader#tomblythfluff#coriolanus x reader#tom blyth x actress!reader#dad!tom blyth x reader#social media#social media au
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Fighting Fate (It’s a losing battle)
Theodore Nott x gn!reader
Inspired by, and dedicated to @musingsofahufflepuff
Summary: soulmate!au in which everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate. Bold of fate to assume it can tell you what to do.
word count: 3.1k
©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.
Ever since your first day at Hogwarts, you’d been told that you were lucky. A one in a million chance. Exceptional. Because as soon as you’d been sorted, and the sorting hat had been lifted up off of your head, your eyes had met his, and the world had burst into color.
It had been wildly disorientating at first- you almost fainted from the visual overload as the banners over each section of students burst into bright color. As you went to take your seat, you got strange looks from several students, but you never felt his eyes leave you.
You’d always thought it was rubbish. Even at the ripe old age of eleven. Your mother had first explained the idea of soulmates to you as a bedtime story. You remember her explaining how everything looked bland and colorless now because you hadn’t met your soulmate yet. But once you did, the world would come to life.
“When will I meet my soulmate?” You’d asked.
“Well, that’s the catch isn’t it? It’s different for everyone. Some meet their soulmate very young. At school even. But some, some will never meet their soulmate. They can be anywhere in the world, fate doesn’t discriminate.”
You’d scrunched your little nose up in distaste.
“That’s stupid. Why do I have to listen to fate?”
Your mother had only laughed, tucking you in and kissing your forehead goodnight. But the sentiment had remained as you grew up. How could someone really just be meant for you? Ridiculous.
Theo had known that you were going to be his soulmate before fate did. He’d watched silently from his seat on the train as you boarded, a nervous grin on your face as you waved goodbye to your family. You were perfect, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. At least until Mattheo swatted his arm.
“What’re you staring at, mate?” He’d asked loudly, gaining the attention of the other boys in the carriage.
“See them, there?” Theo asked, pointing to where you were boarding. “That’s going to be my soulmate.” He’d announced proudly.
“Yeah, okay mate,” the other boys had laughed, quickly moving on to the next topic.
But Theo didn’t take his eyes off of you until you disappeared through the train doors and off into some unknown compartment.
The next time he saw you was at the sorting ceremony. He watched as you confidently made your way up to the front, the smile never leaving your face as McGonagall lowered the hat onto your head. It only took a few moments of deliberation before the hat was being lifted off of your head and Theo’s eyes met yours.
It was like the wind was taken out of him as the room sprung to life, colors swirling around his vision as his eyes raced around the room in awe.
By the end of the night, all of Theo’s friends had been sorted into Slytherin with him. Mattheo, Enzo, Draco, Blaise. Even Crabbe and Goyle.
“I was right on the train. About them being my soulmate,” he’d announced proudly, pointing out different objects and describing the different colors to his friends who wondered in amazement.
You on the other hand, didn’t speak a word of it to anyone until you accidentally let it slip to your mother over break that you could see the pretty colored ornaments strung up on the tree.
She’d been thrilled of course, wanting to know every detail about this soulmate of yours. What did he look like? What house was he? Had the two of you spoken.
You answered each question with less enthusiasm than the one prior, and eventually she got the point and stopped asking.
As soon as the news slipped that Theodore Nott, a child of the sacred twenty-eight, and son of Tiberius Nott no less, could see in color however, it didn’t take long for people to start noticing you. Telling you how lucky you were to have found your soulmate. To be able to see color. As if you wanted a soulmate at eleven years old.
The first few years it was easy to avoid. Being only eleven or twelve, Theo was content admiring you from a far. Third year was when the boy finally got the courage to really try and talk to you for the first time. Sure he’d said hi a few times over the past couple years, but nothing you’d found particularly note worthy. Especially not for someone who was supposedly your soulmate.
“Are you any good at charms?” A voice asks, startling you as you look up from the essay you had been finishing up in the court yard. It was a warm, cloudy day, with only a light breeze, so you’d thought it would be the perfect day to take your studies outside.
You stare up in surprise at the brunette boy in front of you, watching silently as he takes a seat across from you.
In the past, you'd played the avoiding game, quickly scurrying off if you saw the boy or his friends approaching. This year, you hadn't been taking the same precautions, and it seemed Theodore was taking full advantage.
“I’m alright,” you reply hesitantly.
That was a lie. Charms was your best subject, but you were hoping the boy might go away. He didn’t.
"I know that you're top of the class," he responds, staring intently at you with a sly smirk.
That afternoon you begrudgingly helped Theodore with his charms homework, and he happily helped you with your DADA essay. There wasn’t a whole lot of interaction between the two of you, but he wasn’t horrible you supposed. At least he had brain cells to rub together.
After that he kept popping up sporadically throughout your third year.
At quidditch tryouts he'd insisted on partnering with you for several of the drills. You both were offered a place on the team. In the Great Hall he'd seek you out to ask about the homework assignment he'd missed after skiving off of class with Mattheo. The fact that you gave him your notes each time meant nothing. Obviously. And every so often, between the shelves of books in the library, you'd see a flash of soft brown hair, and intense eyes gazing at you before they disappeared as if you were imagining it.
With each increasing encounter, the both of you made idle conversation as you kept the boy at an arms length. It was nothing personal really. In fact the more you thought about it, he seemed perfectly alright. But something in your stubborn thirteen year old self just wanted to stick it to fate. So you continued to ice the boy out.
Theodore however, was nothing if not determined. He knew from the moment he saw you that he was meant to be yours, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers. Thirteen year old Theodore was a stubborn bastard and he knew he was willing to play the long game.
Things grew a bit more complicated in fourth year when you became friends with some of the Slytherin crowd.
It had been an accident really. You’d been reading down by the Black Lake when Daphne Greengrass had stumbled upon you, followed closely by Pansy Parkinson and Lorenzo Berkshire.
“Oh!” she’d said in delight, seeing the book in your hands, “I love that book!”
The two of you ended up talking enthusiastically about the novel for almost an entire hour with Pansy and Enzo butting in every so often to add their thoughts.
“Wait, you’re Theodore’s soulmate aren’t you?” Enzo asks, eventually recognizing you.
You eye the boy cautiously as you nod slowly, suddenly feeling self conscious.
Pansy just wrinkles her nose.
“Sorry you got stuck with such a tosser.” She says.
The four of you are quiet for a moment before your laughter breaks the silence, the other three following shortly after.
After that, you’re integrated into their little group seamlessly. You’d always been a bit of a loner. Sure people would wander up to you often enough to chatter about what it was like to see colors, but that was really all people wanted to know about you. Like it was some trivial party trick.
It was nice having your own friends to study with and wander about Hogsmeade with on the weekends. It was nice to have people who liked being around you simply for being you. Not because some magical force had decided to bind you to a whole other human and grant you the ability to see color.
It didn’t take long for Theo to notice you hanging about more frequently. How could he not? You were so pretty. So smart and witty. So perfect. He was just so happy to have you around more often. Even if it wasn’t to spend time with him specifically.
He reveled in any little morsel of information that he could scrape up from your friends. Your favorite color, your favorite sweets at Honeydukes, your class schedule. Theo was willing to admit the last one was a bit weird, but he was really just hungry to learn anything he could about his elusive soulmate.
Soon enough, it didn’t become unusual for Theodore and Mattheo to join the four of you on your little excursions. Popping up at the Black Lake, or meeting up with you at the Three Broomsticks. He was just always there. As if he was making a point of it. And begrudgingly you began to let him in.
A friend of your friends was okay you thought. Wouldn’t hurt to get to know him a bit. That wasn’t crossing any lines.
For Theo however, this was huge. He was finally getting somewhere. Even if you weren’t ready for any sort of romantic relationship, he was going to be the best damn friend you’d ever had.
By fifth year, there was simply no denying it. Theodore Nott was your best friend. You weren’t really sure how it had happened. The two of you just fit so well together. He had truly wormed his way into your life.
It had started with the study sessions.
"Remember when you helped me with charms in third year?" He'd asked. "I got top marks on that assignment."
As those became more frequent, it had turned into afternoons by the lake with both of you deep in your own novels, but sharing the comfortable silence.
Then it had morphed into weekends at Hogsmeade. Your friends thought they were being subtle when they consistently slipped away, leaving you and Theo to wander about the village. You couldn't find it in yourself to mind though.
You’d tried to keep him at an arms length. You really had. But Enzo couldn’t make you laugh as hard as you did with Theo. And Daphne just wasn’t the intellectual match that Theo was. And Pansy always made sure you let loose sure, but being around Theo was just- freeing.
You still weren’t sold on the whole soulmate thing though. Sure Theo was great. Perfect even. But you just couldn’t shake the icky feeling of blindly trusting fate to decide your life.
Then it happened. No one was expecting it. Especially not Pansy. But you and Pansy and Draco and Theo had all been working late on a potions assignment before dinner, and on your way back up from the dungeons, Pansy ran smack into a certain platinum haired Ravenclaw. You’d later find out that her name was Luna Lovegood. As soon as their eyes met, Pansy stumbled, leaning into you for support. You already knew what was happening as her eyes darted around wildly.
“Oh. I suppose we’re soulmates then aren’t we?” The girl said, a dreamy look overtaking her.
It all seemed too easy for them after that. It was like a flip had switched and the two were just mad for each other. A picture perfect example of what soulmates should be.
You found it to be slightly horrifying how blindly trusting fate could severely change a person and their relationship with an essential stranger.
Theo however, couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. He had what? Almost five whole years on Pansy, and was lucky to get a friendly hug out of his soulmate. Yet Pansy and Luna were inseparable after only a few short weeks.
Not that Theo thought he was entitled to your affection necessarily. But it would be nice if you’d at least acknowledge the bond you two shared he thought.
“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” Daphne asks one night.
It was one of those rare nights where it was only you, Daphne, Pansy, and Enzo huddled together wrapped in thick, warm blankets inside Daphne and Pansy’s dorm room. Salazar knows where Millicent was off spending her night. A bottle of shared fire whisky sat between you and packs of chocolate frogs littered the floor.
You blink in surprise at your friend’s question. You didn’t talk about soulmate stuff much.
“I do believe in them,” you say with a simple shrug.
“Yeah but you don’t really believe in them, ya know? Why?” She pushes.
You pause again, glancing at Pansy who was looking back at you intently.
“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t like the idea of someone deciding to be with me, just because they’re supposed to.” You say finally.
“I suppose I know what you mean.” Pansy murmurs after a moment.
You look at the girl in surprise and can tell the other two are shocked as well.
“Don’t get me wrong. I adore Luna. Really. I always tell her that I’m so glad that fate put us together. But then sometimes I wonder. If it weren’t for fate, would I have even given her a second glance that day I bumped into her in the corridor?”
There’s a silent lull as your group mulls over Pansy’s words before slowly drifting off to a new topic.
In another dorm, not so far off, Theo lay on his bed staring blankly up at the ceiling.
“Think they’ll come around soon?” Mattheo asks, sensing his roommate’s building tension.
“I dunno. But I’ll wait,” he replies, closing his eyes and letting images of you flood his mind. “They’re worth it.”
That night as you’re leaving to return to your dorm, Enzo catches your arm, pulling you off to the side.
“You can never tell Theo that I told you this, but the first time I met Theo, we were on the train waiting to leave for Hogwarts and he pointed out the window to a someone and said ‘they’re going to be my soulmate’. Then, at the sorting ceremony he got all dizzy all the sudden, and when we got to the common room, he said that he’d been right about who his soulmate would be. You. Just thought you should know.”
And with that, he’s gone.
It’s after that that you really begin to see Theo. You’d never really given him a fighting chance. But now, you kind of wanted to.
It’s the beginning of sixth year when Theo finally notices the shift. Notices you actually seeking him out on purpose, not flinching away when your hands brush, eyes hovering on his lips a bit too long for it to be accidental. And to say that he is ecstatic.
Meanwhile you were silently kicking yourself for taking so long to get over your petty bullshit with fate. Sure you still didn’t love the idea of it all, but after spending enough time with Theo, you could really, truly see the appeal.
After that night in fifth year, you began noticing how Theodore was one of the only students who could keep up with your academic prowess. He could always sense when you were tired, or stressed, or simply in a mood, and always did his best to subtly cheer you up. He was always there. Even after all the years you had put him through the wringer, he remained by your side. And that’s what really convinced you.
It’s also what landed you here, at the top of the astronomy tower, with your head in Theodore’s lap as his fingers raked gently through your hair.
It had become a usual meeting spot for the both of you. Theo had brought you up here a week into the school year starting. It was his safe place. His getaway when everything got to be too much, or when he just needed space to think. When those words had left his mouth you had melted. He trusted you. You had meant so much to him for so long, and you couldn't be bothered to give him the time of day.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, eyes gazing out at the swirling navy sky that seemed to stretch on forever.
“For what, amore?”
“Dunno. Making you feel like you weren’t good enough, or makin you feel like a bad soulmate.”
Theo looks down at you, and you meet his steady gaze.
“I knew I was good enough, amore. We wouldn’t be soulmates if we weren’t perfect for each other.” He replies.
You perk up at this. “You think I’m perfect?” You ask, a dopey smile appearing on your face.
Theo just rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he laughs. He'd grown used to your antics. Just another piece of you that he'd grown fond of.
“I said that we’re perfect together. But you’re perfect too I suppose.”
It hadn’t taken nearly as long as you had expected to reach this point. It seemed that Theo had just been waiting for the word to switch on boyfriend mode. All it took was one spontaneous, heated make out session in his dorm room, and you had the boy wrapped around your finger. (He already had been for years, but you didn’t need to know that.)
“Alright. Wrap it up love birds. You better be fully clothed,” Pansy calls, head peeping up from the top of the staircase leading up to the tower. “You two have been up here for hours, and you can’t have them all to yourself Theodore. They were our friend first.”
“Yeah! Time’s up lover boy!” You hear Enzo call.
Theo groans, head falling back as he rises lazily, offering you a hand up.
“I waited five years for this, can’t you guys let me have my moment?” He calls back.
“No!” The chorus replies.
With a laugh, you grab onto Theo’s hand, tugging him towards the stairs.
“C’mon. If we get Mattheo and Enzo drunk enough, they won’t notice if I spend the night,” you say with a cheeky wink.
“I heard that!” Enzo’s voice rings out.
“You wouldn’t say no to me anyway,” you shout back.
With a smile, Theo follows you down the stairs after your rowdy friends, hand wrapped tightly around yours. It had taken him five long years, and he certainly wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.
I'm a sucker for soulmate aus
#slytherin boys#theodore nott#harry potter universe#slytherin#lorenzo berkshire#matteo riddle#theo nott#draco malfoy#enzo berkshire#theo nott fanfiction#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x y/n#daphne greengrass#theo nott x reader#slytherin boys fanfiction#soulmate au#soulmates
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The New York Times had an article about "Chonkosaurus", a very large snapping turtle spotted in the Chicago River. According to a wildlife biologist they quote, she's female and probably full of eggs, one reason she looks so...chonky. The wildlife biologist estimated her weight at 40 pounds (18kg) and her age at 50 years based on photos and video.
The article went on to say that the Chicago River had essentially been an open sewer before the passage of the Clean Water Act in 1973. Now it's a nice place to go kayaking on a sunny weekend!
But they never quite connected the dots. Ms. Chonkosaurus hatched about 50 years ago--in other words, she was born at the same time as the Clean Water Act passed. She's lived through the entirety of the river recovery. When the eggs she's carrying hatch, they will be born into a profoundly different--better!--world than she was.
I'm a little older than Chonkosaurus and the Clean Water Act. When I was a child the idea of swimming or kayaking in a metropolitan river would have been...well. Jokes about up shit creek without a paddle because the paddle dissolved in the toxic sludge? I remember seeing the oily sheen on the Ohio River in Cincinnati. It was just what a city river looked like.
Now...May 2023...there are warning on television about swimming in the Willamette River in Portland during the current heat emergency. Because the water is too cold! Jump into the water and the cold shock can paralyze you long enough to drown. But it's clean (clean snow melt fresh off the Cascade mountains, brrr).
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