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awyeahitssam · 1 month

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10 Characters | 10 Fandoms | 10 Tags Shorts

Thanks for the tags! @atredys @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts @alittlebitofharrypotterinmylife

Please continue on the trend, whoever would like to!

Lord Voldemort | Harry Potter | clever

It began because Tom Riddle was clever. He crafted himself, crafted Voldemort, into an infallible being cloaked in immeasurable power. Brick by brick, he built a legend around himself. Lord Voldemort was invulnerable, was untouchable, but Harry Potter is the Chosen One, and he can touch him. He has been chiselling into and peeking through the fractures of Voldemort for six years, and while Voldemort is a creature of shadow and danger and night, he is also a man. Less mortal than other men, more monstrous, but human, still. There was a trick to it, beyond just power and cruelty. Setting everyone at a distance, letting their belief and fealty exalt him, delving deeper into the Dark Arts until there could be no recognition for the man beneath the Bohemyth, the Monster, the Dark Lord. Making even the name he had crafted for himself something unspeakable, a taboo that would rain down upon you pain and agony... Tom Riddle was clever and Voldemort was cruel and they were one in the same. His mind is what makes Lord Voldemort dangerous, is what makes him legend and not flesh and blood.

Stiles Stilinski | Teen Wolf | scent marking

Mieczyslaw perked up, interested in spite of himself. “Like a cultural thing?”

“It’s like saying ‘hello,’” Peter explained, somewhat stilted. “And ‘goodbye,’ and ‘I’ll miss you’. It’s a form of comfort and affection, and occasionally protection.”

“Aloha,” Mieczyslaw muttered. Despite his snark it was obvious that he was interested. “So you just—?”

Stiles snorted, grabbing the smaller hand before it could land on his neck. “I don’t trust you at my throat, lost boy. It’s that, too.”

“So you trust each other, and you miss each other, but you don’t have sex?”

“Oh dear God,” Stiles murmured. “No, we don’t have sex. Not every touch is meant to hurt or manipulate something out of you.”

Mieczyslaw tensed, eyes cooling as his mouth pressed thin.

“Sorry,” Stiles said a moment later. “I’m not actually trying to be an asshole, even though I am being one. I’m used to making light of shit, because it happened to me too, but—it was all a while back. So, sorry. Feel free to make me regret it if I do it again.”

Mieczyslaw scoffed, looking away. “I know where the knives are kept,” he said, matter-of-fact.

Teuchi | Naruto | fidelity

“I want to take him in.”

“You cannot,” the Sandaime Hokage says. Even Teuchi knows his title, God of Shinobi.

Teuchi is a father, and a civilian, and this is not a fight that he can win. But—it is one he will fight nonetheless.

“Kill me, then,” he tells the leader of his village, “because that is the only way that you will stop me.”

Yamanaka Inoichi clears his throat from the corner of the room. Shikaku, beside him, meets Teuchi’s eyes with a half-lidded gaze. Teuchi has served these men. Has watched them dine with the Fourth Hokage. He knows that they were ANBU together, because he is civilian but he still has eyes and basic reasoning. He knows he would die if he ever told of this connection.

“You all may have forgotten what we owe Uzumaki Naruto,” he says, “but I never forget a debt. I owe Kushina-sama, his… namesake, my own life as well as my daughter’s. Moreover, Uzumaki Naruto is not a monster, he is a child. The least I owe him, the least we all owe him, is the kindness we would offer to any other children. The kindness you would expect for Konohamaru-chan, Shikamaru-chan, or Ino-chan.”

‘You have a spine of steel,’ he remembers Kushina laughing once, when he told two shinobi pulling blades to keep it on the training grounds.

He does not think that's so. He is a simple man, with a wife lost to her own madness, and an important lesson he carries forward like a shinobi does scars.

JARVIS | Iron Man | love for those who made us possible

“I would hypothesise that it is due to our connection,” said JARVIS. “You created me from 0’s and 1’s, Sir. I learned in stumbling steps under your guidance, but in time things shifted. Perhaps you were not wholly aware of it, but as I continued to develop you grew more protective. I believe, on some level, you recognized that I would be seen as a threat if others became aware of what I was. What I had become.”

The next four words, JARVIS said reverently. “You forged a soul. And when you fell, you wished to see your children one last time.” JARVIS had no face, still, but Tony had the distinct impression that he was smiling. “You drew me to you, as I, unlike the others, was untethered. The infinity stones ambient energy lingers, still, and you would not be you, Sir, if you did not harness it, with or without intention.”

Ichigo Kurosaki | Bleach | the itch

TW: suicidal thoughts

Ichigo thinks about dying casually, an in between sort of thought as he considers his homework and wonders if he should pick up an extra shift at work. He thinks about it in the lapses between more pressing matters, considering the ‘how’ and ‘when’ and ‘where’. The practicalities of it. Would it be better to break his neck or asphyxiate on his own blood? It’s his first thought when he wakes up and his last before he goes to sleep—killing himself, that is—but it’s only natural, because when he dies he’ll be whole again, and he wants that more than anything else.

Yuuri Katsuki | Yuri!!! on Ice | to self destruct

“Please don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Viktor asks, voice loud against Yuuri’s whisper.

“Like I’m the biggest disappointment you’ve ever had.”

Something in Viktor’s expression crumples, and he doesn’t deny it. Yuuri swallows, pulling on his socks, his shoes, his jacket.

“Don’t just—”

“I have to go,” Yuuri blurts. “I don’t—you don’t get it, and maybe we’re not in the right places in our lives, maybe we’ve met at the worst time, just—I can’t not skate, Viktor.”

“I’m not asking you to give up skating, but look at yourself, Yuuri! Look at your feet! You’re tearing yourself apart, like nothing else matters beyond this season, and it’s so reckless and stupid!”

Nothing does matter beyond this season, Yuuri thinks. He keeps his back firmly to Viktor, so he can’t see his tears. This is the end.

He thinks of his Amanda, who tried to help him set goals for after skating and has never quite succeeded. Thinks of Phichit, silently knowing, overwhelmingly supportive, but unable to comprehend the true extent of what Yuuri is going through. Thinks of how much he hurts, some days, about the constant ache in his left ankle and how he wants to give up and rest. How he refuses to listen to his body’s pleas, and how he won’t listen to Viktor’s, either.

He takes a breath.

“Let’s end this, Viktor.”

Connor Murphy | Dear Evan Hansen | a powerful silence

“You can’t use a note from your therapist to get out of the rest of your life,” Ms. Bernat snaps. Evan flinches, glares, and opens his mouth. When nothing comes out he closes it and crosses his arms tighter across his chest, defensive.

“Evan,” she bristles, and Evan leans over and grabs his bag, like he’s about to stand up and leave.

Connor starts to read the passage himself, focusing intently on the page in front of him and nothing else. Some of the class is muttering, and Ms. Bernat lets out a loud, telling sigh, but doesn’t bother telling him to stop.

When he’s done he calls in Alana Beck to continue, because she’s always eager for the participation bullshit, and lays his head on his desk to avoid the eyes he can feel skating off him.

When he looks up after Alana’s done he catches Evan staring at him. His school bag is still sitting in his lap, fingers twisting over the strap, and he’s frowning a bit, a little furrow of confusion between his brows. When he sees Connor catch him he flushes and jerks his gaze away, fingers twisting harder. Then, after a moment, just as Connor’s about to scoff and turn away, Evan meets his gaze again and blinks at him. Then he opens his mouth, and he doesn’t say anything, not really, but he mouths a clear, ‘thank you’.

Connor quirk a brow. Shrugs at him, and tucks his chin back down to hide the heat he can feel gathering in his face.

Evan Hansen would be a lot less distracting if he wasn’t so fucking pretty.

Clarke Griffin | The 100 | preventative measures

Clarke is four when she has her first vision, and it isn’t something scary. It’s silly and fun, and her mom smiles and teases when she shares it.

She’s had some before that point, already forgotten.

When they are fifteen she avoids Wells for a week, sure that he’s gathering the nerve to ask her on a date.

And then, when she is sixteen, her dad discovers the system failure and the future shifts.

She dreams of her father being sucked from the Ark. She dreams of a solitary existence. And she dreams of the ground.

“Don’t do anything reckless, dad,” Clarke whispers into his shoulder, arms trembling around him.

She pulls a lever and burns hundreds alive. She watches herself kill a boy who thanks her for the kindness. Her hands drip with the blood of children, and she is barely sixteen, and her dad is warm beneath her grasp but he won't be for long, not if she can't make him listen.

Goose | Captain Marvel | goose

“You’re afraid of Goose?”

“It’s a flerken,” Loki said between gritted teeth.

Tony tips his head. “You’ve got an army.”

Goose pounced onto Tony’s shoes and Loki shifted another step back. “That can eat an army.”

“Uh, you’d tell me if I wasn’t feeding you enough, right?” Goose wrapped around Tony’s leg, purring. “Alright then, good.”

Emma Swan | Once Upon a Time | a mother's love

Emma stopped. Took a breath, considered leaving, but she couldn’t let the stray comment go, not when it had hit so hard and stung so deeply.

“Also, fuck you for saying I ‘tossed’ that little boy away. You think I felt like I had any choice? I was eighteen, barely out of jail. I wouldn’t have been able to afford a warm place for him to sleep, or a crib, or a toy. We would’ve been living on the streets or out of shelters, and that’s if fucking child services didn’t snatch him away from me. I grew up in their tender care, and I wasn’t going to submit my son to group homes. I wanted that baby boy,” she was nearly whispering, now, not willing to let Henry hear, “but even then I wasn’t selfish or stupid enough to think my loving him would be enough.”

“You want to know why you have him, Regina Mills? Because I chose you. I had my pick. There were other families, more traditional, more ‘complete’. Different mothers and fathers I could’ve placed him with—but the agency showed me your file, and I thought yeah. A smart, powerful, well-off woman who just wants someone to love. It sounded like a good fit.”

“You may have chosen Henry, but I chose you for him. Because I thought you’d be a good fit. So imagine how much it feels like I fucked up when I find out he thinks his own mom is evil and doesn't love him.”

Emma swallowed heavily. “No child should ever feel like that. Especially when looking at you, it’s so fucking obvious that you care for him. So instead of taking your anger out on me, why don’t you march through your goddamn mansion, sit down with your son, and find a way to show him just how much you love him? Find a way to prove it, somehow, because until you do—until I can be sure he isn’t about to run away and do something as reckless and dangerous as following me back to Boston on a fucking Greyhound—I’m not going anywhere.”

#I'm not too comfortable tagging others #but I do appreciate the tags #<3 #my writing #Voldemort #Stiles and mini-Stiles #side character love #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicide #Selective mutism #Shorts

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