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#king on the barricade
theirloveisgross · 2 years
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what the fuck is this. he's an absolute masterpiece. fucking hell.
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padfootstolemycrumpets · 11 months
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maggieisalarrie · 11 months
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Here are a few of my favorite pics from the Columbus show
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vodid · 2 years
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a Sovereign's Legacy
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dan also controversially exposed will as a laughter lines hater on saturday
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murderballadeer · 1 year
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i was gonna say christmas in washington by steve earle is a rare good christmas song but the thing is it's not even a christmas song it's just called that
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so-idialed-9 · 2 years
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If you look up touch is my love language, this is the picture you'll find
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The day after fans stripped him at barricade. This man loves it.
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vivalamusaine · 2 years
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That link meme was so true it really is my mental breakdown and the les mis soundtrack really is my coping mechanism. Just had a panic attack at work and played the 25th anniversary and as soon as bishop myriel started singing I was risen again
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crushmeeren · 5 months
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Levi/Fem Reader SFW & NSFW Headcannons
Warnings; making out, pussy eating, some dirty talk, vaginal sex, light choking, hickies, doggy style, squirting, Levi paints your back
Note; please do enjoy this brain food, I love Levi & I’m emotionally scarred about the AOT ending so yeah
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Levi who has the most black cat esq energy you’ve ever seen, who is the king of not giving a single fuck, who is brutally blunt, with a tongue sharper than a knife—but who has the strongest will, who has a kind heart (he just has a hard time expressing it), who loves fiercely & with every fiber of his being
Levi who feels most at home when he can relax in a dark room & listen to his favorite podcast or watch his favorite shows, who finds it calming & a source of comfort, who thrives during the nighttime, (you’ve definitely come home during the middle of the day only to have the shit scared out of you when you find Levi just sitting in your completely dark bedroom)
Levi who owns an all black, large fluffly dog who he has affectionately named Beartooth—who has no idea what breed his dog is, he just showed up at his house and never left (Levi complained at first but you know it’s a lie because you always find them napping together—very much two peas in a pod)
Levi who you met when you were attending a rock concert, who is the head of security for a very large, very popular concert venue, who was actually working the barricade because “one of his fucking shitheads called in”—lucky for you because you ended up giving him your number & he actually fucking texted you
Levi who legitimately looks like he was carved out of stone, who is so so fucking hot, who winks at you whenever he catches you staring at him (which is often—but who could blame you? The man’s a god), whose side profile is so unfairly pretty you can’t stand it
Levi who adores rainy days, especially when it’s cold, who lives for these types of afternoons when he can relax with you, drinking hot coffee and having movie marathons —whether it’s in the couch or in your shared bed
Levi who has an absent minded habit of fiddling with your fingers no matter where you are, who softly traces the lengths of each one—paying special attention to the bumps of your knuckles, who places your hand in his lap and draws shapes & words you can sometimes decipher on your palm (you have to pull away once it’s starts to tickle too much—but never for long)
Levi who lives in black clothing (seriously you aren’t sure you’ve ever come across an article of his clothing that isn’t black), who says it’s his favorite color, who really enjoys wearing Doc Martens (he says he likes the aesthetic)
Levi who has a gorgeous sleeve decorating his right arm, who has multiple tattoos all over his chest, his back, his legs—even a spine tattoo, which you almost drool seeing for the first time (you feel smug that you’re the only one that’s granted permission to see all the hidden ones—especially the spine art, it makes your knees weak)
Levi who can be as cold as ice, a jackass to everyone—always having a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue, but—not with you, he talks to you as if you’re the center of his world, looking at you like you hung the stars (not to say he doesn’t still call you an idiot—although it’s said fondly)
Levi who is unnervingly smart, who always seems to be one step ahead, who seems like he can tell the future — it genuinely gives you chills
Levi who secretly has the warmest smile, who graces you with it the most when you’re at home together, who gives you butterflies everytime it’s directed at you
Levi who loves you so deeply you never doubt for a second how he feels, who supports you in everything you do, who is the quiet, most consistent rock in your life, who is your best friend & who you spend the rest of your life with blissfully
NSFW BELOW
Levi who doesn’t have the highest sex drive, but when he is in the mood—you get fucked so much in one night you swear your pussy is swollen & you won’t be able to walk the next day
Levi who will get instantly hard—cock full, hot & heavy against his thigh whenever he sees you come out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, who groans when he smells your sweet smelling soap, who shoves his face into your neck & inhales deeply—loving the feel of your slightly damp & warm skin (he gets turned on knowing you’re squeaky clean)
Levi who will spread you out on the bed, unwrapping your towel like you’re the best present he’s ever received, who grips your tits & pinches your nipples, soft lips pressed firmly against yours as he licks into your mouth—trying to eat you whole
Levi who is possessive, who loves to sink his teeth into your neck, your tits, the sensitive inner skin of your thighs, who leaves dark marks in the shape of a twisted necklace on your collarbone—biting & sucking until your pussy is drooling for him & your gripping his hair so tight it makes his scalp tingle with pain (which he fucking loves)
Levi who takes it upon himself to push your thighs so far towards your chest that your hips lift off the mattress as he kitten licks at your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking gently while he flicks his tongue mercilessly—intent on making you cum
Levi who eats pussy like a champ so it doesn’t take you long until your thighs are twitching under his grip, who lets you relax back onto the bed as he slips his middle two fingers into your pussy so you have something to clench around as you cum when he swirls his tongue around your clit—who makes you cum so hard it feels like warm syrup is gushing through your limbs over & over until you can’t take it
Levi who pulls away, chin glistening, lips swollen & cherry red, who whispers pussy tastes so good, love when you cum on my fingers sweet girl, you make me feel like a king—as he gets on his knees between your legs—too eager for anymore foreplay, who just wants to get inside you so badly his cock aches
Levi who doesn’t meet any resistance at all when he presses the tip of his cock inside you, you’re so slick that he bottoms out accidentally all at once—making a violent shiver travel down his spine, whose mouth falls open slightly as his eyebrows scrunch from the pleasure—who doesn’t hold back
Levi who doesn’t necessarily talk or make too much noise in bed, but does make your head spin whenever he does speak, who wastes no time gripping your leg and hooking your knee over his shoulder, who leans his weight onto your leg, bending you in half & wraps a hand around your throat as he starts a slow, toe-curling pace—shifting his hips upwards on each thrust to nail your sweet spot
Levi who makes you cum at least three times like that so easily it’s pathetic, who lets out a throaty moans when you squeeze his cock just right, murmuring lowly in your face my cock feels so good doesn’t it princess? It’s all yours, who feels your back arch up into his movements, neck straining pleasantly in his hold—making your head fuzzy with pleasure
Levi who starts to feel desperate, who starts to lose his cool & collected composure, wanting to cum so badly, who flips your over & raises your ass in the air, shoving your face into the sheets & starts to fuck you like he might die if he doesn’t cum right this second, who pushes down on your lower back making you howl because ultimately he’s fucking you like a dog
Levi who doesn’t say he’s gonna cum but you can tell he’s getting close because of the hitches in his breathing, who forces one more orgasm out of you before he cums, making you clench so tight that you start to squirt as he pulls out, who fists his cock and paints your back white while letting out a high pitched, whiny moan as he does so—a noise that is eternally burned into your brain
Levi who makes your limbs feel like jelly, who lets you both return to earth before he forces you up, changing the sheets & guiding you into the shower because there’s no fucking way I’m letting you get the sheets nasty again (he washes your body with the most gentle touch, like the secret giant softie he is)
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theirloveisgross · 2 years
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King on the Barricade, photographed by Charlie Lightening and Joshua Halling on the LTWT.
Santiago, Chile (16.05-17.05) / Asunción, Paraguay (19.05) / Buenos Aires, Argentina (22.05) / São Paulo, Brasil (29.05)
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ddarker-dreams · 5 months
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play wresting — gojo satoru.
(Warning for mild not sfw implications)
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“So this is it, then? I’ve finally… finally been bested.” 
From this vantage point, you tower over a certain melodramatic man, whose long limbs cover the king sized bed at awkward angles. His soft, snowy hair blends in with the stark white comforter. He tries lifting himself up, but his arms buckle from the exertion of such a physically demanding act. The feigned helplessness comes close to breaking your composure. 
“Humor a dying man’s final request,” Gojo rasps. “Did you ever love me? Or were you just after the money and status all along?” 
The term money and status reverberates in your head, taking you back to the rumors whispered behind closed doors by those opposed to your engagement. Gojo, being the person he is, delighted in playing into your supposed alternative motives whenever a ‘well-intentioned’ member of the more conservative factions tried tipping him off. 
“Babe? Did you hear that?” He had called you over once, a hand to his chest, as if he’d learned the most scandalous news. “This man here said you’re only after my assets. Is this true? I thought for sure it was my devastatingly good looks and charm that won you over.” 
(The face of the man in question went beet red over how loud Gojo spoke these words. Unsurprisingly, he slunk off at the earliest opportunity). 
You try assuming your role as the indifferent black widow here, looking down your nose at him. “Nope. I’ve been biding my time all these years.” 
You’re not sure what spurred him on to flex his acting muscles. When you entered the room, you were overcome with the urge to tackle him onto the bed. You’ve both loved roughhousing each other since you were in high school. Given the sheer, unfathomable extent of Gojo’s abilities, he was perfectly capable of dodging you or standing firm against your attempts. Alas, those two options must not have interested him. 
And so he’s writhing in faux agony, putting on a show, as he is wont to do. 
“Do I get any final requests?” 
“Hm,” you hum, fighting how desperately your lips wish to curl into a smile, “That depends. What is it?” 
Whatever he murmurs next is unintelligible. 
Curious, you step forward, urging him to repeat himself. He does. Despite speaking slightly louder, the syllables and consonants blur together, spoken in such rapid succession that your brain can’t piece it together. You draw close enough for your knees to hit the side of the bed. Whatever he’s planning, this must be the grand finale. 
This time, you understand him perfectly fine. You don’t know whether you should laugh or roll your eyes. Perhaps both. 
“Let me hit it, just one more time,” Gojo says these words as if in actual pain, successfully melting your apathetic facade. 
You can feel the satisfaction rolling off him in waves over the fact you broke first. Not willing to accept total defeat, you huff and pivot on your heels. You can feel his eyes boring into your back as you saunter toward the door. You answer the question that’s undoubtedly burning his tongue before he can speak it. 
“Consider your request denied. I need to start searching for my next rich husband — time is of the essence.” 
You gape as the once open door is now shut, faster than you could blink. In front of it is your apparently resuscitated Gojo Satoru, who acts as a human barricade. He extends his long arms out to ensure you’re not going anywhere. His grin is all teeth and his brilliant blue eyes gleam. 
“Sorry babe, this rich husband’s still alive and kicking. Better luck next time.” 
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maggieisalarrie · 11 months
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I Love Barricade Louis
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vodid · 2 years
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family
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bulliestrolls · 4 months
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A Streams Psyche [FLEEK AU]
Introduction to the Fleek AU and what's to come (this was so fun to write hiii)
Honestly, Creek’s never been a huge fan of Branch.
At first, it wasn’t personal at all, or at least he didn’t mean for it to be, he just didn’t like how Branch treated his friends. He was always such a grouch and he was such a downer at every given moment, and it was such a drag to listen to over and over again. If anything, Creek was grateful that Branch typically barricaded himself from everyone else, I mean, if he wasn’t going to be positive, then what was the point of having him around? And yet that never seemed to stop Poppy, her being the future Queen of pop and also his best companion. 
Poppy always seemed adamant on having Branch join their crew and changing his ways. While he never really understood why she wanted to so badly, he couldn’t help but admire her attitude. Something about the peppiness always brought a smile to his face, and he always supported her decisions as a best friend should. Usually though, it never seemed to work in her favor. Branch always blew her off and gave a stink eye to her and everyone else, and quite frankly it got on Creek’s nerves. 
He always did his best to cheer up Poppy whenever it happened, finding it strange how upset she gets over it. Why should she even care if he doesn’t? What was the need to show emotion over someone that didn’t even matter in the long run? Regardless of his thoughts, he succeeded often in bringing back her spirits, the gang usually partying together the remainder of the night as a result. Creek always greatly enjoyed their company, and loved to share his exercises with everyone, his life seemed perfect.
That was until the bergens attack on Pop village. 
Even now, he remembered that day so vividly. Poppy had planned a gigantic celebration for the village to party over them being free from the monsters for so many years. Everyone was so excited to join in on the festivities, everyone except the one who he can’t even think about anymore without clenching his jaw. 
Branch. 
As usual, that damned troll was set on ruining the rest of their fun, claiming how they’re being far too loud and the bergens would get them. Same shit as usual, it was incredible how Creek didn’t gain a headache from the repetitiveness of it. He’s tried before to talk some sense into the troll, but Branch always shoved him away, seemingly as if he were more irate with him than anyone else, which was pretty confusing to Creek. 
Branch, of course, had ended up retreating back to his lonesome bunker, and the rest of the group set up in preparation for the lovely party. And what a party it was, it would’ve been one for the books if the attack hadn’t happened right after. Before much notice, he saw the yellow beady eyes looking down at everyone, and all he can recall is the screams of his friends and the pleas for help which were left unanswered. 
Next thing he had known, he and his buddies were stuffed into a back, shaking with fear and breathing hard, their fate unknown. He remembers not reacting as strongly as his friends had back then. Really, he remembered only thinking of how to relax everyone and for them to have an open and clear mind. How come he hadn’t really processed how awful the situation had been?
Whatever hope he had given his companions started to dwindle the more time went on, especially when everyone had been thrown into a cage, a bergen staring down at them. Even in that situation, Creek had been adamant on everyone remaining calm, and that help would be there soon. He didn’t know if he was even being honest with himself at that moment, he already knew how hopeless the situation had been. And the problem only cemented itself when he was grabbed to be eaten by the Bergens king. 
The moment was instant, he remembered his friends shouting and crying out his name and it all became muffled as the world around him darkened. Originally he had thought he had shut his eyes only to realize he was inside the king's mouth. He was terrified, for the first time in his life, and he could do nothing but accept his fate. Only.. the king’s mouth didn’t do anything. He hadn’t chewed, or swallowed, and it left Creek puzzled.
He still had time! He let out a deep inhale before using all of his core strength to push against the walls of the mouth, letting out a guttural scream until he found himself falling out of it, being met with the two bergens, and the fear kicking back into gear. What was the plan at that point? They were skyscrapers compared to him, running was out of the question. All he could do in that moment was beg for his life, pleading mercy and willing to do anything to be granted such. 
It seemed to have been a running thing through his life, the will to do anything he could in order to get what he wanted. In this case, that was making out of this alive. 
And so, he had made a deal to spare pop village and everyone in exchange to live. He truly wished it didn’t have to be that way, not when he has achieved such a strong bond with the others, but he didn’t have any other choice in the matter, so he reluctantly agreed. The next time he had seen everyone, they were all ecstatic to see that he was still alive, and he couldn’t help but smile despite the circumstances. It was short-lived however, when his eyes traveled to Branch, who seemed shocked and… annoyed that Creek was there. 
Really? Even after everything he was still acting like that? Before he had known it, Branch was exclaiming Creeks’ betrayal, his hair wrapping around Creeks neck harshly, cutting off his circulation to breathe. Relief overflooded him when Poppy had pushed Branch back and tried to talk reason into him. When everyone turned over to him however, he wasn’t quite sure of what to say. 
He… didn’t want to lie so he told them the truth of his betrayal, but it was for good reason. He hadn’t been able to get another word in before Poppy was doing the exact same assault Branch was previously. That was expected from Branch, but from HER? His heart was shattering, wondering where his Poppy had gone. She would never have acted like this towards him before, this must’ve been all his doing. He must’ve been changing her.
Why?
Why was she acting like that towards him? Surely she would’ve understood he didn’t have a choice in the matter, he would die otherwise! He insisted that the other trolls would’ve done what he had to if they were placed in his situation. When Branch had resisted her, Creek’s head felt like it was going to blow when he saw him holding onto Poppy like that. What the hell gives, exactly? It wasn’t like this until only now, and it confused the hell out of him. 
If anything, HE should’ve been the one to be angry in this situation. None of them had done anything to save him from his supposed doom, they all thought he was dead, after all. And, while he may not have enjoyed having to betray pop village, he felt a bit of sadistic glee when it involved Branch being part of the equation, especially now. After all, he made all of his friends hate him, telling them things behind his back. Things that showed Creek was the villain in the scenario, which he couldn’t help feel were ridiculous. SURELY they all would’ve done the same in this scenario, right? Right? Branch would’ve, definitely! He didn’t like ANY of them until only recently, apparently. 
The thought of it all made his head spin, he hated it. He hated him. None of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for that fucker. Creek could’ve calmed his friends down about the betrayal if not for HIS outburst. He wouldn’t have already been rooted against if not for Branch, his friends would’ve believed him, surely. Maybe… maybe this all was for the best! Yeah, yeah that’s it! At least in this way, Creek could properly punish Branch for all he believed was his fault, and maybe, just maybe, he could change Branch to their side once and for all, a feat Poppy wasn’t able to achieve so he would do it for her instead. Then… everything would return to normal. 
He had hoped at least that everything would return to normal.
Creek ended up returning to Pop village and doing what had to be done, which he felt sorrow for, at least that’s what he showed. It wasn’t really known how he was feeling about it all, but he did pity them all for being so weak and powerless in the situation. 
Some time later he finds that plans went south, and he was rolling out of the bergens kingdom with their chef, who was on fire. It was yet another moment of blink fast and you’d miss it. That was also the moment he realized that he didn’t need to betray them at all and everyone was still alive, which gave him momentary happiness, only for it to dwindle at the fact that everyone was leaving him to die. All he could do at that point was to scream along with the other bergen until the fire was put out and she was dead. Except that’s not exactly what happened. For some reason, the fire hadn’t killed her, which was a bit of a shock to him. It might’ve been due to the rough and thick skin of the bergens, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Regardless, since she was out of it from the pain, he thought he could maybe make an escape.
That was until he felt her cold and bony hand grab him, preparing to finish the job and eat him herself. God, he was just going to die no matter what he did, huh? How was any of it fair at all? 
The moment was thankfully short-lived, or at least so he thought, as he felt both of them falling down into a pit. The bergen had died almost instantaneously, sinking down into the stomach acid of the creature that had swallowed them both. He had more time to react than her about it, his small stature having him fall down at a slower pace. With quick thinking he gathered his hair strength to break out, but he still gained acid burns from being in there already. He screamt from the pain but was desperate to get out, to live.
He eventually had made it out of the monster's pit, gasping heavily as he had access to basic air once more, thanking whatever entity above him that was giving him a second chance at life. The troll had focused on tending to his wounds, letting out a hiss of agony at every touch, but it needed to be done. Once he had finally had a chance to think properly once more after his second near-death experience, it washed down on him like a dam. 
None of them cared if he died, hell, it seemed as if nobody even realized he was gone. What could he do from here? He certainly couldn’t have returned to pop village, at least not right now. If they were willing to give him up to a bergen, then they’d likely execute him on the spot for his ‘crimes’. All he could do right now was prepare for his eventual return, knowing that whenever that may have been, there was no going back to the way things used to be. His relationship with them all had been completely severed, and the way he could feel about things felt more warped than ever. 
In the months and the year it took until he returned, he practiced learning basic expressions, reacting to things suddenly and unreasonably to see their effect on others. How to truly react to things became null to him ever since that day, and it was a struggle to come across as normal afterwards. Nevertheless, he persisted, adamant on changing people's minds on him, and getting them to love him once more. 
As expected, his return was at first unwelcomed, him being met with Branch yet again, who was right at Poppy’s side. He couldn’t help but scoff mentally at the fact he was replaced with THIS troll of all things, but he kept his calm and cool stature, claiming guilt and being apologetic to everyone, even though he still didn’t really believe he did anything wrong. It was a stressful situation after all, still, he let them know he was willing to repent for everything and do whatever it takes to gain back everyone’s trust once more. Branch’s face during that moment couldn’t help but creep into Creek’s mind, remembering its vile expression clearly. 
For the most part, everything had been calm. He worked hard and dutifully, really gaining back his place back into the village. It was going according to his plan beside the.. Setbacks. For some reason, anytime he saw Branch, there was the unbridled and raw rage that built inside of him. Sure, he could just stay away from where Branch is, but it’s not that easy unfortunately. Not when he’s constantly walking behind Poppy like a mutt. That is also not to mention Branch had recently reunited with his family members, his brothers. 
Oh great, there’s more of them multiplying. They’re like amoeba. Disgusting, filthy amoeba. 
It seemed that no matter what Creek did, he was always met with Branch’s face in one way or another. Sometimes it got so bad that he lost sleep due to it. He’s also had violent spells on his lonesome just thinking about it all, punching at walls and ripping out his hair just to do something about the thing he had no control of. That was getting pretty old though, and he decided if he couldn’t get away from Branch, he should work on ways of getting rid of him. 
There was one brother that Creek didn’t seem to mind, whose name was Floyd. Floyd was the second youngest brother, according to Branch, and was also quite the apathetic being. Creek never intended getting close or even talking to him, but one thing led to another and it turned out that they could connect pretty well. Floyd would always check up on him, and even started doing yoga, which made Creek overjoyed. Nothing else was expected of their partnership, that is until he had noticed how uncomfortable it had made Branch. Not only that, but Poppy even talked to Branch about how nothing could be done because Creek wasn’t hurting anyone. The comment of her not liking him either stung, but was quickly wiped once he realized what this could mean for him. 
This was it. THIS was how he could fix his issue with Branch, it all made sense! Creek hated seeing Branch happy, and that must be where all of the rage came from! If Branch were in ruins however, then Creek could return back to normal, even feeling a bit of joy from it. His friendship with Floyd was enough to unsettle Branch, so why not take it a step further? He could start flirting with him, taking him out on dates, hell, maybe one day he could even ask for his hand in marriage. Oh, Creek bet that would kill Branch. The thoughts in his head raced with ideas for what he could plan with Floyd, and it made him positively giddy.
If only he had known what this all would’ve done to him, then maybe he would’ve rethought everything.
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ticklytums · 2 months
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A Different Duel
Lucifer and Alastor can turn anything into a competition.
Anything.
(Lucifer and Alastor friendship/radioapple if you squint. Niffty and Alastor father and daughter relationship. This ended up way longer than I meant oops)
The halls were adorned in even more tacky circus decor than before. Frankly, Alastor was surprised there weren’t as many ducks as he feared there’d be. Maybe Charlie had downgraded the King’s obsession to just a few.
He hadn’t really been out to see the new, lavish and fully renovated Hazbin Hotel yet, having just crept out of the depths of his tower after several weeks of healing. He’d made himself scarce and barricaded anyone from entering.
Life had gone on it seemed. It was early morning and most of the hotel were out. Lucifer had commanded a grocery trip to stock the kitchen, and it seemed only he and Niffty were in the lobby. Alastor was quite blindsided to find the tiny maid at eye level as he stood by the railing.
He peered down and his grin stretched into a snarl when he saw Lucifer hoisting her up as he flew with all six wings.
“High enough, Thumbelina?” he asked the little lady, doing a figure eight in the air with her as the little cyclops squealed in delight. Alastor’s claws clenched into the railing.
“Higher, Luci! I want to go higher, I still need to reach the ceiling!” Niffty giggled and feathered the king’s face with her duster, prompting a string of giggling.
“Allow me then, little miss!” Alastor’s voice came out with a bit more of a bite than he intended, as his tendrils were quick to snatch the squealing tick from the angel’s arms. He hoisted Niffty up higher than Lucifer had, and grinned all fangs as the man scowled at him.
“Petty little bitch. You saw that I was holding her up to the chandelier. I was managing it just fine.”
“Ohhh maybe!” Alastor agreed. His tendrils absently rolled along and weaved through the air, bouncing a squeaking and laughing Niffty. “But can your wings do this?”
“No,” Lucifer deadpanned, and he snatched Niffty right back. “I can do this though!” He kept himself airborne with a few wings (although it certainly threw off his weight), and one of his wings fluttered at the girl’s belly.
Furious and jealous static crackled from Alastor at the tick’s laughter, and he yanked the girl right back again. “Oh please! You really wish to get the little doll to laugh?” His tendrils wriggled along her sides and squeezed at her knees. “You’re going for all the wrong spots!”
Tendrils still tickling a laughing Niffty, he swung the girl possessively up onto his shoulder. “I’ll thank you to stay away from the little lady, Your Highness! You already have one of your own.” He started towards the stairs. Stay the fuck away from mine. 
“What’s wrong? Afraid I can make her laugh easier than you can?” Lucifer shot back smugly, only pleased by the enraged static that crackled from the stag.
“Oh please!” Alastor scoffed and his staff reached out to fish the little bug up by her poodle skirt. “It is remarkably easy to make Niffty laugh! I prefer a more difficult game myself. What’s this trivial nonsense matter to you anyway?”
“Oh nothing much. Personally I just want to see how many things I can best you at.” Lucifer disappeared in a flash of gold and was suddenly inches away from Alastor’s face. “Because we certainly know killing angels is one of them!”
Alastor’s snarling grin tightened even more as he tried to pass the King. “I’m not interested in any of your frivolities . Some of us actually have work to do today!”
“Wow, I’m surprised at you, Alfonso. I wouldn’t think you’d be someone to turn down a competition. Scared you’ll lose?”
“In what? A game of tickling Niffty? Niffty is hardly even a challenge to make laugh.”
“Mm yes I see,” the King drawled as he leaned upon the crimson fruit of his own staff. “Who do you propose to be the best test subject then?”
“Well for hypothetical sake, Husker of course!” It was far too delightful of a thought to summon his old friend out from whatever frivolous and likely alcohol fueled fun he was having.
“Husk is with Angel. He’d be pretty mad if you interrupted him.”
Ah, so add fornication as part of the fun then. “All the more reason to summon him here so he can settle this little duel! The look on his face, it would be simply priceless!”
Tickling the feline had always been a fond pastime. The tom cat yowls and cackles were always surprisingly boisterous coming from the old drunk.
“You really need to summon a buffer?” Lucifer drawled, seconds before Alastor’s claws were poised to snap. “What, too scared you yourself would lose?” His snake fanged grin smirked at the deer.
Alastor stepped back and his claws and even antlers curled in displeasure as the King shifted into his serpentine form and had the audacity to curl up his microphone staff. He attempted to shake the microphone, but the bastard was immovable….and Alastor wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.
“Maybe I’m just not partial to these games with you, of all people.” Alastor snipped back. “Niffty is an exception. I hardly want you touching me.”
“Ah, I get it kid.” Lucifer hovered above him now, and his six wings flapped innocently, disarmingly close to the deer. “You know you’d lose to me, and you don’t want that. It’s fine! It’s cool! I respect your stance.”
Niffty could see that Lucifer was playing right into Alastor’s pride, and Alastor was eating it up. His grin was turned up into a sneer. “I didn’t say I was frightened. Perhaps I’m just not ticklish.”
“Yes you are,” Niffty piped up from the mass of tendrils.
“Hush, dearest! So you really want to do this then?” He leaned on his staff, burning inwardly with embarrassment that he’d fallen victim to his vices. “Fine.”
A tickle fight with the devil. There were worst ways to spend a Wednesday morning.  “Alright. What are the ground rules?”
“Magic can be used, but not to hurt each other,” Lucifer informed. “Frankly I have no issues hurting you, but ehhh, doesn't feel like it fits in the spirit of this game. We’re just playing after all!” His angelic wing extended, shy of touching the deer.
Alastor spun his staff for effect. This would be a nice moment of respite, he supposed. A change of pace from the business he needed to attend to later. Really anything he could do to torment the duck obsessed prick was a plus in his book.
“Then….” A distorted cackle echoed through the deer’s infernal speakers, as a mass of tendrils exploded from his back. His filtered voice brimmed with glee. “Let’s play, my friend!”
The tendrils struck forward like an arrow, and almost caught Lucifer’s ankle, but the former angel was quick to spiral out of the way. He dispersed into a cloud of glitter and sparkles, and Alastor swerved just in time to avoid the arms that almost snatched him.
“Oh relying less on your powers, are you?” the deer snipped, as a band of tendrils caught the devil’s wrist. 
“I prefer a more hands on approach!” Lucifer taunted, and his fingers wiggled along the tips of Alastor’s ears before he managed to slam him to the ground. “Using just my magic feels so impersonal!”
“Well good, because I don’t want you touching me!” Alastor growled as his staff knocked Lucifer off balance in the air. “I’d think the devil would be eager to show off. You certainly were in that sad little magic show the day you cursed our doorstep with your presence!”
Lucifer’s canary yellow eyes sharpened as he smirked viciously. “Oh believe me, kid! I can show you what the devil can do!” His eyes flared crimson and fire leaped from his lips.
Alastor wasn’t sure what he was preparing for, but it certainly wasn’t for the black branches that shot out of the floorboards and tried to wind across his limbs. They were twisted and carried the faint scent of apples. 
He found himself entrapped, but before Lucifer could strike him down, he sent a cascade of green to incinerate the branches. “A cute little trick, but that’s merely all it is.”
He was far more bark than bite today. The bastard had chosen the worst possible moment for this juvenile battle. He was still healing from his injury. His wound had almost recovered, but he…hadn’t exerted such a level of power since his fight with Adam. Lucifer had him woefully overpowered and Alastor was fully aware of it. Fuck.
If he could count on the archangel to be far more ticklish than he was powerful, just maybe he’d have a shot. “You weren’t watching your back though!”
A portal had opened up by the devil, and he didn’t turn around in time to avoid the black tendril that finally succeeded in snatching his wing. “Ah! Ack! Oh nice try, Bambi! Maybe you aren’t so hopeless after all.”
“How original,” Alastor drawled as a few more tendrils snaked towards the little canary flapping in his trap. “I’ve been called every iteration of a deer ever created, my good man! You’re going to have to try to be more creative.”
Lucifer squealed as several tendrils weaved into the air, dangerously close to him. He kicked his feet and flapped his arms, as if to deter them. It only seemed to invite his doom however, and the devil squealed as he felt the  tendrils slither across his belly.
“Wahahait, that’s nahahat fahahair!” Lucifer, the ‘self proclaimed’ Dad of the hotel was deathly ticklish, and it was a weakness both his family, old and new, exploited to its fullest.
“Oh I see, because you’re losing it isn’t fair? I’ve followed all the rules!” He wiggled his fingers in the air, and the tendrils responded in kind, wriggling up under the devil’s arms. The boyish goofy laughter was instant.
“AHAHALASTOR!” Lucifer squealed as he tried to shove his arms down, but it only served to trap the wiggling appendages, as the smirking deer found a rhythm that drove the king up the wall. 
Oh how he couldn’t wait to put a more desperate smile on that pompous little fawn’s face!
“You know, I have a hypothesis that I was wondering if you’d be interested in helping me test!” Alastor gave a predatory smirk and loomed closer to the cackling devil, propelled upwards by his tendrils. “Wings seem to be quite the terrible spot on Husker. I’m wondering if that’s possibly universal?”
He grinned at the terror in the pocket sized king’s expression, a dark chuckle leaving as Lucifer struggled to snap his wings against him.
“DOHOHON’T EVEN THIHIHINK IT!”
Too late. Those thoughts had processed. Six tendrils suddenly dove forward into the pit of each wing, and Alastor could barely believe the explosive reaction it garnered. 
Lucifer screamed with laughter, falling into a fit of babbling pleas and snorts as his feet peddled at the air uselessly. He kicked and he squirmed but Alastor was ruthless in his attack.
“Bingo,” the deer smirked viciously. A taunting laugh track echoed from his infernal speakers, and the mocking just put the poor King further into hysterics. “I think I’ve won this little game, wouldn’t you say so? Your Highness? Oh sorry, can you say so? Can you even HEAR ME?” he called over the screams.
“I don’t think I feel quite ready to let my catch go yet. There’s still many spots left to try out! Ah, wouldn't you say so Niffty?”
Suddenly Alastor was aware of the fact that the spot his quasi adopted daughter had been sitting in, was…empty. Peculiar. Had she really grown so bored already? 
If he was a bit more on his game, maybe he would have sensed the girl before he felt her devious little body scale up the back of him. 
“I say I want to try this spot!” Her tiny claws latched to his belly, and the little maid sealed his fate. Feedback screeched from the deer’s microphone as laughter nearly burst out. While he saved face, he didn’t save his concentration.
His head jerked up long enough to see the dispersing, golden glitter in the wiggling tendrils. Alastor’s eyes widened as he whirled around—just in time for that glitter to appear inches away from him, Lucifer now in the form of a beautiful white sparrow.
“Ohhhh, betrayed by your own ‘little lady’, damn that’s gotta suck for you!” the bird tweeted, and situated himself in Alastor’s hair to peck at his ears. A yelp tore from Alastor’s throat but his claws reached out to snatch the sparrow.
“I’m rescinding the cafe trip she and I were going to spend together as punishment!” Alastor growled, narrowing his eyes at her. He didn’t have too long to mull on her betrayal however, finding himself too busy trying to get a Lucifer shaped snake off of his neck!
“Gotta say buddy, ever since meeting you I’ve been reveling in the idea of wiping that shit eating grin off your face!” Lucifer danced out of Alastor’s claws once more, and merrily scampered over his side as a tiny gerbil.
Alastor snarled and he tried to hone in on where the devil might phase to next, but every attempt of snatching the asshole only ended in him getting a handful of glitter. It was getting disorienting trying to keep up with his teleporting, and his tendrils kept on snatching at the empty air.
“Hold—still!”
“Buuut if I can’t wipe the grin off your face, then I’ll settle for making it as desperately wide as possible!” Lucifer, now a small cricket hopping in and out of his pockets, suddenly reverted to his angelic form.
All six wings of angelic form, and tackled Alastor to the couch. Before the deer could snarl anything, Lucifer shoved his claws under Alastor’s arms. “See how you like it, douchebag.”
Between the feathery wings holding him in an embrace that tickled on its own, and the attack to one of his weak spots, Alastor didn’t stand a chance. 
Microphone feedback screeched between a pop of static, and finally loud laughter. “GEHEHET OHOHOHOFF ME YOU MISEHEHEREABLE LIHITTLE-“
“Ouuuu better be nice to the guy who decides how long he’s going to keep you like this!” Lucifer laughed, just enjoying the banter. It was so fucking satisfying knocking this prick down a peg or two! “Gotta say, that microphone thing is cute! That part of the whole radio demon thing?”
Alastor cursed through crackling static as he wrestled with Lucifer’s hands, unable to keep the squeal from emitting when the devil got his belly. He tried to shove his face to the side, so at least he didn’t need to see his tormentor’s face, but that just pushed his face further into the wings!
“The hands on approach is just so much more rewarding than only using my magic,” Lucifer drawled, smirking as every wiggle of his fingers pulled more feedback through the cackling. “Hands off is just so impersonal, you know?”
“I’m about to BITE your hands off!” Alastor snarled, before he was sent back into bright laughter as Lucifer dug punishingly under his arms, getting into his trench coat and minimizing his protection.
“Ah ah, you cryptid little reindeer, that’s just breaking our rules we set!” Lucifer gasped dramatically, tasering his fingers into the deer’s bony ribs. 
His colossal sized wings folded over the deer, and the effect was overwhelming on its own. Alastor sucked in a breath as the slightest movement made the feathers twitch, but staying still wasn’t possible. 
“Isn’t this fun? I do this with Charlie all the time!” By the looks of it, it was having the same desired effect. The radio demon was a mess of giggles entangled in a bed of feathers. “Just enjoy the relaxation!”
Alastor wasn’t sure what was worse, the feathers that had reduced him to popping static and wiggling, or the fact that the wings were hugging him. He tried to summon his tendrils, but he couldn’t conjure even an inkling of focus…and his magic was exhausted. He was utterly helpless to suffer this humiliating, feathery defeat!
“Do you give up yet?” the devil had the gall to taunt. “Because I could stay like this aaalll day! Gotta say, you’re not so bad when you’re squealing like a little fawn! Just give it up, kid! You know you can’t beat me and it’ll only get worse from here…”
“You’re hugging me, h-how can it get…much worse?”
“Ou, something like this!” the King grinned. Those devious six wings suddenly flapped, brushing over his midsection like a curtain. Feathers poked in through the buttons of his shirt and Alastor just about bent into the king.
“GEHEHEHET OHOHOFF!” 
“What’s the matter? I’d think I could expect a much bigger fight from someone like you!” Lucifer appeared as a snake, woven around one of his antlers. His snake tongue hissed as it poked at the deer’s ears, bringing another bright snort. 
At least able to push himself up from the couch’s arm, Alastor made another grab for the King, but he just reappeared on his belly as a duckling, nuzzling it. The deer nearly doubled over. “STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIT!” 
“Why kid? Do you yield?” Lucifer taunted, his sharp toothed grin widening playfully. It was a disconcerting sight to see from a little duckling. He reverted to his normal form. “You don’t seem to be putting up much of a f-“
That’s when Alastor finally reared up and captured the king’s wrists in his grip. With a sharp jerk, he’d sent them both tumbling off the couch. “Perhaps I will utilize the hands on approach! Anything to take you down!”
His claws dove to Lucifer’s belly, and he was delighted by the squealing results. Lucifer’s wings flapped out in instinct, but Alastor avoided their snatching attempts. He changed the target area to his sides, and back up under his arms, skittering from one spot to the next and quickly alternating. He was simply merciless in his pursuit, because he would win this war.
Lucifer screeched to the high heavens, before he began cackling uncontrollably and beating his feet against the couch cushions. “AHAHAHAHA SHIHIHIT!” He wrestled with the deer’s grappling hands as both suddenly found themselves locked in some sort of power play.
“My my your highness, so sensitive, aren’t we?” Alastor teased as his claws dug into any inch of skin he could manage to find. Ribs, under his arms, and in the pits of his wings. He never deliberated on one area for too long, refusing to give the King a chance to get used to one sensation before another began.
“SHUHUHUT UP, YOU PRIHIHIHICK!”
This was…fun! He despised the very fact that anything to do with the apple pisslord was fun, but he couldn’t deny how intoxicating it was to have the devil at his mercy, even in such a childish game. Such a personal attack with his claws felt strange, he barely ever used anything but his tendrils. Oh, but it did make the King’s defeat so much more satisfying…
“Ugh!” A sudden spasm of agony rocketed across his ribcage, and briefly blinded the King from his vision. He saw just enough to catch the loathsome concern in Lucifer’s eyes as he toppled off the cushions.
“Alastor!” His own speed at which he was at the deer’s side surprised even himself. Lucifer crouched beside the panting creature and he extended a reluctant hand. 
Alastor remained in his near fetal position as he tried to gather his bearings. He was suddenly aware of the eyes on him. Lucifer. Niffty. Both gazed at him with concern and pity, as if he was someone that was weak. He abhorred the hand that Lucifer was extending to him, and he emitted a low warning growl.
Lucifer’s hand slowly withdrew, and his shoulders slackened as he saw the few minutes of progress they’d made completely unravel. Alastor was retreating back into his shell.
The deer staggered to his feet and his radio filter and cheshire grin once more disguised everything Lucifer saw under the surface. “Well that was a fun little game! Shall we call it a draw this time, your highness? It seems like we both evenly matched each other’s hysterics!”
“Tch, yeah. We’ll have to have a rematch!” He watched Alaator’s ears twitch forward, unsure if that was a good sign or not. “You…okay? You need me to take a look at ya?”
“I’m fine!” Static grated the air, cutting off the King’s concerned inquiry. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Wait!”
Lucifer appeared before him in a glittery burst and Alastor’s teeth bared in impatience. Still, the King was undeterred. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to let the minimal progress they’d made…fall apart. “Hey, have you eaten yet? We were going to make pancakes, little Thumbelina and I.”
Begrudgingly he had to admit he was hungry. A rumbling in his stomach betrayed his denial. He glared at the King, but it was the smiling cyclops at Lucifer’s side that as always…melted his reserve.
“…Oh fine!” His elbow dug mockingly into the King’s top hat like an armrest. “I suppose I am feeling quite peckish! I must admit that I am more partial to crepes. They’re far superior.”
Lucifer rolled his eyes and shoved a finger up under the deer’s arm, delighting in the squeaking snort as he shoved him away. “Hells bells, do you really have to make everything into some competition? Ya dick.”
“I don’t have to but it’s undeniably satisfying…” He ducked a surprisingly more playful and merry cane swing from the devil, dancing from his grip. “I must admit, that battle was a bit riveting. I suppose they don’t all have to end in bloodshed.”
“Yeah it was fun, but if you ever wanna pull something like that on Charlie, you need some tips.”
“Charlie?” Alastor’s grin nearly split his lips. “Tell me more…”
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shadowtriovibes · 8 months
Text
the train ain't even left the station
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Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC
Rating: G
Word Count: 2K
Summary: request: "If you're up for it I'd love to see a small lil fic of Sebastian sending his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time! Like maybe Sebastian is telling them about his adventures with Ominis and MC to make the child less nervous or just letting them know how exciting things will be for them :)"
in the same 'verse as "it's a sign of the times" [AO3]
Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.” “Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly. A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’” “No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.
September 1, 1910
Suspended overhead in the bustling terminal of King’s Cross Station is a massive clock. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of Londoners – both Muggles and wizards alike, though more often the former – pass underneath the clock as they hurry to catch their trains. Many will casually glance up to ensure they’re still on time as they make their way to work, school, or even the lucky few off on holiday.
As it happens, the first day of September brings countless students to the station on their way to boarding schools all over the U.K., meaning the station stays especially crowded well into the late morning. Worried mums and impatient dads all turn their eyes toward that clock, hoping their sprogs won’t be left on the platform on their very first day of school.
Just as the minute hand slides into place at the very bottom of the clock, a handsome young family emerges from a tiny waiting room positioned at the far end of the terminal.
Hundreds of Muggle men in their funny, black suits and odd little bowler hats have already walked right past the waiting room without sparing it a second glance. In fact, had any of them paused to do so, they would have read a small sign affixed to the door that simply read, “Out of Order.”
But inside that waiting room is a grand fireplace. Not just any fireplace, mind you – one that roared brilliantly twenty-four hours a day, never needs stoking, and, perhaps most importantly, spews out bright green flames.
Sebastian Sallow first exits the waiting room with a precarious cart loaded up with trunks, birdcages, and even some broomsticks of all things. If the Muggles passing by thought anything of the man’s rather odd collection of travel items, no one said a word.
He glances up at the clock and grins.
“Ten thirty,” he says confidently over his shoulder. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be late.”
Beside him is his young wife. Their smallest child, a boy just a few months shy of his fifth birthday, is dozing in her arms. Behind them are their oldest children, a pair of twins, chatting excitedly as they follow their parents toward the barricade between platforms nine and ten.
“Doesn’t it seem a bit redundant to Floo all the way down to London just to put the children on a train back to Scotland?” Sebastian mumbles as your family weaves its way through the flowing crowds.
“Perhaps, but all the children love riding the train,” you remind him fondly. “It’s a Hogwarts tradition, especially for the little ones.”
Having never had the chance to take the Hogwarts Express yourself, you find yourself mildly envious of your eldest children, both of whom will soon be taking their very first journey on the school’s scarlet red steamer train.
“Besides,” you add teasingly. “If I recall, you and Anne met Ominis on your first train ride to Hogwarts, correct?”
“Fine, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Sebastian relents with a soft smile. “I rather think this whole journey will have been worth it if the twins happen to make lifelong friends who save their lives several times over.”
“Do we have to?” your son Simon pipes up, sounding wary. “Because I packed a book I wanted to read.”
Sebastian raises an eyebrow at you and gives you a look that reads, He is your son through and through.
“Trying to prove you’re a Ravenclaw already, are you?” Sebastian teases him. “Just like your mum, you are.”
“I’m going to be a Slytherin like you, Daddy!” your daughter Anne-Marie chimes in proudly. “Even Auntie Anne said so!”
You and Sebastian exchange a fond, albeit exasperated look. Ever since Anne (and eventually Sebastian) had accepted the life-limiting curse placed upon her by Rookwood, she’d instead focused on honing types of magic that don’t drain her of her energy or cause her any more pain. She’d found comfort in Divination and has grown into a very powerful Seer, though she often uses her gift to rile up your children with premonitions of being spoiled rotten on their birthday or soundly beating the other village children in their broomstick races.
However, predicting that your mischievous little girl will end up in Slytherin is a fairly safe bet, you imagine.
“I won’t be the least bit surprised if that’s true,” Sebastian says warmly. “But just know your mother and I will love you all the same no matter which house you end up in.”
“Even Hufflepuff?” Simon asks nervously. “Ernest from the village says Hufflepuffs are boring.”
“Don’t forget your Auntie Poppy is a Hufflepuff,” you tease him. “She’s anything but boring!”
That seems to cheer Simon up a bit, but your sweet, slightly shy boy falls back beside you as you get closer to the platform barricade.
“Alright, my love?” you ask him softly.
He reaches for your free hand and squirms up tightly against your side. “It’s really big…”
You size up the high brick archway before you. To the naked eye, it appears as solid as rock, and despite Sebastian’s reassurances that it’s perfectly safe to run straight at it, you imagine you’d be intimidated as well if you were only eleven years old.
“Don’t worry, darling,” you reassure him. “Your father and I will come with you to the platform, you won’t have to go through alone.”
He nods wordlessly and you squeeze his hand. Ever her father’s girl, Anne-Marie takes Sebastian’s arm and the two of them push the wobbly luggage cart straight at the archway, and in the blink of an eye, they’ve vanished.
“See?” you murmur to Simon. “Not so scary, is it?”
With your youngest still propped against your hip, you and Simon walk toward the barricade at a slower pace. You glance around to make sure no Muggles are watching as you slip through the magical brick facade, and then in the blink of an eye you’re on a pack platform surrounded by wizarding families and children in bright, colorful robes.
“Over here!” Sebastian calls out, and you see that he’s pulled the cart right up to the train.
“Help each other with your trunks, just like that,” Sebastian says as Simon and Anne-Marie first carry the trunk marked with an “S.S.” aboard the carriage and then return for the other marked with an “A.M.S.”
Then they carry in their owls – both young tawny birds raised from hatchlings, a gift from their Aunt Poppy. Finally, they return for their brooms, which Sebastian knows for a fact they ought not to have as first years, but he hopes he can talk Headmaster Weasley into looking the other way once they arrive with the intent of trying out for their house Quidditch teams.
(Raising your children in a wizarding village had been quite an eye-opening experience for you. Your twins have been on broomsticks since they could walk, and over the years their godfather Ominis has insisted on making sure they always have the latest model – one for each, so they won’t squabble over sharing.)
You pull Anne-Marie in for a tight hug once the children finish unloading their cart.
“You’ve got everything you need?” you ask her, pretending your voice hasn’t gone thick with tears. “I’ve packed you both some sweets for the ride, remember to share with your new friends, and write to us as soon as you get back to your dormitories please–”
“Yes, Mum,” she says, somewhat impatiently. “We promise we will.”
Anne-Marie kisses her littlest brother goodbye on his chubby cheek, fondly brushing back some of those messy brown curls your husband had given him.
“Why don’t you let your father give you a hug goodbye, sweetheart?” you gently prompt her.
You expect you’re the only one who’s noticed that Sebastian’s eyes have gotten a bit wet as he’d watched his children load up their belongings on the train. Even though he’d likely try to deny it if you prodded him, he sincerely looks like he could use a hug.
As soon as Anne-Marie approaches him with her arms out, Sebastian scoops her up against his chest like he’d often done when she was much smaller – only now her legs nearly touch the floor, and soon he’ll only be able to sway her like this with her feet firmly planted on the ground.
“Have a great term, sweetheart,” he tells her softly. “I can’t wait to hear all about it – even the parts that’ll exasperate your mother.”
“I promise I’ll be good,” she says ruefully.
Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.”
“Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly.
A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’”
“No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.
You narrow your eyes suspiciously and decide to leave it be for now, but as soon as you turn away, Sebastian leans down and whispers, “Write to Uncle Ominis and ask him where to find it. It’s a Sallow’s rite of passage.”
“I will,” she says excitedly. “And I’ll bring Simon.”
“Good girl,” he says proudly.
Anne-Marie manages to free Simon from your weepy grasp so that Sebastian can also pull him in for one last hug, reassuring his son he’ll be proud of him no matter which house he eventually calls home. Then the two link arms as they make their way toward the train, climbing up the stairs behind a gaggle of redheaded children (whose surname you could likely guess on the first try).
They settle into a compartment halfway down the carriage. Anne-Marie eagerly presses her face against the glass and makes a silly face at Sebastian, which he delightedly returns. Simon waves goodbye as well and holds up the book he’d packed, showing it off as if to say, “See Mum? We’ll be just fine.”
With your groggy son in your arms and Sebastian’s arm around your shoulders, you watch as the train slowly starts to rumble down the tracks and into the brilliant September sunshine. It’s carrying your children ever closer to your home, and yet further away from you than they’ve ever been.
You hide a few tears against the lapel of Sebastian’s robes; he kindly wipes away the rest with a handkerchief and kisses the redness on your cheeks and nose until you’re smiling once more.
“They’re going to have an incredible year,” he whispers to you. “It’s Hogwarts.”
You simply nod, not trusting yourself to answer without a stray sob slipping out.
Dozens of parents begin to Apparate away from the tracks as soon as the train rounds the corner, but with your youngest, you’ll need to make your way back to the station’s Floo flames to get home safely. This time pushing an empty cart, the three of you slip back through the brick barricade.
“It sure will feel quiet when we get home,” Sebastian says a little sadly.
“We’ve still got the littlest one,” you say softly, cradling your sleeping boy’s cheek as he clings to you through his nap. “He’ll keep us on our toes enough as he gets older.”
“I suppose,” Sebastian sighs, still sounding morose even as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of his fingers down your singleton’s back.
Then he perks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps we could try for a fourth?”
You shoot him a withering glare. “Not on your life, Sebastian Sallow. We’ve just sent the twins off to school, I think that means we should actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.”
(Though when your twins come home for the winter holidays with countless tales of their adventures with new friends and their pockets stuffed full of Zonko’s products, Sebastian gets to be the one to tell them they’ll have a new baby sister the following summer.)
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