Can’t stop thinking about Chetney’s gift to Orym. Three moons. His quiet, “Big moon… little moon… and whatever comes next.”
Permission. We don’t know if Orym has granted it to himself yet. Permission to move on from grief, permission to love again. But there it was, said out loud for maybe the first time.
Chetney’s quiet gift telling Orym that he deserves it, when he’s ready. That there is life and love after death. And it doesn’t mean the ones we loved are forgotten or dwindle in importance. The mark they carve is right there with us forever, carried into the next chapter. And that’s perfectly okay.
heyo, friends. breaking my accidental hiatus to actually participate in @stonegrotweek for once!
for the record, this is set in my strange trails “good timeline” sequel? you might be missing some context if you haven’t read the behemoth that is strange trails. you might be missing some context even if you have read it. that’s fine.
I wrote most of this earlier this summer, but spent some time editing & tweaking this weekend. please note: it is still very much a rough draft, but I have miles to go before I can actually post any sequel stuff on ao3 so that’s okay. I just wanted to share something for the event.
WARNINGS: some light sexytimes (there is actually a steamier version that will live in my google docs forever). also, mentions of childbirth (not at all graphic).
anyway, on that note, here you go. a little glimpse into a stonegrot future, in approximately 1500 words.
“My dad’s here, I gotta go!” Christopher called out, and rather loudly at that, causing Buck to look over with amusement. The freshly-turned middle schooler was on his way to the car, that Buck now exited, ready to correct Chris. He didn’t mind though, not with the excitement that the boy showed whenever Buck was the own to come get it. (They probably had the quick ice cream stops to thank forg that but Buck knew that Chris loved him for him, too.)
“Hey, buddie,” Buck greeted, taking the bag from Chris. “Sorry to disappoint but it’s only me today.”
“Hey, Buck!” Christopher grinned. “I knew it was you.”
Without further clarification, the boy turned to wave at what Buck assumed were his new friends - what was it… Amy, Jaime, Ben and Stacey?
“See, this is Buck!” Chris yelled to them. “My other dad!”
Buck blinked down at the little guy. Little? Who was he kidding. Chris had grown so much already since Buck had first met him.
Chris nudged Buck in the side. “Say hi,” he pressed out between his teeth, and Buck jerked up to throw a wave over to the other kids.
Christopher beamed, and left Buck standing frozen at the side of the car, while he clambered in. Buck wheezed, trying to hold himself together from the melting heat within his chest
———-
He’d been sniffling the whole way over, but as they parked in the Diaz’ driveway, Buck’s vision was blurred beyond recognition. The tears were now just streaming down his face. He was clutching at the steering wheel like a lifeline, engine still idling beneath him.
Christopher would be worried if he didn’t know how Buck handled emotions sometimes - wholeheartedly and unashamed. He had asked, midway, if it was okay that he’d introduced Buck as his dad, to which the blonde could only stutter out a ‘yes, of course’ before telling him 'you know I love you like my own son… if I had one. Probably more!’ and that had been that.
Now, they were here.
“Dad! Dad, come quick! I think I finally broke Buck,” Chris yelled, after throwing open the car door.
Eddie came hurtling out of the house not 5 seconds later and hurried over. He could hear Christopher’s relaxed tone, so he wasn’t extremely worried but to say his heart didn’t ache at all when he saw his boyfriend crying, would be an outright lie.
It had taken them a while to get their shit together, but the shift from best friends to boyfriends had been smoother than Eddie had ever expected, even with his inexperience with anything in the realm of dating guys. Turned out, they’d already been a family and that was the most important part.
“Hey, babe. What did the little devil do now,” Eddie asked softly, shooting a playfully stern look at Christopher, who shrugged innocently. Eddie placed one hand on Buck’s knee, thumb brushing over the denim in a soothing matter. Easing him back and leaning over, he shut off the engine and pulled the key out, before turning to Buck once more.
He reached up to brush one of Buck’s cheeks free of tears, even though another tear quickly followed. Instead, he gripped Buck’s neck, making him look him in the eyes.
“Hey,” Eddie repeated softly.
Buck gazed back at him in such awe and wonder that Eddie’s own chest gree three-fold, a small smile already tugging at his lips.
“I’m dad,” Buck croaked brokenly, his whole soul open for the taking, and it was all Eddie could do to not start laughing (and crying along with him). He couldn’t stop the smile, his love for his two boys overtaking his face before he could help it. Glancing over at Chris had the boy shrugging innocently with his own smile and Eddie nodded, blinking the mistiness from his gaze.
“At school they didn’t believe that I had two dads, so I had to prove it to them,” Christopher offered as some sort of explanation, having made it to his feet in the mean time.
Eddie pressed a kiss to Buck’s temple. “I think you were dad since the moment I told you about him,” he murmured into his hair, always a little afraid of this kind of vulnerability that Buck showed without second thought - heart rabbiting, shoulders tensing. But Buck made it worth it.
“C'mon, dad,” Eddie said as he pulled back, wraping an arm around his shoulders to tug him along with him. “Let’s get you inside.”
Buck followed easily, surrendering to Eddie’s lead.
warning: dance au!, aged up characters (midoriya is in his 20’s), depictions of anxiety, slight angst, reader auditioned for a female role but no pronouns are given to them.
w/c:3.5k
synopsis: You and Midoriya are competing against one another to get a lead role with one of the legendary dancers, Shouto Todoroki. To get some more practice, the two of you head to the studio only to find the passion both of you were missing were in front of you all this time
a/n: as someone who used to do dance and loves midoriya, this was an absolute treat to write.
A room of creativity, of passion, of poise, and with heart—the words your instructor told you the first time you were admitted to this dance company. Known for their prestige globally, Yuuei Dance Company was esteemed and known to educate the next generations of performers and entertainers in dance. At one point you would have considered yourself a part of the best, one of the many jewels that could go wherever and be successful dancing under the light of the stage.
It’s too bad you felt you’ve lost your luster.
The room was large, the hefty windows displayed the active streets of Tokyo. As the sun beamed in, some onlookers observed the various dancers inside. Small groups of them were stretching, letting their bodies contour as if they were beautiful masterpieces in a museum. Smiles and small chatter filled the room, hoping a good day of practice would come.
Some were to the side, holding onto the wooden barre, lifting their legs up high towards the ceiling—toes always pointed up. Others hug the wall, letting their lower limbs stretch outwards to complete a perfect slip. Others were tying their shoes, clearly beat up for days of practice and use, soft orchestral music playing through the speakers.
Everyone seemed to be ready to show off their best today as the upcoming play was coming up soon. The auditions will be conducted tomorrow, leaving a fierce competition with you and your peers to get the best roles. As this was an original production, no one truly knew what to expect—leaving today as one of the last days to get any proper practice before then.
As you stood overarching your back to do a simple pirouette, the door opened up revealing the instructor, a bitter expression on his face. His dark eyes loomed over the room, the once positive energy dissipating at once.
“There once lived a man in the house by the river.”
Isn’t that how good stories start?
But this man is no good. He is no hero. Or even a kind man. He is vicious, petty, and broken.
As ugly on the outside as he is on the inside. Many, far more worthy than him, should have survived the war. Or walked away free to live out their days in relative peace.
But life is rarely fair, isn’t it?
And so, in spite of many who wish he was dead, Severus Snape wakes, sneers into his morning cuppa, does his shopping at Tesco on a Friday night, brushes the chimney soot off his shirtsleeves, and hides old scars.
After all, life carries on, even when you least expect it.
Some nights it seems that, after nearly five decades of surviving, he’s still learning how to live it in peace. Free at last.
It doesn’t come easy.
Still, he makes it work. He raises his collar high over the scar on his neck, even in summer, pulls his sleeves down over his wrists, and never, ever greets the neighbours.
When the post arrives, he Incendios every Howler, a routine since the end of the war.
[The Potter Scandal! Will Ginevra change her surname? How will the children cope. More on page 3]
He still reads the Prophet. The ghastly rag.
He makes porridge or eggs, or sometimes empties a tin of beans on toast. Every week, he brews another dose of Dreamless Sleep in the cellar. Every evening he sweeps the coal dust with his mother’s favourite broom. The unridden, Muggle kind.
The flames in the fireplace have never glowed green. There is no floo powder on the mantle.
He keeps a journal, but never writes about the past. He tries not to dream of it. Even though his Secret is Kept well enough, he meticulously checks the iron locks every night and renews his security spells every other Tuesday.
Until, one day. Everything changes.
The ghost of a stag prances right through his carefully honed defenses into the seclusion of his living room and says in Harry-Bloody-Potter’s voice.
