#An Immortal Laid to Rest

[thomasce]

A gift for @jasperygrace ! Happy Birthday its a boy (it is not ur birthday)

[lehana37]

Okay okay I love this and let me add onto the supervillain theories with an absolutely worried Barry Allen in street clothes sitting in a nearby booth in a coffee shop.

He’s been tailing this teen for two(ish) days now and so far he’s seemed mostly benign, just doing tourist shit. But today he’s met up with some apparent friends and that’s when things have taken a turn for the worst.

He only tuned out for a minute he promised! It’s just, they’re so utterly normal. Adolescent. Their conversation is about summer homework and how tired they are and how has Danny been enjoying his vacation so far and honestly? Barry felt weird. Maybe it wasn’t really this kids journal, sure the kid felt… off. Weird. But listening in on a trio of teens just shooting the shit after following one of them for over a day feels like stalking. A child. Morally? Feels gross to him, but he promised Bats he would keep an eye on him after bringing the book to the league and he’ll be damned if he’s defeated by a little social awkwardness but apparently he has been. He’s clearly missed a vital part of the conversation while contemplating his feelings because he only checked back in when he overheard (Tuck? That’s the kids name right? Probably a nickname but until he gets the chance to run facial recognition from the nearby security cameras Tuck it’ll have to be) anyways, he heard Tuck(?) say “at least you have superpowers!” Before being violently elbowed by the honestly impressively goth girl. (Sam? That sounds right)

And, well. What? Superpowers? Oh dear lord does the kid who has horrifyingly detailed notes on them (labeled volume 4) have superpowers? That’s concerning. Maybe not all is lost? He could be an aspiring vigilante? Of course they’ll have to talk him out of it or scoop him up and train him but that’s still a highly preferred option to this kid becoming one of his rogues, he doesn’t look a day over 15 (even if he friends appear a few years older) and frankly he doesn’t know the kids powerset but it’s probably something to be worried about if he’s a villain trying to set up shop in a well known hero’s city with multiple flashes all running about and other rouges to compete with. So! Baby vigilante! That would really be the best solution for everyone he just prays to god it’s accurate. Thank god he could (mostly) convince himself of that in the beats between seconds because it would’ve been incredibly embarrassing to miss any more of the conversation after such an important information drop. Not to mention Batman’s reaction. Lectures for sure. Probably monitor duty, but on the watchtower and not of the kids which would be deeply frustrating seeing as they’re in his city.

The Goth- Sam hardly misses a beat before “Everything has it’s price.” Barry finds himself slightly startled at the wisdom in it knowing better than most what the price of superpowers can be, both receiving and then deciding what to do with them.

“The Price was paid.” Tuck doesn’t miss a beat which tracks for what he’s seen of them, they’ve been very quippy all day.

“No it wasn’t, it’s the gift that keeps on fucking taking,” glad to hear that the kid is weighing on his own apparent superpowers (!!!) even if it’s a deeply concerning addition.

“Hey Danny,” Sam starts, “it’s okay it’s-“

“No it’s not. It’s not okay Sam because,” Wow, Barry can’t help but think to himself, a little breathless at the goldmine he’s probably just stumbled over, that’s a lot of emotion to be showing publicly in a random coffee shop at three in the afternoon but hey good for him. “This price- I know you don’t want to think about it but this is a price I’ll always pay.” Danny reaches out, he was sitting across the booth from his friends, and cups their faces but his hands- hold up. His hands look a little more like- like claws. What the fuck? Barry guesses his power is some sort of transformation then but it’s kind of extremely terrifying to see claws on still normal human flesh hands, the hands themselves have changed not just the nails. It’s upsetting to witness in an Otherwise Ordinary coffee shop. Not quite uncanny valley, that’s not the right word but also- also not not uncanny valley. He’s not sure he would’ve noticed if hadn’t already been paying Very Close Attention because no one else is reacting and that’s frankly the worst part.

The claws have started pricking the two’s faces, not quite drawing blood but if they moved at all they probably would, Barry would’ve stood up if he could but he felt transfixed, this conversation felt so weighted for all that it’s been naught a few sentences yet. Minutes? Hours? He’s been sliding in and out so much he for sure couldn’t tell you but either way he didn’t rush up and Barry is glad for it a second later when all the kids do is tilt their heads slightly, leaning more into his palms slightly in such a collected move it can be nothing but practiced. A comfort. Danny starts speaking again, or maybe he never stopped and Barry jolts, “I’m going to outlive you both, and one day I’ll have to be the one to put you in the ground.”

Well. Damn. There go his hopes of this kid not being a villain because there’s no way that isn’t a threat. Their body language is still comfortable but there’s no telling if that’s actually the kids power. Contact enforced? Maybe the claws are a side effect of exerting his will? No telling.

“You’ll make sure our graves are neighbors won’t you? Bury our bodies out in the woods? Our favorite spot?” Sam hardly hesitated at the mood change before shooting this back so clearly they aren’t dosed into compliance but- but what? That’s such- he doesn’t want to say unhinged but definitely a morbid thing to say. Codependent too if there’s any truth to it but it’s probably just teen humor in action. He hopes. It’s goth either way so he can understand why she’d be the one to say it.

Tuck quips back immediately, “I think I’d like a shared grave even if you have to dig one of us up to put us together again.” Okay! Okay. So either the humor is catching or they’re together?

“You think you won’t die together?” There’s humor in Danny’s tone as he (finally) drops his cla- hands? They’re hands again. Well either way they’re wrapped around his mug again and not on his friends faces so Barry will count it as a win. He studies the threat’s child’s face again and he looks faux scandalized. Well, that at least probably means the other two are a couple even if it definitely means this child is a budding supervillain because that at least HAS to be a threat, no way. Maybe some kind of- of social Stockholm? They’re clearly not being held captive but they seem to like him well enough even if he’s being absolutely awful. Danny flashes them a grin and it’s a quicksilver thing, a glimpse of a fang peeking out and damn that wasn’t there before was it? He’s been stalking tailing the kid for two days how did he miss this?

Sam snorts. “C’mon Danny, be realistic. You know who we are, our will. What we’re like. And we know you. Our level of contamination won’t ever be the same but we’re closer to you than we are the barista and you know it.” Might he repeat: what the hell? What does that even mean? He does not like the implications of the word contamination though, are they safe to be around? They’re kids either way and he’ll help them. Even if Daniel Fenton seems dead set on the path of villainy (with his apparent four (4!) books of horrors and detailed notes on the various heroes) maybe these kids aren’t too deep? He’s always had a strange relationship with his rouges so he’s sure he can do it, steer these kids away from the path of villainy.

“Our bodies will be six feet under one day,” Tuck finishes her sentence, “but what’re the chances either of us actually stay there?” Oh. Oh. Barry doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that implication one little bit, actually. Although to be perfectly honest he’s not quite sure what the implication is besides bad.

At that point the kids all share a secretive smile and things go back to normal. They switch back to small talk and the very air feels lighter for it even if his heart feels heavier. He’s not- he’s not sure how to handle this. He knows he needs to go report, tell someone but- but not yet. They look so carefree even if he knows they could do a lot of damage just by selling the kids notes but- well. He’s not sure what the but is but it can’t hurt to just take a minute. An hour. He may be the fastest man alive but surely it can’t hurt to slow down for just a bit. Besides, maybe they’ll start talking again. Yeah that’s it, that’ll be a good justification, even if only to himself.

Dc x Dp Prompt #24

I love how no one talked about the possibility of Danny being the "Izuku Midoriya" of the Dp x Dc Crossover. And by that, I mean a total hero fan with books filled to the brim about information for every hero he ever knows.From their abilities to all the top fights they've had against villains. Martian Manhunter has the most of course, though Red Hood has become a close second.

Now, imagine Danny going to any of the towns in his human form and losing one of said notebooks, with the city hero right behind him as he did. Picking it up and reading it, it is thought that Danny was some upcoming supervillain and needed to be kept an eye on with how well he managed to study them. Meanwhile, Danny is curious as to where one of his notebooks went. And why does he suddenly feel like he's being watched?

[kandlewick]

everyone awoke to malleus defeated. except for you meant to be read as platonic malleyuu but can be read as romantic.

Malleus could hardly breathe. every inhale felt like it was too small, like the air surrounding him was too thin. His lungs were empty, barren, and dry. And then he would exhale. a shaky breath. It rattled his bones and burned in his chest. As if nothing but flames raged in his insides. Before him laid a friend, a betrayed comrade, someone who put too much trust in the wrong people. You. You were asleep there, in a bed of thorns and roses, nestled deep and safe. Each petal cradled your cheek like a picture frame and you were a work of art. It all felt so clinical, so far away that Malleus could hardly tear his eyes away from your sleeping form. while constricted by vines to your familiar bed in ramshackle, no thorns pierced your skin. you knew no pain lying there. only dreams. It hardly felt real.

Malleus had made a mistake. He knew he had as soon as the blot began pouring from behind his tongue. but he couldn't stop it. the delirium. it poured out of him like a cracked glass of sand. In those fleeting moments, nothing had mattered more to him. The blot retched every single negative emotion out of his soul, bearing it for the world to bear witness to. And he was ashamed.

but you and the others had succeeded against him, saving all of your classmates and himself from the curse of eternal slumber. One by one, they all began awakening. Eyelids fluttering in the new morning sun. He awoke to the sound of laughter and cheers while he laid there on the broken floor, alone and empty and so so cold. Quietly, Malleus raised his head to thank? Curse? The Ramshackle prefect that laid beside him.

only, you remained there. asleep. too far gone and too far deep for anyone to reach out to. it was like your soul and body were separated, torn asunder. the only sign of life was your chest moving up and down from the breath that filled your lungs. At the moment, Malleus thought perhaps you were simply exhausted, with the heavy bags under your eyes and the pale complexion dusting your cheeks. Like the others, he thought that you only needed more rest. But days passed and there were still no signs of life behind those closed eyes. The teachers talked amongst themselves, unwilling or perhaps unable to offer any sort of explanation. There were talks about asking for assistance from other bodies but they were quick to be shot down. It seemed like nobody knew what to do with you. Or… your body. 

Nobody took it well.

Malleus in particular had ceased his studies, locking himself away in your room in Ramshackle. Ace and Deuce would appear on occasion, Grim in tow, but the three were quick to make themselves scarce once Malleus made it clear he was not leaving your bedside. He sat there for hours, uncaring of the passing of time as night became morning and dawn became dusk. What were mere days to a nigh immortal fae. If this was his curse, to watch the one human who befriended him and suffered for it waste away from his own folly, then so be it. Every morning, like clockwork, he sat there. Unflinching. Unmoving. Like a gargoyle. His eyes were empty and red, long dried from tears but he couldn’t drag himself away from you - he refused to even think of calling you a corpse. 

This day was like any other. He sat there beside you, his hands in his lap, the book he had foolishly planned to humor to read had been cast aside long forgotten, but for some reason the sight of you there pricked at his heart more than before. His voice came out quiet, weak from disuse, but he made an effort all the same. 

“My child of man.” he croaked, his tone heavy with shame and sadness, “I will not ask you for forgiveness.”

He took a shaky breath. Hesitantly, he reached out with a weak hand and clasped your own. The thorns around you pricked him and drew blood, but he paid no mind to it. He felt nothing. Numb. Malleus choked back tears as he pulled your hands close to his chest and against his still beating heart. He lowered his head in agony as he confessed like a convict at death’s door. “What I have done to you is unforgivable.”

He held you to him. Like if he held onto you tight enough, you wouldn’t fall even more to pieces. “You were my first true friend, my closest companion. The only one who treated me as if I was an equal…” He bit back a sob as he tried to cradle his face between his hands, desperate for your touch to once again warm his bones. But there was nothing. Only the cold. “And now I’ve lost you.”

“And not a day shall pass in the centuries that I am cursed to live will I ever forget your smile.” Then with an almost reverent touch, the prince brought your hand to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss to the back of your hand. His lips stayed there, the taste of salt and skin filling his tongue, but he made no effort to move while he cried.

So far gone was he that he never noticed the batting of eyelashes, the furrowed brows, or the intake of breath. So far gone that it wasn’t until he felt your hand, tiny and weak, press against his dark hair, did he lift his head.

“Good morning, Hornton.”

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

The Physicality of Sauron x Galadriel: Cosmic Connection and Physical Attraction

We already heard the expression “cosmical connection” a million times, and even I already discussed that in this post. Expressions like “higher beings” and such have been used by the actors and show producers to describe Sauron and Galadriel’s connection.

And, then, we have this iconic moment:

What does this “cosmic connection” means? Both Galadriel and Sauron/Mairon are immortal spirits. Mairon, as a Maia, is one of the Ainur, and one of the forces who first shaped the world, alongside the Valar (Ainulindalë or “Music of the Ainur”). He’s ancient, being around since the Days before Days (before the world was created).

Galadriel was born during the Years of the Trees, thousands of years later. And she’s of one the Children of Ilúvatar, an Elf. Her grandparents were among the first Elves created by Eru to live in Valinor.

What’s the difference?

Mairon belongs to the Unseen world, because he is, up and foremost, a spiritual being. And like all Maiar and Valar, he can choose his physical form (Halbrand, Annatar, etc.) in the Seen world. And he’s not bound to it, but these forms are all the same spirit. Hence the big focus on “Halbrand is Sauron” in Season 2, and even Charlie Vickers said many times in recent interviews how he wanted to show that continuity between both characters in his interpretation of Sauron in Season 2.

Galadriel belongs to the Seen world, and cannot chose her physical form. She’s bound to the one she was born with (in this sense, Elves are pretty much like Men, who are also Children of Ilúvatar). In the Third age, Galadriel can move between the Seen and Unseen world, but that’s not the case when she and Mairon first meet.

Let’s see what happens when Maiar and Elves fall in love:

Melian and Thingol

In the Valaquenta, we were introduced to some Maiar of interest. Melian was one of these. She’s a Maia to Vána (Vala of preserving youth and of fauna and flora on Middle-earth, also known as “Queen of Flowers”) and Estë (Vala of healing and purveyor or restful sleep). Melian dwells on the gardens of Lórien, and has a magical voice, great wisdom and was beloved by all. Birds, especially nightingales (her signature friends) surround her at all times. Around the time the Elves are created by Eru, she ventures across the Sundering Seas and arrives on Middle-earth.

Centuries later, the Teleri are the third or the Elf clans (alongside the Noldor and the Vanyar) to take the Great Journey, from Valinor to Middle-earth. Their leader, Elwë (Thingol) has the habit of wandering the woods by himself. One day, he ventures a forest called Nan Elmoth, in Beleriand. And there she meets Melian, and he was absolutely smitten.

“Enchantment” falls on him, and when he actually hears Melian’s voice, it’s all over. Her song fills “all his heart with wonder and desire.” And this is before he actually sees her: when he finally does set eyes on her, he’s at awe, because the “light of Aman” is reflected in her face.

Love overtakes Thingol, completely. He takes Melina’s hand, and “straightway a spell is laid on him.” Suddenly his plans (to reunite with his friend Finwë, to lead his people to Valinor, to dwell again in the light of the Two Trees) just disappear. He forgets everyone and everything. Thingol and Melian just stand there, looking at each others’ eyes, hands clasped, and perfectly still, for (according to some sources) 200 years. The trees grown tall around them. And no one knows Thingol is there, so his people search for him in Beleriand, in vain.

Since this event seem so over the top, many speculate that an actual spell, indeed, fall upon Thingol, even thought Tolkien gives no indication of him being “enslaved” or joining with Melian against his will. Anyway, one theory is that this meeting was orchestrated by Eru himself, because many key events happened because of it. Meaning, they were “doomed” to meet and fall in love:

Thingol and Melian will go on to establish the first of the organized Elven kingdoms of Middle-earth, in Beleriand, and rule it as Queen and King: Doriath (and their people are known as the “Sindar”);

They will have a child, described as “fairest of all the Children of Ilúvatar that ever was or shall ever be”: Lúthien, who would help in defeating both Morgoth and Sauron in the future.

In order to be with Thingol (= have sex with him), Melian retained her physical form, and became bound to it after conceiving a child with him. Meaning she couldn’t access the Unseen world, anymore (= return to her true spiritual form).

“Rings of Power” created a parallel of Thingol and Melian’s first meeting with Galadriel and Mairon, throughout Season 1:

Then an enchantment fell on him, and he stood still; and afar off beyond the voices of the lómelindi he heard the voice of Melian, and it filled all his heart with wonder and desire.

He forgot then utterly all his people and all the purposes of his mind, and following [the sound] and was lost

But he came at last to a glade open to the stars, and there Melian stood; and out of the darkness he looked at her, and the light of Aman was in her face. She spoke no word;

[…] but being filled with love Elwë came to her and took her hand,

[…] and straightway a spell was laid on him so that they stood.

[…] thus while long years were measured by the wheeling stars above them; [not only are they outside, but Galadriel armor has a star sigil – and, no, this is not Fëanor’s sigil, it’s a different design] 

[...]; and the trees of Nan Elmoth grew tall and dark before they spoke any word

Like Thingol and Melian, there is no need for words between them. They look into each others’ eyes and feel it (“I’ve felt it too”). This makes it hard for the audience to understand what is happening between them, but it is what it is.

However, I think this was *the moment* when they truly saw the extent of their mutual feelings for each other; when their souls are merging due to being bound together (via Morgoth’s crown). Which explains their reactions here: Galadriel is shocked, and Mairon is in happy disbelief. “Wait- you’re actually in love with me?”

Galadriel thinks Sauron is evil incarnate, she’s not shocked because he stabbed her, come on.

Which, again, explains this expression over here. This is pure joy, and he has tears on his eyes: Mairon believes that Galadriel is about to join him, and they are going to run into Mordor the sunset together.

Cosmic connection and Physical attraction

Galadriel belongs to the Seen world, the same as Thingol. But their Maiar pair, Melian and Mairon, are from the Unseen world. Meaning: are these connections only spiritual (“cosmically”) or they have a physical component (“lust”), too?

We know that Thingol and Melian went physical with theirs, because they had a child together. Since Thingol is from the Seen world (and cannot access the Unseen world) he’s both a physical and spiritual being (Elf) but he’s only spiritual after the death of his physical body. The same with Galadriel.

Both Maiar and Valar are capable of feeling love and lust in Tolkien lore. We see this not only with Melian, but with all Valar couples. We also see Melkor/Morgoth lusting after Lúthien when he saw her dancing for him (this implies a very physical sentiment).

Then Morgoth looking upon her beauty [Lúthien] conceived in his thought an evil lust, and a design more dark than any that had yet come into his heart since he fled from Valinor. Thus he was beguiled by his own malice, for he watched her, leaving her free for a while, and taking secret pleasure in his thought. Lúthien dances for Morgoth on his Dark Throne [before she puts him and all the host of Angband to sleep with her magic singing]

In other works describing this episode, Tolkien goes on using words like “lust”, “hunger”, “blinding thrist”, “pleasure”, and stressing the importance of Morgoth trying to reach out for Lúthien with his hand (= he wants to touch her). Meaning, there is a real physical element at play here (even if it’s evil and diabolical).

Mairon himself got pretty “touchy” with Galadriel back in Season 1. This is not random, and this implies the connection between them was not only “cosmical”; Mairon, a spiritual being, wanted to touch Galadriel, meaning, there was as a physical element/attraction there, too.

We also saw this with Mirdania in Season 2, the she-elf of Eregion who reminded him of Galadriel, and was used as a plot device for the audience to see that Galadriel is always on Mairon’s mind.

Meaning: yes, Mairon wants to “shake the sheets” (or the table forge) with Galadriel. It’s not only “cosmical” or “spiritual”. He desires her, on a physical level, too.

Mairon, the Maia of Aulë

To understand the physical attraction, we need to go back to the beginning of Mairon himself.

Mairon was created by Eru as a Maia of Aulë, the Vala of smithing and handiwork. He was among the most powerful Maiar, and the purest one, too. Eru created him to be good and loyal, but also to love several things: crafting and creation (smithing), beauty, order and perfection, and to dislike wastefulness. These were, most likely, Mairon’s contributions to shape the world in the Ainulindalë.

Melkor/Morgoth used Mairon’s love of order and perfection to corrupt him, and turned it into an obsession with domination and control. Morgoth corrupted his goodness and loyalty into evil and treachery (turning him into “the great deceiver”). His love of beauty corrupted into ugliness, by the breeding of the Orcs. Mairon’s greatest virtues became his downfall.

And who better embodies the qualities of “beauty” and “perfection” than Galadriel herself? Her beauty is the stuff of legends, and everyone is at awe when they first meet her. Her very gold/silver hair inspired the most legendary jewels in existence: the Silmarils. The light of the Two Trees of Valinor shine on her hair and eyes.

We also see Galadriel connected with “smithing”: she’s the object of the love and lust of the two legendary Elven smiths: Fëanor and Celebrimbor (Brimby in Tolkien lore, not in “Rings of Power”). Fëanor was inspired by how the light caught her hair to create the Silmarils; and he asked her for a few strands of hair, three times, and three times she denied him. In the Third age, Galadriel would gift strands of her hair to Gimli, a Dwarf, a Child of Aulë (the Dwarves were created by Aulë himself; another connection to smithing and to Mairon’s original Vala).

Yes, "Rings of Power" really went there. All the paralells.

Galadriel is also connected with power, something Mairon liked from the beginning, too (which caused Melkor to target him and get him to his side). She's not only power-hungry, but she's powerful, herself, and will only grow in power as the years go by. She's a natural leader, proud and rebellious; she was born to rule (literally, because her father was High King of the Noldor in Valinor, she’s an actual princess).

Just like Thingol and Melian!

Galadriel was also a pupil of Aulë and his wife Yavanna, back in Valinor. Which means, that if Mairon wasn’t corrupted by Morgoth/Melkor and he didn’t betray the Valar, they would have met, then. And what would have happened? Galadriel would never marry Celeborn, in the first place, that’s for sure (they met on Middle-earth, not in Valinor). And if sparkles happened in Middle-earth, in the most antagonist of scenarios (with Mairon already corrupted), OG Mairon and Artanis (Galadriel’s original name) meeting would set Aulë’s forge on fire. Artanis would have the most enviable jewelry collection in all of Arda. Because Mairon would gift her and worship her, nonstop: I will place crown(s) upon your head. I will never rest until all Arda had been brought to its knees, to worship the light of its Queen.

The “what ifs” don’t stop here. Because Artanis and Mairon power couple would parallel Yavanna and Aulë, too. Yavanna, Aulë’s wife and queen, “Queen of the Earth”, physical form is described: “in the form of a woman she is tall, and robed in green (…) crowned with the Sun; and from all its branches there spilled a golden dew upon the earth.”

Wild how “Rings of Power” already went there. Several times:

In fact, the first regal outfit we see Galadriel wear in "Rings of Power" is a teal (greenish-blue) cape and a gold dress. And she's wearing a gold flower crown. All hail, Queen Artanis, stronger than the foundations of the earth? Interesting choice of words, because Aulë created the "foundations of the earth" (= mountains).

In 2x02, we see Galadriel planting flowers, while wearing green and with a gold leaf crown on her head (as she was meant to be):

How could Mairon not love her? That’s the real question. Galadriel is the materialization, the physical form, of everything he was designed to love. And she can’t change her physical form, mind you. She belongs to the Seen world.

And this was probably the reason why Eru brought them together, in the first place: for Mairon to recall his original purpose. And probably to rub on his face what he lost for being a evil b*tch and side with Melkor. Galadriel is already bound to another (Celeborn) in the eyes of the Valar and the Eldar. The only way to “undone” that is for the Valar themselves to give permission.

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ REQUIESCAT IN PACE ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. the dead deserve their happy endings.

CHARACTERS. dainsleif, tartaglia, zhongli

CONTENT. gn!reader. afterlife au. angst. 1.8k wc. rewrite of requiescat in pace at my old main blog @/verxsyon. everyone dies and ascends to a higher plane of existence. fan interpretation of snezhnaya and celestia arc. allusions to war, so expect blood and death. tartaglia and reader adopted children together in the afterlife. dainsleif killed reader from the curse. reader is killed by their spouse (zhongli). petnames (my dear, darling - zhongli).

VERA. it’s been three years since this fic was posted. crazy how time flies. i remember crying when i wrote this. hopefully i’ll make you all suffer as well hahaha.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. DAINSLEIF

five hundred years ago is when dainsleif committed the gravest mistake of his life. he was the twilight sword, a royal guard sworn to protect the people and the royalties of khaenri’ah. his people placed their trust in him to stop the destruction of the nation, only to watch them turn into monsters from the curse laid upon them.

the castle he enters with the traveler and paimon holds many memories he wishes to forget. it was occupied by the eclipse dynasty, the ruler of khaenri’ah before its destruction. he was well acquainted with the heir at the time: you, and soon fell in love. he passes by your room, where he killed you to stop your transformation. realizing what he had done, he left for them to suffer.

“dainsleif,” the abyss herald sneers. dainsleif is so used to that tone of voice. him and the rest of the abyss, especially its leader, have the right to resent him. the traveler and paimon are not here to back him up as they are looking for the twin, so he must atone his own sins himself.

“do whatever you need to do,” dainsleif says, starry voids emitting from his palms. “i don’t intend to hold back.”

the curse of immortality. how sickening. for five hundred years, he has wandered aimlessly for information about his nation. regardless of the amount he has gathered, he wants to end his journey here. he trusts the traveling duo to answer the rest for him.

is death supposed to be this painful? well-deserved for a coward like him. he can sense the satisfaction from the herald destroying him inside his body with hydro. the abyss now has one less problem to deal with. dainsleif can feel himself slipping away, departing the world still a sinner. 

“sir dainsleif. their highness requests your presence.” he is at the castle, decorated with life instead of the dust and cracks when he first arrived. the guard with him possesses no signs of abyssal features. everyone here doesn’t.

behind the double doors is you admiring the plants on the balcony. he gapes at your appearance: the heir of the eclipse dynasty, beautiful and regal as ever. you thank the guard for bringing him over, and they take their leave. this can’t be real.

“my dear dainsleif.” he loses his composure, rushing over to you to pull you into his embrace. your eyes soften upon feeling his sobs on your neck. “my love? are you alright?”

he sniffs, tightening his grip. your touch, your voice, your love for him, he misses them all. “forgive me, your highness. let’s stay like this for a while.”

“i told you to drop the formalities when we’re alone. we’re lovers, aren’t we?” you chuckle, your fingers finding purchase in his blonde locks. oh, how he misses that feeling. “and what are you saying sorry for? we’re all human here. if that makes you feel better, we can stay like this as long as you like.”

dainsleif lifts his head to kiss your knuckles and then presses his lips on yours. he does not know what brought him here, but he is truly grateful. whatever this realm is called, as long as you’re by his side, he will always be forgiven.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. TARTAGLIA

tartaglia is naive about the future. the desire to protect it influences his decision to serve the tsaritsa. with the mora he earned as a harbinger, he hopes to buy his family a house and send teucer to school. when the war is over, he plans to settle with you and live in a cabin where the two of you ice fish with your children.

if only it was that easy. his family is suffering from financial hardships, and the mora he sends is their savior. as for you, you severed ties with him a long time ago because of moral differences. in fact, you lead the faction that opposes the cryo archon and the fatui as your act of revenge for your family.

the palace is in shambles. the traveler and paimon escort the tsaritsa out of the throne room to allow you and tartaglia to compromise. your mind is not easily swayed as expected, given that you spent most of your life waiting to kill. your fate has been decided, when bloodlust overtook him and made him pierce his weapon through your stomach.

“no!” he cradles your body into his arms. his grief causes his delusion to spiral out of control, bringing the palace to destruction. the traveler and paimon rush back inside the room, yelling at the harbinger to get out of there. but he chooses to stay.

“traveler, can you please do me a favor?” they look at him in shock when he places the tip of their on his chest. “put me out of my misery before i lose control. i want to see my friend again. and when you see my family, tell them i’m sorry for everything.”

swift and painless, exactly how he wants death to feel like. the boulders come crashing down upon you and him, and he blacks out. he wonders if the tsaritsa and the traveler will succeed in preventing the second cataclysm. he wonders how his family will handle the news. teucer will be affected the most, feeling betrayed by his big brother lying that he’ll come home soon.

he wonders about you. if you two ever come to a mutual understanding, will the future be any different?

“papa!” a voice of a child calls, waking him up to a scenery full of snow. he spots a cabin in the distance, where a little girl is waving at him with a proud grin. she runs up to him with a bucket in tow, tripping on lumps of ice along the way.

“papa, look! i caught some fish!” she exclaims, showing him the content of her bucket. a cacophony of high-pitched screams echo. more children spook him by hugging his legs.

“good job, baby. you found papa.” he gasps at the sight of you kissing the girl’s forehead. he can’t believe it. “okay, kids. since papa is here, let’s go home. we’re going to eat fish for dinner.”

“yay!” the kids who seem to be his children happily zoom to the cabin, making you chuckle. tartaglia doesn’t waste any time hugging you tight. he can’t lose you again.

“ajax?” it’s been a while since you called him by his birth name. you cup his cheeks with worry when you see tears streaming down his face. “are you okay?”

he nods, kissing you as if his life depends on it. “i’m okay. shall we go home? we don’t want to keep our kids waiting, do we?”

hand in hand, the two of you follow your children to the cabin. in a future where a war between all creatures of teyvat is over, ajax is finally home.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ZHONGLI

the past six thousand years have been prolific of brutality. old friends and acquaintances were subjected to erosion, being forced to neutralize them. one is unfortunate enough to perish from the archon war, leading to the creation of liyue harbor.

if there is one thing to take away from her advice, it’s about the concept of change. he is the type of person to slowly adapt into it. her death and the death of the land they both created is not easy to accept. change isn’t a bad thing, she had said. he did not take her words into heart until he met you.

you’re a mortal who lived in a village, you spent more time exploring the outskirts without letting everyone know. you couldn’t care less, having a dream to live in a lively city like liyue. a certain archon would’ve loved you, for you valued freedom. 

he finds you to be quite humorous. once you joked about eloping with the former archon somewhere teeming with fireflies and crystalflies. when he asked you to define the term, you brushed it off and changed the subject. if he knew you weren’t kidding, you wouldn’t have fallen victim to your marriage.

shame, at such a young age too. he regrets not being able to keep you safe, reminding him of his failure with his old friends and the people who are fighting in the second cataclysm by his side. at the climax of the war, he comes face to face with the gods who stirred the calamities around the world for centuries. as much as he wants to stray from violence, he can’t let them win.

“i will no longer stay silent,” he growls, summoning his pillars around incoming enemies. contracts are sacred, no matter who he established them with. breaking any of those would result in facing the wrath of the rock. breaking the one he signed with celestia would mean he would suffer under his own wrath.

gold liquid spills onto the floor, and his ears are blocked by white noise. no, he can’t die like this. not right this instant. his allies haven’t reached an advantage yet. how is it possible for the strongest deity to already fall like this?

six thousand years of changes and sacrifices. the geo element is strong and unmoving, yet it can also crumble. zhongli has to keep on fighting for the sake of his allies and those who have perished, and yours. all he needs to do is take that extra step to victory.

“zhongli?” that voice is familiar. too familiar. he gazes at his swarms of fireflies and crystalflies circling around your figure. your fingers lingers across his cheek with a somber smile. “my dear, you looked troubled in your sleep. do you want to talk about it?”

he leans on your shoulder, inhaling your scent. he’s so tired, enduring six thousand years worth of cycles of life and death among his nation. “hm, i will eventually. but please let me rest first, darling…”

“okay,” you hum, linking your hand with his. “rest well, zhongli. if you need a shoulder to cry on, i will be here. i won’t ever leave your side.”

you tilt his head to kiss him, tasting the salt of his tears on your lips. his allies may be gone and treasured in his memories, you choose to remain by his side and give him relief that he won’t be alone. not anymore.

zhongli is not the same person he was before, and believes he will never be. cradling the finger adorned with the ring crafted from the abundant rocks in liyue, it gives him hope. you are his pillar. when at his lowest, you and your army of lights will guide him back to the surface.

[eufezco]

FAMILY (old man logan x psychic reader)

this is based on that xmen97' in which jean goes to the hospital and they don't want to attend her labor. this can be extremely triggering to some of you since it includes miscarriages so be careful 🫶🏻 but i couldn't give it a sad ending so i kept writing 😭

this is sooo long and i could've kept going talking about old man logan being a dad so i might do a part two. english isn't my first language !!

—logan —. you called him. you used one of your hands to shook his body while your other one rested on your belly.

logan was sleeping peacefully by your side. he rubbed his eyes and frowned when, thanks to the light coming in from the street, he saw your cheeks wet from your tears.

—i can't hear her. i can't- i can't hear her, lo —. you repeated in a rush.

it took him a few seconds to understand what you were talking about but when he finally did, he was quick to get out of bed and turn on the light on his bedside table. he was immortal but his heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw the blood between your legs.

he found it hard to breathe as you both looked into each other's eyes.

he had never seen an expression of terror like the one you had on your face that night. he had a hard time reacting, his body did not respond, he wanted to think that he was inside one of his horrible nightmares. but the sound of your sobs at the sight of the blood, how you squeezed your legs together and your eyes closed shut from the pain of the cramps brought him back to reality.

logan ran to your side of the bed and took you in his arms. —it's okay, baby, it's okay. we're going to the hospital now, it's okay —. you heard him murmur as he kissed your forehead.

when you two left the room, laura was waiting at the door. she had her claws out, after hearing the cries she was already assuming the worst. her facial expression changed from anger to concern when she saw you in his arms, holding onto his neck and crying. she noticed your blood-stained pajama pants. laura hid her claws and followed logan out of the house and to the limousine.

he carefully placed you in the back seats and stopped the girl when she tried to get in the car with you. laura gave him an angry look.

—no, i need you here with charles.

laura grunted and tried to get in the car again. logan stopped her one more time.

—laura, please.

logan was practically begging. his eyes were glossy with tears, he tried to hide it but his hands were shaking. laura gave up after hearing the tone of desperation in which he asked her to stay. she stepped back so logan could get into the car, still frowning that he wouldn't let her go with you.

—wake up charles, tell him what happened and bring him home with you.

laura nodded. logan started the car and stepped on the gas and once you arrived at the hospital, he took you in his arms again. he carefully laid you down on the stretcher brought by the nurses, his grip lingering on your hand as long as possible. when he tried to go with you, they wouldn’t let him.

logan’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, but he didn’t argue. he didn’t want to make a scene. despite the urge to fight his way through, to stay by your side, he held back. and he waited, his legs bouncing restlessly, eyes fixed on the doors, hoping someone would come out to give him news. but no one said anything. he waited for what felt like an eternity until, unable to bear it any longer, he stormed up to the front desk.

—where is she? —he growled, eyes dark with rage. the nurse glanced up, confused, looking at papers before finally letting out the truth: they had forgotten to tell him.

forgotten. you had been alone for hours and no one had bothered to let him know. his fists slammed down on the desk, the sound echoing through the quiet waiting room as his voice rose. —you forgot? she’s been in there alone, and you forgot?

they called for a doctor, fearing the situation was escalating. the doctor was cold, didn’t even bother to make eye contact, his gaze focused on the clipboard in his hands. —she had a miscarriage, we are sorry, sir —. the doctor said and continued talking but logan couldn't hear anything past those eight words. he closed his eyes, focusing on his own breathing, shallow as it was. one of his hands moved to his chest, his heart was racing.

all the anger turned into pain and he hated it. —but why? what happened? —. he didn't even know where he got the strength to ask.

—we are not sure, maybe it have been due to her mutation.

logan closed his eyes again and shook his head. sadness quickly turned into a stronger feeling, one that made his face burn and his fists clench tightly. —she's a psychic, what the fuck would that have to do with her pregnancy?

—sir.

—no one in this fucking hospital has ever cared about us.

—sir, i'm going to have to ask you to calm down. we treat all of our-

—always blaming our mutations instead of doing your fucking jobs.

and when he finally saw you, lying on the hospital bed, he ran and wrapped his arms around you. when he entered the room he noticed that you had been crying before, your eyes were red and your face was wet. —i'm so sorry, —he whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he held you. —i should have been here. god, i'm so sorry.

—i'm sorry, logan, i'm so sorry —you sobbed against his chest. his hands held your head closer to him, his fingers caressed your hair. you began to sob as soon as your head rested on his chest

—it's not your fault, baby. you did nothing —he mumbled. he planted a kiss on the top of your head as he struggled to not let the tears in his eyes slide down his cheeks. —it's not your fault, you hear me? i'm sorry this happened to you.

laura didn't quite know how to approach you.

she was not good with words and physical contact had never been her greatest strength either. she definitely took it after her father. she would stand in the doorway of your room watching you curled up on the bed. it seemed wrong to go in, you had a hard time sleeping and when you finally did, logan made sure that no one bothered you. but it felt even more wrong to just stand there once again without doing anything.

she walked carefully into the room and sat down on the bed. with even more care, she placed your head on her legs and played with your hair the same way logan did until you finally fell asleep. he peeked into the room when he saw the door open, she thought he would get angry but he simply closed the door and left you.

charles spent more time at home than in his hideout.

the morning after you came home from the hospital he moved with his wheelchair to your room. you were sitting on the edge of the bed, with your head down and a hand on your belly. it had not had time to grow much, you were still in the first trimester of pregnancy but you could already notice how it was beginning to swell and become hard.

charles placed a hand on your head and closed his eyes. he could feel the sorrow and guilt, the overwhelming sense of loss. the thoughts echoed in your mind and now also in his. was it something you did? something you didn’t do? there was shame, a feeling of failure that made it hard to look others in the eye, in logan's eyes, afraid he might see the same blame you saw in yourself. beneath it all was the quiet pain of loneliness, even if you weren’t truly alone, and the sense of helplessness that made everything feel out of control.

charles blanked your mind for a few seconds and you sighed in relief.

logan didn’t know how to talk about the loss.

his silence wasn't indifference, he had just never been one to talk about his feelings but it never crossed his mind to leave you alone for a second. only when he had to go to work and he spent the whole night driving and thinking about you. when he came home, he'd crawl into bed with you and hug you from behind. sometimes, when he was gone, laura would take his place and fall asleep next to you. you would end up squeezed between the two of them and in those moments, everything hurt a little less.

every now and then, you’d catch him staring at you, his eyes heavy with a mixture of pain and love, like he wished he could take it all away for you but knew he couldn’t.

you know he was grieving too, even if he never said it aloud, you could hear it in his thoughts. his grief wasn’t the kind that spilled out in tears or words, it stayed locked inside him. he’d work late into the night on something, fixing things that didn’t need fixing, pouring all his energy into tasks that kept his hands busy and his mind focused. and when he finally lay in bed next to you, his breath would hitch, just for a moment, when he thought you had fallen asleep.

you barely had the strength to use your powers, but you needed to know what was going through his mind. you knew that sometimes just being near him was enough. you’d rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his body slowly ease. his mind became quieter, more peaceful, when you were with him, as if your connection was the only thing that soothed him.

some weeks later, there was a knock on your door. you exchanged quick glances with logan and charles because visitors were rare since you lived in the middle of nowhere so whoever was on the other side couldn’t have come by accident. logan, with a defensive attitude, went to see who was at the door while you waited with charles. laura followed logan, her small figure staying close behind, and her hand gripping the fabric of his jeans.

—the wolverine —. the young woman at your door said in a sigh, surprised.

logan rolled his eyes and tried to shut the door after hearing that name. the girl pushed it with extreme force, making the wood creak and logan and laura had to take a step backwards. laura pulled out her claws while logan was shocked.

she was a mutant.

—oh, sorry. i didn't mean to, i still don't know how to control it.

—yeah? why don't you figure it out away from my fucking property? —he said through gritted teeth and tried to close the door again.

—wait! my mom is a doctor! she works with mutants!

logan was only getting angrier, how did she find where you lived? and what was she suggesting? because it sounded like you were all going to be locked up in a laboratory. he finally managed to shut the door.

—i'm not here to cause any trouble! she knew charles, she studied at oxford as well! i was at the hospital the night you lost the baby! —the girl said from outside the house as silence fell inside of it.

logan opened the door again, angrily, but before he could do or say anything, charles called his name and rolled the wheelchair to the door, his calm presence cutting through the intensity of the moment. the girl's surprise at seeing charles xavier himself alive was even stronger than when she was greeted by the wolverine. —professor xavier... you're alive.

charles smiled faintly and nodded. —now, why don’t you come inside and explain yourself? It seems you’ve come quite a long way.

logan’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t stop charles. he still didn’t trust the girl, not for a second, but he trusted charles. his eyes flicked to you, not really sure what was going on. laura sat next to you when the young woman entered your house, her eyes never leaving the stranger as she approached to say hello. her small body shifted subtly, leaning forward just enough to shield you.

—start talking, —logan growled —how did you find us, and what the hell do you want?

—i didn't come to harm you or your family —. she said quickly. —my name is amy. i'm named after my mom, dr. amy, she's been working with mutants for years, helping them. she met charles at oxford.

charles slowly nodded. —i remember amy. she was brilliant. she was studying medicine by the time i was finishing my phd in genetics. she had this mutation in her eyes...

amy nodded. —heterochromia, yes, that’s her —. her gaze shifted to you. —i was at the hospital that night, i'm doing my residency there, i'm sorry for the way you were both treated. —she continued, her voice softening with sympathy. —i didn’t mean to intrude, but i’ve been following your situation closely ever since. i… i’m sorry for your loss.

you slowly nodded. you sensed that she had no bad intentions, you had seen it inside her head.

—i looked at your papers and no one in that hospital was following your pregnancy. there were no record of your ultrasound scans, no scheduled checkups. they haven’t even called you for the routine appointments.

the room fell silent, her words hanging in the air like a heavy weight. logan’s reaction was instant. his fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening with anger. the realization hit you hard—they had practically left your baby to die, neglecting something so vital, so basic. you wanted to cry. your hand instinctively moved to your belly. the tears threatened to spill, but you held them back.

—what does your mother have to do with us? —logan asked.

—my mom can help you, in case you want to try for a baby again.

you had never really thought about it, the pain of losing the first was still too fresh. logan had never pushed the idea, either. but with this stranger standing in your home, offering hope, you felt something stir inside you. it wasn’t exactly the desire to try again, but more like a door had been cracked open, just enough for the possibility to slip through.

—she has a clinic in the city, —the girl continued, sensing the tension in Logan but not backing down. —she’s helped many mutants who’ve been denied care in hospitals. she has dedicated her life to helping us, not just our symptoms but understanding our struggles. she truly cares.

—why would we trust her? how can we know that she’s any different from the rest? —you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

—because i’m here, —the girl insisted, her voice steady. —i wouldn’t put myself in danger if i didn’t believe in what she does. i’ve seen her work with people who’ve been told they’re not worth the effort. she doesn’t treat us like lab rats; she treats us like people.

after countless conversations with logan and making sure that he was truly ready too, you both finally decided to go to see dr. amy.

the doctor who greeted you was a kind-looking elderly woman with a gentle smile that immediately put you at ease. her eyes, one blue and one green, radiated understanding. you didn’t need to tell her your story—her daughter had already filled her in so you wouldn’t have to relive the pain.

you went to see her several times, although most of them it was you who did the talking as Logan sat beside you, listening intently. he was always there, his presence solid, even if his words were few. after several visits and tests, after long talks and careful consideration, you both finally decided that you were ready to try again.

you stepped out of the bathroom, the pregnancy test gripped tightly in your hand, your heart racing as if it might burst from your chest. he'd been pacing, hands running over his face. the second he heard the door open, he stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. his eyes immediately locked onto yours, desperate for any sign the test result.

—it's positive —. you spoke in a soft, quiet voice.

logan froze, his eyes widened slightly at your words. he stared at you, then at the test, and back to your face again. —you’re… you’re pregnant?

you nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. —yeah, it’s positive.

as soon as he hugged you, the tears started to fall. you couldn’t hold them back any longer—fear, relief, and everything in between overwhelmed you. you buried your face in his chest, your body shaking with quiet sobs. —i’m so scared —. you whispered against him, your voice trembling.

—i know, baby, i'm scared too. but it'll work —. logan held you tighter and kissed the top of your head. you felt how as his hands shook as he gently stroke your back.

logan made it a priority to talk with the doctor at every appointment, asking questions, wanting to know exactly what you needed and how he could help. and he made the pregnancy feel easier in ways you hadn’t expected, he remembered every mental notes he had taken from the doctor.

he’d help you with things like showering when it became difficult to balance or reach certain places. his touch was always gentle, his movements careful, making sure you felt safe and supported. and every night he'd gently rub lotion on your growing belly and give you foot massages, his strong calloused hands rubbing away the soreness from carrying extra weight. you’d close your eyes, sighing in relief, and he’d smile quietly. and when your clothes stopped fitting, it was him who offered up his own. he’d hand over his t-shirts and flannels, which hung loose on you and smelled like him.

laura was too scared to get close to you, her eyes wide with worry every time she saw your growing belly, as if you were too fragile to touch. but as the weeks passed, laura’s curiosity got the better of her, she hesitated before slowly approaching. she looked at your belly, then up to you for permission. when you gave her a soft smile and nodded, she knelt beside you.

she only placed her hand gently on your belly, her touch feather-light, almost afraid to make any real contact. then, she rested her head softly against your bump, her ear pressed close, hoping to hear her future sister. you watched as her face softened. she kept her hand on your belly, waiting, and after a few minutes, the baby gave a small kick. laura’s eyes lit up, her lips curving into a rare, genuine smile.

—she kicked —. she whispered, glancing up at you, as if asking if she was allowed to be excited.

the labor was easier than you had feared, but the pain still came in waves, intense and overwhelming. logan never left your side. he held your hand tightly through every contraction and encouraged you to push. and once your newborn daughter was placed on your chest, logan leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead as he told you how well you did.

not long after, the door to the room opened and there was laura. she gently approached, her gaze fixed on her new sister. logan stepped aside slightly, letting laura get closer. she stood next to the bed, staring in wonder, and then carefully, she reached out to touch the baby’s tiny hand.

logan was meant to be girl's dad.

[idontknowwhatimdoinglol]

soft yandere Apollo x reader x artemis (heal) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

you laid against the chest of Apollo, one of the gods who had taken you captive a few months ago. he ran one hand through your hair placing kisses along the side of your neck, the other around your waist holding you close to him. "you are looking beautiful today my sunshine" he whispered in your ear, causing you to blush a little. even though he and his sister stole you from the mortal world and forced you to become immortal they had never mistreated you, it was hard to ever stay mad at them. "i would have to agree with you brother, our moonlight is looking quite lovely today" Artemis says as she enters the room, apollo looks towards her resting his chin on your head. "you're home early from your duties dear sister" he says watching as she sets her bow down, "i wanted to return home to our darling" she answers sitting next to the both of you on the bed. she leans down to kiss your wrist but as she brought it to her lips she noticed a large bandaged along your arm. "what is this? what happened?" she asks concerned, moving to hold your face and check for more injury. "they had put their hand a little too close to one of my horse's manes and burnt their arm." AApollo says calmly stroking your hair. "you haven't healed it?" Artemis asks glaring at him. "he did, but he kept the bandage on in case." you say, not wanting to start a fight between the two. both of their gazes soften at your voice, Artemis holds your face in her hands softly stroking your cheek. "you need to be more careful, I do not know what I would do if we lost you." she says sternly before kissing your forehead. "you won't lose me." you reassure, holding her hand. "it is quite late, I would like to get some rest before my duties tomorrow" apollo says before falling back on the bed, pulling you down with him, you let out a laugh when you land back next to him, Artemis laying next to you pinning you between them. "goodnight sunshine" apollo says kissing your nose, and cuddling his face into your shoulder. "goodnight moonlight" Artemis says kissing the back of your shoulder. they may have taken you, but you couldn't resist falling in love with them.

- - - - - . o 0 O 0 o . - - - - -

[3vergr3en]

Heartbeat

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Summary: Evening naps in Jasper’s bed is a usual thing that happens daily, but the vampire isn’t complaining. Instead he loves it, Y/N’s heartbeat is Jasper’s haven.

Additional Info: (Fem!Human!Reader x Vampire!Jasper Hale.) Some sensual kisses being shared. Overall fluff. This is my first one-shot of Jasper Hale! Please ask for more requests!

Mentions of the Cullen Family, specifically Esme and Emmet.

TW: Slightly suggestive.

_________________

Rain droplets can be heard splattering outside onto the windows of Jasper’s room, but no sound can disrupt the deep slumber of Y/N. You were sprawled out on Jasper’s bed (that was installed shortly after your visits became more frequent). You were laying on your stomach, your left knee raised up to your side and your arms buried under the ivory colored silk pillow. Your breathing heavy but quiet. The aroma of Timber & Patchouli filled the interior, being lit by the vampire shortly after the mortal fell asleep.

Jasper laid beside the human, his back pressed against the wooden headboard of his bed while his hand played with a strand of Y/N’s H/C hair, This was a usual event that happens, and he loved it. He couldn’t get enough of hearing the gentle, repetitive beats of her heart. It was calming for the immortal.

Whenever he felt stressed or overwhelmed, he’d stand behind the latter and wrap his arms around her waist. He then would hide his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, breathing in the female’s pleasant fragrance, drowning out his thoughts with her heartbeat.

“Jasper..?” Y/N calls out groggily. You slowly, but eventually push yourself up with your arms so that you’re now sitting up. Your arms extending outwards while a yawn left your lips. “Yes, darlin’?” Jasper quietly chuckles, finding the tired mortal to be cute. “I’m right behind you, love.” His voice soothing.

“Mm.. How long was I asleep for?” You ask, turning around to face Jasper with half-lidded eyes. “Just a little over an hour.” The male hums, reaching out to pull you onto his lap. You shiver at the sudden chilliness of his skin in contact with yours, but you soon grow used to it. “What are you looking at? Is there drool on my chin?” You question after noticing the male staring up at you. You turned your face away from the latter, trying to wipe away any saliva from the corner of your lips. “There’s nothing there, hon’. I’m just appreciating the beauty that’s in front of me.” Jasper whispers the last sentence into your ear, pecking your cheek afterwards. You quickly turned your head back to look at Jasper with slightly widened eyes. You gently hit his chest before covering your face with your hands, “Jasper!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, “..thank you, love.” You smiled, leaning in closer to fill the gap between the two of you, his lips feeling so soft against yours.

A small, faint gasp left your lips once you felt Jasper’s hands firmly grip at your waist, his thumbs caressing your skin. He smiled into the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours. You hum against his lips, pressing your chest up against his broad chest. Your hands riding up his soft, golden locks. “Jasper..” You pulled away momentarily to softly whisper before leaning back in. His lips detaches from yours, leaving a trail of kisses down to your jawline. “Are you hungry, my love?” He asks, pulling back to look at you in your eyes. You smile and nodded, “Starving actually.“

“Esme insisted on cooking tonight because she couldn’t the last time you came over. She felt very guilty for having you leave on an empty stomach, so beware for a feast.” Jasper chuckles as he intertwines both of your guy’s hands together, bringing them up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. “Oh god, how am I going to finish all of it? You and the cullen’s don’t eat food.” You pout as you make your way off of Jasper’s lap, worrying about how you’re going to finish all of the food. “It’s okay, just sleep over tonight and have the rest for breakfast tomorrow mornin’.” Jasper says as he shifts over to the edge of his bed, shortly standing up afterwards. “I suppose that’s fine. My parents are away for the weekend.” You shrugged, standing up from Jasper’s bed, laughing at Jasper’s enlightened face. “C’mere, give me a kiss.” You ordered, shuffling over to Jasper to wrap your arms around his neck, tipi-toeing to take the male’s lips into yours once again.

But the door slams open abruptly, revealing the tall, built brown-haired vampire. “Y/N! Dinner’s ready!” Emmet announces, immediately regretting his enthusiastic entrance when he’s met with Jasper’s glare. “Dude, seriously?”

“Thank you, Emmet!” You thank, equally as energetic as the brown-haired vampire. You looked over to Jasper with a grin, patting his chest in attempt to calm the latter.

“Oh shit— sorry. My bad.” He laughs, “I’ll just..” He trails off, speedily running down the hall to the stairway.

“Now.. where were we?” Jasper hums with a smirk, leaning in.

“Nuh-uh. C’mon cowboy. I’m hungry.” You laugh, quickly running away from the immortal before he has a chance to pull you back into a kiss.

“Hey-! Wait! That’s not fair!” Jasper calls out, using his vampire speed to easily catch up to the young woman.

[heatwa-ves]

tenth doctor voice hi jack sorry that I abandoned you on a spaceship after you died and were made immortal and then left you to deal with an imminent alien invasion alone that killed your partner and forced you to make the decision to kill your grandson and ruin your daughter's life to save the rest of the world! anyway that's all in the past I'm about to die so just wanted to give you that hot guy's name because you gotta go get laid depression does not suit you. bye!

[bambihrt]

HII HI

I love how you wrote Adam from hazbin hotel so I have a request! It is a little ANGSTY so if you don't want to do it it's okay!

Can you do Adam and his wife going to hell for extermination day and his wife saves him from nifty but also gets hurt by nifty?-

Sorry it's a little complicated I hope you have a good day!

thank you so much! i was listening to some sad music and let this get super angsty, i might come back and do a part 2 or an alternate ending later on

Dying was easy.

Waking up to the pearly gates and realizing you've been rewarded with heaven, made every decision in your life leading up to this moment worth it. You knew as long as you were a good person then good things would come to you. And the best thing you could ever hope for came in the shape of your husband Adam whom you met not long after entering heaven.

The angel was enamored the second he laid his eyes on you. Standing in line at the frozen yogurt shop while biting your lip and scanning the menu. You were the the most beautiful woman he's ever seen and being the first man, he'd seen a lot of women. He abandoned whatever Lute was saying to him and made his way over to you to strike up a conversation.

You two quickly formed a deep and intimate relationship. 'I love you's were all the other residents of heaven could hear when seeing the couple out. Over time you made your way up to being an exorcist as Adam hated parting with you for even a day. He couldn't think on the job properly as he'd count down the time until he got to see you again.

Though you didn't completely agree with extermination, this opinion was never voiced with your husband as you didn't see the conflict necessary. But this upcoming extermination day was worrying you. Of course, your husband being the man he is, had made an enemy of the princess of hell. As powerful as he may be and as nice as the girl was when you met her, you knew when push came to shove she'd have a lot better chance of winning a fight than he did. Your only peace of mind was that angels couldn't be killed. At the back of your mind you couldn't help but wonder 'what if they can be?'

You watched from afar while you were battling a hellborn, your husband fighting Lucifer, king of hell himself. The anxiety and pit in your stomach worsened the moment you saw one of your own go down. The second your husband met the ground, your instincts kicked in. While his back was turned in a rant, you watched a small red-headed girl make her way over. Your ears rang as you flew as fast as you can to push the love of your immortal life out of the way.

Your noble decisions seemed to still be giving you good luck as you had managed to save your Adam. Your presence drew the attention of everyone nearby. Seeing your lover's face look at your own brought you a smile. As you tried to speak to him you started to choke up. Coughing up gold liquid into your hand, you came to the same conclusion as when you had first become immortal. Dying was easy.

Black dots started to close around your vision and you fell to your knees. Your husband's arms caught you before you could fall onto your face. His face was horror-stricken. You tried to reach out to caress his cheek but you were too weak to make it. The wind lulled you to rest as he shot up to heaven's portal with you in his arms. The last thing you saw before your vision went black was Adam's face yelling out to you though you couldn't hear it.

[moonlight-prose]

PICK YOUR POISON

➻ 01. ATROPA BELLADONNA

a/n: the october season calls for me to delve into the grotesque and gothic story ideas i save up year round. so that's what this is! i love the idea of logan howlett stuck with an immortal reader. but there's a twist. our lovely reader isn't a mutant, but someone cursed to live life in the worst way possible. i hope you enjoy the small journey these two go on and happy spooky season!

summary: life as a lumberjack gives him the freedom to pretend he's human. that he hasn't lived enough lives to leave him withered and weary. ready for the grave that will never come. until he happens upon an unmarked grave in the middle of the forest and his life changes forever.

word count: 4.2k+

pairing: lumberjack!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: NOT EXPLICIT BUT DARK THEMES AHEAD, gothic themes, horror, necrophilia (kind of!), death, graves, vomiting, tw: blood, feral reader, poison, immortal!reader, curses, witchcraft of some kind, chance encounters, they're both a little unhinged in this one.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The forest is silent save for the rhythmic thump of an axe against wood. Life doesn't exist in the small sphere of dead branches and fallen leaves. No bugs, no birds. The wolves hunt elsewhere; the prey have all but abandoned a place where death permeates the air.

What was nature to do when someone so unnatural had been laid to rest?

He knew he was too far from the predetermined area. The yellow tape was marked for trees ready to be chopped down. But the sound of the men laughing about some bar they found had set his teeth on edge—a rush of anger from deep in his chest now resurfacing quicker than he liked.

Some days were better than others. Some days he could join in on the laughter, make simple conversation, and pretend to be normal.

Other days he felt the clawing urge to bite and snap and dig his claws into flesh rear in his head. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore that unhinged sensation. Even if he wanted to. On those days he preferred to be alone. Away from humanity, separate from what they wanted from him.

They saw him as a man.

Not an animal.

That should be enough to appease his restless spirit; give him some peace after so much chaos.

His teeth ground together in his clenched mouth, sweat sticking to the back of his neck despite the cold weather. The axe felt like an extension of his arms. Hacking away at the base of a tree he knew would make enough noise to draw attention once it tipped. That didn't deter him from repeating his swing. From baring his teeth and growling through it in order to dig out what calm he could.

The blade wedged itself halfway into the bark before he heard it. The stifled scream of a woman. His body went stiff, head whipping around to see if someone had followed him. The instincts from before—days spent as a soldier still burned into his nerves—began to overtake his senses as another muffled scream pierced his eardrums.

He left the axe behind, heart thumping an unsteady beat in his chest as he made for the forest. Trees blocked what little sunlight poured through dense clouds; the air a murky fog that chilled his lungs with each breath. He could taste the sap dripping off tree bark on the tip of his tongue—his mind clinging to the edge of sanity as he moved.

Twigs snapped beneath his boots, leaves cracked with the weight of his body, but Logan couldn't think about moving silently. Someone was getting hurt. He could practically smell their fear. The heady coagulated tang of blood spilled over the forest floor.

"Hello?" he called out, emerging through the thicket of branches.

A small clearing gave way to what little light remained in the afternoon. Petrichor lingered in the pockets of clear air, familiar enough to set his earlier anxieties aside. Fall in Canada shepherded rain forward with a heavy hand.

He knew the woods would be soaked come morning. Any signs of life lost to the pelting drops of rain that dragged hail right alongside it.

His feet stopped at the edge of freshly packed dirt, a shovel tossed to the side with a dent in the metal large enough to resemble the size of a skull. Sucking in air, the hair rose on the back of his neck when the shriek sounded again. Pained. Anguished. As if someone was fighting to claw their way to the surface.

"Fuck," he gasped, dropping to one knee—fingers burrowing in the moist soil and heaving it over to the side. "I'm here. I've got ya!"

Another muffled cry filtered through the layers of dirt as he dug with heaving breaths. Sweat prickled along his forehead, dripping down his temple. The brine of salt dripping onto the already muddy area. What hope he could grasp onto began to slip through his fingers; now dragged beneath the surface of an already haunted forest.

Logan stumbled back when a hand shot through the dirt, piercing the ground by his foot. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide as an arm appeared, fingers grasping for leverage in the loose topsoil. He'd never experienced terror before. True fear that lingered in the bottom of his chest, echoing a solemn tune he wanted to rip from his flesh. But the sight of someone clinging to life filled his lungs with water.

You could feel it. The dirt and stones that packed themselves beneath your nails, slicing open what remained of the once pretty nail bed. It happened later this time. Took longer than you expected. Crimson blood mixed with the black soil as you vomited what stuffed itself into your lungs; the impacted earth was too heavy for your body to hold onto and thus the result remained the same.

Somehow it felt worse each time.

A cry of agony pierced the brume—splitting open the silence that could no longer exist. And with another heave, you managed to free yourself from a shitty dug grave with barely enough dirt to cover.

Sucking in a lungful of air, you collapsed to the ground. Body nude and streaked with mud. You couldn't tell which parts of you were sliced open this time around, could barely make out the color of the trees through the thick layer of fog. But the leather brown boots two feet away caught your attention instantly.

With a whimper, you lifted your head—eyes latched onto the broad man above you who looked ready to lose his breakfast, or join you on the ground. Perhaps both with the way his paled face stilled at the sight of you.

Of course, the time it took to return would fuck up your plans for solitude. Of course, you would have company at the worst possible moment.

This part was never easy.

"Hi," you meekly rasped, voice entirely gone from how many times you screamed.

Harrowing silence became the space that hung between your body and his. You curled your toes to force the blood back down through your veins. Hands holding an unsteady shake that would take a good hour to dissipate. You began to notice the color of his flannel—a deep umber with lines of brown. The scent of cedar permeating the air; sap a thick sweetness you could practically taste in the back of your throat.

Senses took a few moments to return back to their original vigor. Yet you couldn't allow yourself to slip into the you from twelve hours ago.

Not when the man still watched you, eyes overflowing with dread. You wondered if he was real. Would he flinch if you swung a fist at his shin? Or was your dilapidated mind conjuring him in a hallucinatory haze you'd eventually break free from.

Pushing yourself up on trembling limbs, you managed to contort your half paralyzed body into a sitting position. The feeling would return to your numb core; the steady drip of life slowly seeping back into your veins the longer you remained still.

Movement seemed to puncture a hole in his stupefied mind—yanking him back to reality. He dropped to one knee with a heavy exhale. "Who the fuck did this to you?"

You wanted to laugh. You nearly did laugh.

How were you meant to tell this complete stranger that you in fact...did this to yourself?

"Are you cold?" he asked as if you still held the capability to speak.

When it became clear you had no intention of offering him any sort of explanation, he promptly cussed under his breath. Hands stripping off the brown leather jacket that hung over his clearly muscled form. You tried to shake your head, hoping he'd get the hint and simply leave you alone.

The cold didn't harm your already frozen skin. Not when a rush of blood coursed through you—pumping an unhealthy amount of adrenaline back to your now racing heart.

He draped the heavy fabric over you anyways, securing it to cover what skin he could. His eyes fixed on the side of your face. What a goddamn gentleman. Hilarity of this entire situation flickered brightly in your mind, forcing a jolt through your body that had him rearing back a few inches.

He must not be used to the sight of someone coming back from the dead.

No one would be. Unless they understood your current predicament.

"Do you have someone I can call?"

Again...silence became all that lingered in your mirrored confusion. You pleasantly discovered that you liked the sound of his voice. He felt his stomach churn with the eggs he scarfed down an hour and a half ago. Oh what a hapless pair you made. Two strangers bound in this tight knit bond of befuddlement.

"Can you speak?" He pushed for you to give him something.

You nodded, trailing the curve of his jaw with your gaze. If you had to guess his profession, you'd pick lumberjack. That made the most sense as to why he found himself standing at the foot of your grave trying to help you escape it.

Although you supposed he might have just been on a stroll through the woods; seeking time to himself. An escape from the busy world above ground. You peered into his clouded hazel eyes - plucking what you could from her expressions alone. This was a man who didn't seem drastically horrified by the sight of you coming back to life. Rather lost in murky thoughts of how.

Again the aforementioned question you loathed answering left his plush lips.

"Who did this to you?"

Sighing, you felt the blood begin to rush to your legs, a tingle of awareness entering your system. You were coming back from the state of rigor mortis. Which meant that stick around here would no longer be an option. As much as you were inclined to entertain the idea of getting to know him, the reality was far too bleak for him to accept.

He was a mere human, you were something else. It would never work.

“What’s your name?”

Agitation clearly lined his nerves the longer he crouched beside you. He’d never receive the knowledge he wanted, never get to the bottom of this otherwise grueling mystery. The longer you stayed, the harder it would be to leave. Putting him out of his misery now was the only option you had.

The only one that might guarantee his safety.

“Please. Let me help you.” His sincerity struck your heart, causing it to twist until the jagged edge of pain spread through your entire body.

They always sounded this way.

Hopeful. Intrigued.

Too many people, too many broken souls.

The path of your existence was littered with unsalvageable pieces of those you allowed to wander into your life. You refused to say goodbye to someone who clutched your love too tightly. Who never understood what this meant—the horrid depth of what you were forced to endure. You’d never be able to find freedom in love, never find hope that things might one day be different.

Eventually your curse would kill them in the end. And you—the sole survivor—would be left to pick up the fragmented shards of your armored walls.

With a pained groan you stumbled to your feet—legs shaking like a fucking fawn right after birth. He shot up beside you, hands outstretched in case you collapsed. But after so many years, you’d grown used to the sensations of a body that fought against you. The sight of him made you grin; a man so large, so imposing, somehow looked small compared to your mangled body.

Oh, how you’d remember him.

Tucking his kindness into the depths of your heart—fondly looking at it more often than you’d ever admit.

Dragging the leather jacket off your shoulders—much to his dismay—you tucked it back into his grasp. For a brief moment, you traced the shape of his eyes with your gaze. Solidifying the hazel in your mind, the hints of dark umber speckled through the iris. Eyes that would haunt you for years to come.

You wanted to ask what caused him such anguish—what had he been through—to hold an unfathomable amount of grief in eyes so tender.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the unbearable scratch in your throat dissipating the longer you were alive.

“Wait–”

With surprising quickness, you walked past him, trembling with each step. Your stomach gnawed at your insides—the vacant sensation in your body determined your next course of action. Where you were heading with no need for direction.

This wasn’t unusual. Hours spent in the ground was bound to force your body to find its sustenance one way or another. Even if you weren’t technically alive. The adrenaline would wane, leaving you rattled—in a panic about the way your soul plunged into an infinite expanse of darkness. A place with no path.

Over the decades you managed to get a handle on your body;s tells. The routine it formulated to deal with the ancient magic coursing through your veins. Sparks of a past self never to be touched again; no matter how much you bargained.

Heavy footsteps trailed after you, entirely unaware that silence wasn’t his forte. He still clutched the jacket aimlessly, unaware that the temperature dropped rapidly the longer he remained outside. You’d grown used to the behaviors of men who found you. Their incessant need to follow, to see if they could get away with what they wanted.

The same fucking song and dance; a battle you learned to evade swiftly and without mercy.

You stuck to the carved pathway created by your own footsteps trekking the same ground over the span of many years. Those who worked this deep in the forest rarely stuck around to find out who dared to live this far away from humanity. Many assumed an old psychotic woman, man, or spirit, resided in the run-down cabin.

Others whispered of a witch cursed to roam in darkness for all eternity.

Though both were merely myths spread by bored townsfolk.

You often wondered what they would do if they found out that neither strayed far from the actual truth.

Each year that came and went people dared themselves to check—to see for themselves if the stories held a bit of authenticity to them. They more often than not, left scared out of their wits at the sight of a naked woman trailing dirt in across the threshold of an archaic home.

Your shadow persisted in his personal mission—five feet away, lumbering through the silent forest like a bear with no real direction. Scaring him off should have been your first priority. You knew the longer you sanctioned this behavior the harder it’d be to get him to fuck off.

Although you couldn’t deny the instantaneous attachment you felt for a man with such a tortured soul.

Perhaps some part of yourself could see the fragments that went missing harbored in his heart.

Like a fool, you continued on the familiar trail—giving yet another aimless person leeway in your life. Regret hung heavy in your heart—a promise of what would inevitably come to pass screaming in the icy air.

Your breath forms a cloud with each puff; the exertion far too much for your freshly revived body to handle. Later when you were adjusted once more, the remorse would return within each stiff joint that pleaded for an ounce of rest. Whether you wanted to partake in the act never remained up to you—rather an inescapable future that awaited you with open arms.

The cabin stood on the remnants of an old cemetery. Bits of cracked stones that once housed names were scattered around the front. Moss clung to walls built of worn in bricks that had seen better days. You liked each part of your home. The haunting beauty that kept others out, gave you the solace you needed on days like this. Here you could pretend you were a normal person, not someone stuck with the scars of wounds that never remained.

Of pain you held no proof of.

The path was lined with plants of varying species. None of them should have survived the weather in Canada, yet like you they persisted.

Just as fucking stubborn and determined to remain alive.

Kicking a loose stone over, you reached for the rusting iron key lodged into damp dirt. The man stopped speaking long before he followed you here. Probably coming to the same conclusion they all did. You were not going to listen to a single thing that came out of his mouth.

You had to hand it to him. He knew where he stood in a situation like this—given your relatively calm exterior.

The door creaked with a weathered groan as you pushed it open. A bag of grave dirt hung on a nail in the wall to your left, an old shovel stood propped against the entryway, and a trail of dried herbs were suspended from the ceiling. You inhaled the scent of home with a grin; finally at ease within the place you knew well. A line of hooks held blankets for this very situation—heavy wool lined coats beside them.

Instead of grabbing one, you reached for what was still tucked in the pocket. The thud of his boots against the front step echoed loud in your ear. That seemed to be all you needed to hear the warning bells signal in the back of your mind. Allowing him to shadow you had been fun, but the truth still glared in your direction.

You didn’t know this man—you never would.

Better safe than sorry.

Spinning your heel, you jammed the silver dagger against his throat, forcing him to stumble back. His hands clutched at your wrists, eyes wide with the shock of what just happened. You didn’t want to admit that a small part of you liked seeing him this way. Yet no fear could be found in the darkened hazel. Merely a hint of concern—pity.

That only served to piss you off. He dared to follow you home, thinking he could enter your house without permission. In such a case as this you faced him with the fire that fueled your inhumane rage. The match struck against your heart, igniting sparks that existed long before he was ever born.

“You’re not welcome here,” you spit, eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a snarl.

He held every right to look at you as if you were a feral animal he accidentally cornered. You knew you resembled one. Right down to your hackles being raised—bloodlust burning in your glare. If he wasn’t careful, he would wind up with a split open throat and you’d have one hell of a mess to clean.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he murmured.

“You followed me home.”

Swallowing thickly, Logan felt an old familiar ache rise in his chest at the sight of you. He’d been where you stood once. Desperate to be left alone; angry at a world who abandoned him. The thought of you believing the worst in him left bile climbing the back of his throat, shame burning hot in his stomach.

“Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You grinned yet a dullness remained at the center of your eyes. “I’m alive. You can go.”

“You crawled out of a grave,” he growled.

Only to be met with one of your own. “No shit.”

“You live alone.” The knife pressed down against his skin, red welling to the surface in an instant. “Who put you there?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

You held no reservations against cutting him open. You’d done it before and would do it again in a heartbeat. Logan could see that clear as day. This wasn’t about him attempting to help. He’d surpassed that half a mile ago when you began to walk it off like you knew what was happening. And perhaps he was stupid to keep standing there in a pathetic attempt to tame you.

But he needed to know what happened.

Simply for the sake of his own sanity.

“I won’t hurt you bub,” he echoed, releasing your wrists with a soft exhale. “That’s not why I came.”

The anger dulled like the blade of your knife at the sound of his voice. Putting your faith in someone to uphold their words wasn’t something you excelled at. In fact, you found it was easier to bite first before you even bothered to bark at them. A feral animal who held no sense of safety—who thrived in bitter chaos and would until the very end.

But for the first time…you found yourself unable to fight against someone who stood before you like a mirror from a past life. The anguish in his eyes resembled your own. A fractured window that spilled light along the darkness, even if it didn’t belong. Even if you were born to exist in the vacant nothingness they put you in.

“Help me out here,” he murmured.

Before you could silence it, you laughed. Short and stunted and still layered in the gritty rasp from earlier.

“Fuck you.”

He sighed, stepping forward—his throat opening even further. You expected him to flinch, cuss loud enough to scare the varying corvid that often perched in the trees, but all that remained was that damn sincerity. The echo of a man who you somehow understood exactly what ran through your mind even before you let him in on the secret.

Logan kept his eyes locked on yours, even when his body screamed for something else. He wasn’t a stranger to having a blade to his throat, nor to violence in general. But even with the intent of killing him clear in your gaze, he knew something else stirred beneath the surface of your mind. He latched onto the quick pace of your heart, clamoring for a deeper look behind the walls of your impenetrable armor.

“I know what it’s like.” Your eyes went wide for a brief second before you resumed your previous stance. That remained enough for Logan to feel he touched on exactly the right thing.

“You don’t know anything.”

“Believe me bub,” he retorted, lips curling into a half-hearted grin. “I know what not dying feels like. Even if you want to.”

The breath was punched from your lungs, body going still as the waves of disbelief washed over you. He grasped your wrist gently, prying the knife from his throat, and you watched his skin stitch itself back together. The only remnants of your violent act was left in a stain of red he promptly wiped off.

You had half a mind to try again. Test the proof he so blatantly showed you without an ounce of shame. He seemed to catch onto your interest quicker than you expected—his palm spreading wide beneath yours and hand forcing the blade along his skin. A gasp fell past your lips at the sight of his body healing rapidly—the cut nonexistent within seconds.

Logan felt pride pierce his chest. Unfamiliar and yet entirely welcome.

“How…”

“I’ll explain it bub,” he uttered, drawing your attention back to him. “If you tell me the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

He huffed, moving close enough to feel the warmth emanate from your bare skin. “I’m pretty good at spottin’ bullshit. Someone put you in that grave.”

“Yes.” Blindly you reached for a jacket behind you, slipping it on as his eyes took in the small bits of your home he could see. “I did.”

His head snapped back to you, lips set in a firm line. “What do you mean you did?”

“It’s a long story.” You waved your hand as you tied the jacket’s belt around your waist.

“I got enough time to hear it.”

Turning back towards the entryway of your home, you didn’t bother to bite back the smile that bloomed across your face. Somewhere in the back of your mind the voices of years past shrieked in horror at the choices made in the past hour.

How could you drag another soul into the darkness? Torture them with the duress of your life—of what you were forced to endure. Was it merely to appease the growing ache of loneliness that gnawed at your heart. A constant hunger you could never satiate.

He didn’t deserve what came next.

No one did.

But you were a selfish person who had tolerated far too much—who gave up every piece of your heart to keep others safe. For years you claimed you were better off alone. Only for the sight of his ability to fracture that part of yourself in two, burying it in a shallow grave with the hopes of no resurrection.

One day you’d come to regret your choice. You always did.

Tonight however you would give yourself this. Time spent in the company of another, even if it might end in a tragic disaster.

“Would you like some dinner?” you asked over your shoulder, too afraid of what his response might be.

His lips pulled into a grin as he crossed the threshold of your home—placing his jacket on the now vacant hook. “I’d love some.”

note: i handwrote a giant portion of this & proceeded to type it on my brother's laptop. so if there's mistakes forgive that. i don't have a laptop rn and i'm working with literal scraps.

[muffinsin]

hi!!! I have a request for you!!! could we get some general headcanons for how the sisters adjust to having a human s/o? like what are some quirks they've had to get used to/what do they find odd about the things humans do now that they live with one!

thank you!!

Hi, hon! :) Awhh, absolutely! :)

Let’s get into it🙌🥳

Masterlists

Bela

Out of all the three sisters, Bela is the most understanding of you and human nature

She’s wiser than most, using her immortality and spare time to educate herself on many matters that pick her interest

One of them, the human body

Where her sisters struggle, she often excels, or at the very least performs slightly better

She has more information on humans than them, and especially cares to learn more about them

She knows how to treat the staff and even picks up a little regarding their wants and needs

She knows humans are- naturally- more fragile

There’s so many things to harm them, blades and weapons, catastrophes and fire, even the cold, too

They prove easy to bruise, their poor little bones breaking as easily as toothpicks under her touch

She would never want this to be your fate, though

In her time, she has learned to adapt, thankfully long before even meeting you

Out of her sisters, she’s best at controlling her strength, which she proves on a daily

She’s especially careful around you

You know, Bela would never want to harm you, and she never would

She also has the biggest knowledge on humans out of her sisters, ranging not only from their fragile nature, but their appetites, too

That being said, she isn’t always keeping it in mind

After all, it’s been so long, decades of only being with her sisters and mother

Decades of sharing their prey, corpses and animals, the meat often and usually raw, even

As such, it’s up to you to keep an eye out occasionally, as she will sometimes mindlessly offer you a glass of blood or blood wine or a plate of raw meat

She doesn’t mean anything bad by it, and of course would never want you to eat or drink it

That doesn’t mean she isn’t forgetful, too used to being around her sisters and mother only

If you want to prevent eating any of that and spending a good hour puking it back up, you should check the food and drinks she offers you and ask her what it is

Still, she will always hold you and apologise with a flushed face when she forgets about your diet

This was especially a problem in the beginning, but as time goes on, Bela becomes better at reminding herself of your limits when feeding you

She keeps a notebook of your favorite foods, often even seeing to it that you get those

Sometimes, she even agrees to try some

More importantly, she keeps a list of all food humans should not be eating, as well as notes on any allergies you might have and such

As such, food is not a problem in time

What truly caught Bela off guard, especially at the start, is your body temperature, though

While her own is nearly constantly cold, as is her skin, it came as a surprise when she first felt your touch

Of course, she realistically knows that others have warm bodies. Even Alcina’s body and touch is significantly warmer than Bela, Cassandra and Daniela’s

It still surprised her, though

As such, the first time you hold her hand she jumps and swarms wildly, completely caught off guard

The rest of the day you laid on top of her, letting her curl against you and use you as a personal heater

This, she still likes to do, especially in winter

She hates that she can’t quite produce warmth without help

You’re more than happy to keep her warm

Cassandra

In a way, humans are a lesser life form to her

Slower, destructive, treacherous, hardly durable

They’re prey

And she’s a predator

They’re playthings

A game to her, her pets kept in the basement, awaiting her arrival with dread

They make good puppets to test out her tools, good little things she can take her frustrations out on

As such, she usually doesn’t bother studying them too closely, nor even interacting with them

Medically speaking though, Cassandra knows plenty of humans

She is a skilled woman, after all

And as she loves to torture and explore one’s limits, she does have a vast knowledge of humans

Only medically speaking, though

Still, it comes in useful

Most fatal wounds, Cassandra can stitch for you

She knows your body well, knows its limits and how to fix your fatal wounds should you ever get in the situation of being wounded like this

A smaller wound, though…?

Well, she knows how to treat cuts

Bruises, not so much

She’s never bothered learning about that, butchering up her victims to the limit and stitching them back together, usually

Thankfully, due to this knowledge of hers, she’s not too surprised about how very easy it is for you to get hurt

That doesn’t mean she wasn’t surprised by parts of it, though

Such as how easy you are to bruise

Often, she needs to adjust her own strength, fearing she might hurt you

Her hands aren’t made for gentleness, she’s sure…

As such, you often experience feather light touches from her, too scared any firmness could mean a broken limb

You reassure her, it’s okay

She can’t quite allow herself to be too comfortable

She would never want to hurt you, despite her sadistic nature

Only in time does she find the balance to it, holding you tight but never too tight, never too light

Alas, this was only a part of what surprised her

No, her biggest shock comes in the form of your scent

Of course, the huntress is familiar with the scent of human

Maidens, or villagers or poor, lost little humans straying and getting lost in the forest, that is

Not the scent of you at random times throughout the day

At least once a day you find yourself pinned down upon entering her room, like an intruder at her territory

She doesn’t understand

Humans adapt new scents so very quickly, sadly

As such, you make it a point to build up a routine of sorts

The same shampoo and body wash. Either never using perfume, or always the exact same one

When you hug someone aside from Cassandra, you’re certain you will be tackled again

She feels bad for it, too

And still, relying on her somewhat feral instincts is in her nature

At least, in time, both of you can adapt to this

You even find it somewhat endearing, your girlfriend pouncing like a wolf when you come too close and are too out of sight for her to set her eyes on you

If only you didn’t bruise so easily, you’d surely find it more endearing

And lastly, your habits and limits

While being better at caring for a human than Daniela, Cassandra often forgets that you aren’t quite like her

As such, she’ll occasionally ask for you to bite at her neck, or bite at yours a tad too hard and cause bleeding that she’s fast to tend to

Usually with an adorably embarrassed facade, too

Something she often likes to forget are your physical limits

She likes to play with you, either chasing you or going hunting with you

During this, she forgets your stamina is nothing compared to hers

While she can play for hours, run and swarm excitedly, your limit is reached far faster

You’re often doubled over, fed cups of water by her after having been chased by her for hours

You don’t mind, though

She always takes excellent care of you after, keeping you hydrated and allowing you a seat by the warm and comfortable spot by the fireplace at her room

Daniela

With Daniela, you move fast

Yours hers quickly, as she is yours

You know, there have been many human lovers in the past, and you know of what became of them

Alas, Daniela holds no more thoughts of them

You’re her everything

Her soulmate

She’s sure of it

Despite this, she doesn’t know all that much about humans

And, if you knew how many of her past lovers died, you’d likely be rather concerned

Daniela’s biggest problem is that she doesn’t quite know a lot about humans

In the past, lovers have often been forced to consume raw meat and blood, just like here

And you’re hardly any different, having been given meat and blood and wine, too

Thankfully, she listens when you tell her: humans can’t eat those things

That being said, she doesn’t understand

Being surrounded by her family, she doesn’t quite understand why you can’t eat what she eats

After all, she can eat what you eat, too, even if she doesn’t always like it

Still, she wants you to be safe, and she trusts you

She figures, you’ll know what to consume instead

To make up for her lack of knowledge, she likes to surprise you with your favorite foods sometimes, even sneaking a bite when she thinks you aren’t looking

Secondly, one of Daniela’s biggest problems is her strength and your vulnerability

She knows, humans are so very sensitive

Poor little humans, bruising and bleeding and breaking far too fast

Poor little Daniela, unable to control her strength properly at times

In the past, she’s often unintentionally hurt her lovers, breaking hands and fingers when holding them in hers, cutting up limbs and tearing skin with her claw-like nails

And poor Daniela always cried so terribly when it happened

She would never want to hurt you

Would never want to hurt her lovers

She wears her gloves around you nearly all the time, worried her sharp nails might nip your sensitive skin

Additional to that, she’s incredibly worried about harming you by misusing her strength

Your heart breaks as you notice this

She’s so clearly depraved and in need of affection, yet starves herself of it by worrying

As such, you hold her hand gently instead, squeeze and kiss it because you know she’s too scared to squeeze your hand back

You cuddle and and hold her gently, kiss her and let her cuddle up to you

In time, eventually, she grows a little more confident

Testing out and practicing the use of her strenght on random maidens and prisoners,-

she doesn’t dare practice on you, and her sisters and mother just don’t do, being as enduring as her

- Daniela eventually figures it out

While still occasionally worried about her strength, especially when she feels excited, she gets to hold you normally, now

And lastly, the other thing surprising her plenty

That being your weakened senses

Often, you’ll be cuddling when she shoots up

Her golden eyes wide, her head turning

If she was a cat, you’re sure her ears would be twitching and pointing up, listening

You don’t hear a thing

At other times you find her with her head hidden against your stomach, trying to escape whatever smell currently annoys her

Again, you don’t smell a thing

You don’t mind, though

In fact, it makes you giggle more often than not

That is, when she isn’t jumping up and clawing at the bed when she suddenly hears a noise at night, keeping both of you up

[daistea]

I love ur mithrun stuff sm can I request him and his s/o celebrating their 100th anniversary 😭 (for some reason I really like that scenario with long living/immortal characters)

Ya!!

gn reader

words: 1,296

╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲

876,581 hours, 16 minutes, 48 seconds. More or less.

“You don’t have to do the math,” Mithrun spoke into your hair. His voice wasn’t soft, it was rarely soft, but it was quiet enough to only reach your ears. His arms snaked around your waist and his fingers tangled together in front of you. Without a second thought of what others might think, you rested your hands on top of his.

You didn’t have to do the math, he was right. But you’d heard that number somewhere. Something about 100 years averaging around 800,000 plus hours. That was a lot of hours. A lot of minutes. So many seconds, countless.

And Mithrun had decided to spend them all with you. As comfortable as you were with each other, that fact still made your heart pleasantly clench.

“I know,” you murmured. He only pressed his nose deeper into your hair, acknowledging your response.

Nearby, your friends and family were getting loud. Their voices carried through the building and mingled with the crowd. Fleki was trying to convince Pattadol to smoke something with her. Pattadol was lecturing Fleki in return. New friends that you’d met through the years laughed and chatted, but you and Mithrun stayed in your corner. Odd, because it was your party.

“Let’s go,” he said under his breath. His arms tightened around you.

You couldn’t help but make a face, “We’ve only been here fifteen minutes. It’s our party, we can’t just leave.”

You felt Mithrun’s chest rise and fall against your back as he sighed. “I told Pattadol we didn’t want this. It’s really not our usual way of celebrating.”

True enough. Your anniversaries were usually laid-back affairs, but Pattadol’s excuse for throwing a party was that this year was specific. It was special. One hundred.

Mithrun rested his chin on your shoulder. You didn’t need to look at him to know what face he was making. Your husband wasn’t one for parties, and you both had attempted to plead your cases against the celebration. Yet, one hundred years of marriage proved that Pattadol was right. It was special.

But nearby, Otta was shamelessly flirting with a half-foot girl she’d brought as her plus one. Lycion and Fleki were telling bad jokes and laughing too loud. Cithis had made a tall-man get on his hands and knees and be her footstool. Pattadol was on the brink of a panic attack as she tried to contain the crowd and throw the perfect occasion.

“You’re right,” you said, “let’s get out of here.”

Mithrun dipped his head toward your neck and pressed his lips against your skin. Your breath caught in your throat and, without another thought, you tilted your head to give him better access. He always liked it when you offered yourself, bared it all to him like land for claiming.

“Get a room!” Flamela yelled from where she sat at a nearby table. (Why had she been invited anyway?)

“If you insist,” Mithrun responded loud enough for her to hear. His tone wasn’t particularly excited, but his lips betrayed him. He pressed his mouth to your neck one last time, a final act of defiance against Flamela’s disgust.

“Come on,” you huffed as you pulled yourself from his grip. His brow furrowed ever so slightly at the new distance between your bodies, but you remedied his displeasure by taking his hand and leading him toward the exit. A quick glance at Pattadol confirmed that she was far too busy trying to wrench whatever Fleki was smoking out of her hands to notice.

Sweet escape. The moment you and your husband stepped outside, the cool night air of Melini greeted you. Mithrun exhaled and closed his good eye as if reveling in the sudden quiet.

“Our spot?” You asked.

He nodded.

A hundred years of marriage meant many things. It meant comfort, a home in each other, a connection that couldn’t be severed. It also meant that you and Mithrun often nearly read each other’s minds. He noted the looks on your face and knew precisely what they meant. Words sometimes failed but actions succeeded.

With no further discussion upon the matter, you and Mithrun walked hand in hand to your spot.

It was a grassy hill that overlooked Melini, and it was a bit of a hike. Both of you were still relatively young for elves, but over time you’d noticed a lack of willingness in your knees and back. Trudging up the hill had become more of a pain, but the view and privacy was worth it.

As you started, Mithrun turned himself to face you. He wrapped an arm around your waist— two thoughts entered your mind: he was either going to kiss you, or teleport you.

The rush of magic in your veins told you that it was the latter. The experience of being teleported had gotten more bearable through the years, only lasting half a second and not giving you nausea anymore, but the principle of the matter remained.

Yet, the view of Melini distracted you. The prickle of magic dissipated, and Mithrun kept his arm around your waist. His other hand brushed through your hair, tucking the strands behind your ear. You scanned the growing blanket of the city beneath you. Melini was all golden lamp light and old fashioned architecture. Every time you saw it from that angle, you couldn’t help but think of your short-lived friends who’d created your home.

“Usually I would snap at you for doing that,” you began to say, but the moment you looked at Mithrun, you found his gaze already glued to you. He didn’t care about the Melini landscape. How could he look at anything but you?

“You would,” he agreed, “but you’re not.”

Your heart skipped. “I’m in a good mood.”

“Why is that?” Mithrun’s long, cold fingers gently pulled out of your hair and found their home on your jawline, tracing lines across your skin, to your chin, down the delicate bones of your neck. He looked at you with calm appreciation, like a jeweler would admire and inspect a diamond. He drank in the sight of your face as if he wouldn’t see it again.

Those subtle, lingering gazes always made your heart flip. Somehow, you’d gotten through a hundred years of them without going into cardiac arrest.

“I don’t know,” you answered lightly, “I guess I just like you.”

“I would hope so.”

“Do you like me?”

“I married you, didn’t I?” His lips flickered up into a barely-there smile. “Do you recall when we first got married, and you kept asking me ‘are you sure you love me?’ as if I hadn’t just made the decision to exponentially improve my life.”

You recalled. Half of the time, you were only joking, because Mithrun made it clear, often, that he’d never been more sure about anything.

“I’ve improved your life, huh?” You asked, “Like a nice kitchen utensil or a good broom?”

Mithrun lifted your chin, “Not just a good broom. The best broom known to man.”

“Despite your words, you still manage to charm me. I wonder why that is.”

His fingers were still under your chin, but he began to lean in. You met him halfway, and your lips pressed together. You and Mithrun had rough kisses, with tongue and teeth and grit. You had soft kisses. Lazy kisses. Casual kisses.

This particular kiss felt like it held more, like Mithrun was trying to tell you something. It was heavy with unspoken emotion. His other hand left your waist and went to your cheek, and he held your face, cradling you, as if you were the most important person in the world.

And to Mithrun, that was exactly who you were.

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[quillsinkwell]

do you ever think about how Michael probably hated being compared to his father, yet in both Watsonian and Doylist terms, that's all he ever was

like in watsonian ways, all the animatronics targeted him and attacked him because he looked so similar to his father that they were the same people to the children.

and in doylist ways, the only thing that defined him was his quest to defeat his father.

like, what in canon has clued us in about Mike's personality? That has nothing to do with his family or animatronics? it's that he likes a show called the immortal and the restless.

that's it.

everything else we have given him in fanon.

he spent his whole life trying to deal with his father to prove he wasn't him, yet he's entirely defined by his father.

and without him, he's barely a character.

it adds a sort of horror to his death in pizza sim. like when he attempted to lay his father to rest permanently, the universe laid him as well, because it had no purpose for him outside of his father.

it also kinda makes glammike a little fucked up if you think about it this way, even if he either moved on or his spirit lingered in the pizzeria. his father rose again and the universe either dragged him out of the afterlife or kept him in the basement because what else is he if not his father's watcher

do you ever think about that despite his best efforts to not be his father, he's entirely defined by the man

do you ever think about that

or are you normal.

[devoutekuna]

req - jjk characters (gojo lol) saying 'i know, baby, i know' when babying/comforting yn. ervyabebwyrogbrw

please feel no rush/pressure for this and look after yourself :)

Comforting you

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

A/N: hope you like it :) & sorry for the wait

Gojo-

He had just been freed from the prison realm and came running back to his wife after the 19 days spent apart, you were over exaggerating that it felt like an eternity, he had you sleeping on his side of the bed to catch any feeling of him or wearing more of his clothes, thats how much he had you wrapped around his finger. Hand caressing your back as you laid your head in his shoulder, collecting his well missed scent. "It felt like an eternity without you" clearly you weren't thinking right as that was an over exaggeration.

"I know baby I know" hands caressing your back as you let your feelings get the best of you. He felt like teasing you right now but noticing how comfortable you were right now he opted not to, though it did feel like an eternity as you two were normally always together, he did feel bad for leaving you even if it wasn't in his control. Kissing your hand as the tears kept wetting his shirt, but he couldn't blame you for crying this much.

Gojo (a different version)-

"I'll still eat it!" This man would eat anything, even you, recently you wanted to suprise your husband with his favourite meal when he got home but you fell asleep due to your pregnancy taking all the energy out of you resulting in the food burning. The food wasn't even bad he just had to pick off the burnt bits. Kissing your head as he wasn't in the mood to bend down to kiss you. Hand wrapped around your shoulder as he kept you close, making sure you watched him eat the food.

Sukuna-

We all know that Sukuna isn't the type to comfort nor call call you baby or any pet name, maybe 'wife', but that would be the most you got out of him. "You worry too much" that's all you could hear as you cried your eyes out in his lap, you couldn't even remember the reason you were crying, maybe because you felt mistreated or the fact that he 'almost died' in battle, but he now had you trapped laying on him, head resting on one of his thighs as you cried into to. Kissing his teeth at the feeling of his clothes dampening. "And you think too little of me" it's true that you sometimes did despite being a king of curses and 'immortal'. "Shut up" normally he'd never let that slide if it was someone else, they wouldn't even have the guts to talk to him. "You shut up woman" slapping your back.

Toji-

"You'll ruin your face with those tears" that was the best he could get out, he wasn't used to comforting someone nor getting comforted. Just letting you cry into his shoulder, his arm occasionally tracing circles on your back, he wished that you'd soon exhaust yourself and fall asleep, maybe the reason you were so sad could be forgotten with a nap. Nodding your head in response to statement, tears still flowing out.

Nanami-

The man already knows something was wrong when you weren't texting him about the day or your newborn daughter. And he was only proven right when he heard the sniffles coming from the shared bedroom. He knew he shouldn't have left you alone for a week with your newborn at such a vulnerable state. Caressing your forehead as he placed your head into his lap, he didn't even mind that you were dampening his pants, he was too focused on you right now. "Why are you crying love?" Kissing your forehead. He wanted to calm you down as quickly so that you could tell him what was wrong, fortunately your daughter was asleep which wouldn't become a problem.

I 100% know that if you were crying from being overstressed about your daughter, he'd take the week off so that he can care for her whilst you go on a vacation or something like that.

[naffeclipse]

Would Cryptid!Eclipse ever find another partner again? Decades or hundreds of years after Hunter!Y/N’s passing, would they find another?

Cryptid!Eclipse loves their heart so much that it hurts to even consider moving on from their love, despite how aware they are of their human's mortality. In later years, when you're old and gray and covered in plenty of new scars, you tell Eclipse that you want them to be happy, especially after you've passed on. You don't want to be why they grieve for the rest of their immortality. Eclipse promises at your insistence but it's such a bittersweet vow. They spend every second with you, holding you in their arms, and, one day, they listen to your heart softly stop beating.

Maybe years, decades, centuries after they've laid you to rest under the ground, they'll meet another human; one just as lovely, just as brave, and just as caring as you. They'll discover kindness in the human's eyes. It's not like yours, but it's still beautiful.

You gave them your blessing. They will honor it.