#Braids & War Paint

[corukant]

don’t you know what i am?

lil anakin study while i get my sw stuff off the backburner rn but i am in the process of making sample merch!! pins, keychains, prints, da whole shebang >:)))) we’ll see how they turn out 🫡��

[redbean-nom]

some designs for tusken era boba :)

unarmored/pre krayt hunt armored/post krayt hunt

alternative lighting style and flat colors

[getooine]

My sister asked me to draw Luke with a padawan braid so here it is :D

(Pls forgive the quality, I painted this on my phone)

[un-named-dumbfuckers]

some misc works in progress from my star war brain.

creds to @furious-blueberry0 for the padawan braids redesign that led me to start designing to my padawans braids/chains.

[nympippi]

Which team are you rooting for? 🔵 or 🔴

[theartsalsa]

This because I was watching The Believer and definitely sensed Mayfeld flirting with Cara and Din getting pissed sO hErE yA gO

[seeminglyseph]

I think to cope while I watch I’m gonna look at LARP costumes and put together a Karna fan design specially because I. Like costume design. So. Maybe. I can draw some concept stuff. And just. Practice fandom longevity. Just because it’s over doesn’t mean I have to stop caring. I can care forever.

I can care about Karna for like 30 years if I want to and no one can stop me. Come to Canada and make me. XP

[foone]

A guy gets isekae'd to a fantasy world and it's completely disconnected from our own world, like no shared history.

Except.

Words keep popping up. Someone mentions a "French braid", and he's like "a what braid? Where did you hear about France?" and no one seems to know the etymology. He gets in some minor trouble for assaulting a bard who can't explain where he heard Old Town Road.

The local Duke shows off his new portrait and it's somehow AI generated? And still painted?

He's going slowly mad trying to figure out why there's our-world references leaking into this fantasy world. Is there someone else who is isekai'd here? Is there a portal between here and earth? A wizard who can travel back and forth? What the fuck is going on?

He falls to his knees sobbing in the street when he sees a poster for a play being put on in the Capitol city. It's called "War of the Stars" and it's about Lucas the Sky Walker who is given a holy sword to fight the Black Knight who never removes his armor, and he rescues a beautiful princess from a hidden fortress with the assistance of a wizard mentor, a traveling merchant, and his werewolf companion.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Jacaerys returns to Dragonstone after spending some time in Winterfell. He comes back looking differently…and has learned some new things 😏👅🐱

Request: 9 for Jacee ‘’Where have you learned to do that?’’

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), slight fingering, assumption of cheating

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Months have gone by since the prince Jacaerys left for Winterfell to gain House Stark and the North for the cause of his mother, Queen Rhaenyra. His visit should have been a short one, but Cregan Stark insisted he spent more time in the North. According to his letter, Lord Stark had taken a liking to him and wanted Jacaerys to get a true experience of the North. He said that getting closer to the northmen would help gain their support. 

Life on Dragonstone was lonely without him. A part of yourself was missing. 

You spent time with Baela and Rhaena, helped Lucerys get more confident with his dragon, played with Joffrey when no one would. You were in the early stages of a civil war, the adults didn’t have much time for the young boy. The Queen was grateful for your help. 

A few days ago, after you got back from riding your dragon, a raven came from Winterfell — a new message from Jacaerys saying he should be expected to return in the late afternoon. 

Excitement bubbled in your stomach. 

Rushing to your chamber, you didn't want to greet him smelling of dragon. You shed your riding clothes as a handmaid helped you fill your tub with hot water. She added rose oil to make your skin soft and you made sure to scrub extra hard with the brush. You wanted to look nice for Jacaerys. 

After bathing, you put on a clean dress and asked Baela for help with your hair. She was the best at braiding. 

‘’Do you think he missed me while he was away?’’ 

Behind you, Baela chuckled as she twisted your braids and pinned them. ‘’I wouldn't doubt it, Lady Y/N.’’ 

Hearing a dragon's roar, you jumped and went to your window. The air was gloomy, making it difficult to see through the horizon. You bit your lip, searching for an olive green shape. Although he was a small dragon, Vermax’s red wings were easy to discern in the skies.

You glanced over your shoulder to Baela. ‘’They’re here.’’ 

She finished your hair, ensuring every strand fell perfectly in place, and you descended the stairs with Baela on your tracks. 

As you reached the great hall, you saw the Queen and her children standing near the painted table, accompanied by a hubbub of voices. Lucerys talked animatedly about sword practice while a very excited Joffrey was jumping on his feet, excited to see his big brother. Rhaenyra told them to quiet down and give Jacaerys some air, which made you laugh. 

The sound caught their attention, and Jacaerys' eyes shifted to you. 

He had grown since he left — his shoulders broader, his stature more commanding. His once pin-straight hair now cascaded in soft curls that framed his face perfectly. He looked nothing like a Targaryen anymore. 

‘’Jace,’’ you whispered, a smile lighting up your face as you approached him.

For supper, a small feast was held in his honor. Daemon and Rhaena joined you for the meal, raising their cup to Jacaerys’ return. 

When the hour started to get late, you and Jacaerys retired to your chamber. Half-way there up the stairs, he pulled you into a corner of the staircase and kissed you the way he had been dying to since he got back. You pulled a moan out of him when your teeth glided against his bottom lip, and circled your arms around his neck as his hands were gripping your hips with a strength that was new. 

A voice came from the staircase below — probably one of the servants —, prying the two of you apart. You giggled against Jacaerys' shoulder. 

Once you reached the privacy of your chamber, Jacaerys shut the door and drew you to him again as he kissed along your jaw and down your neck. You moaned under the touch of his mouth, melting against him as your fingers worked on each other’s clothes, pulling at the laces and buckles until they fell off your bodies and onto the floor.

You tried to not step on your dress as you walked back to the bed, then let your shift slip down your shoulders and pool at your feet, leaving you fully naked. 

‘’Gods.’’ 

You blushed as Jacaerys followed down your neck to between your legs, taking his time to admire your body. You had never felt truly desired before him. Only objectified — as were all women in Westeros.  

‘’Do you like what you see, my Prince?’’ you asked, his eyes finding their way back to yours. 

Jacaerys didn’t respond. All he did was gently push you down into the bed. 

You expected him to get on the bed too, but to your surprise, he kneeled at the end of it and pulled you close to the edge. A frown drew between your eyebrows as you looked down. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing on the floor, but the words got caught in your throat as Jacaerys kissed the inside of your thighs. 

It was something new, but not disagreeable.  

Then, he pushed your thighs further apart and pressed the sweetest kiss right over your slit, causing you to squirm. 

‘’Jace, what are you—’’

Your question died on your tongue as he peaked out and flicked your clit, sending a jolting sensation up your core. Jacaerys didn't stop there — he was far from finished with you. He laid his tongue flat and licked a fat strip up your entrance to your clit, stirring a gasp from your lips. 

Your reaction made him smile, encouraging him to pursue. He took a second lick of your cunt, then captured your clit between his lips to suckle at. You let out a mewl of pleasure, your hand traveling down your body to clutch at Jacaerys's soft hair. He alternated between sucking and licking at you, the room filling with obscene noises as your legs tightened on each side of his face, caging him. 

Releasing your clit, Jacaerys slid his tongue between your folds, tasting your arousal on his tongue. You've had his fingers inside you, but never his tongue. Arching your back, you pushed against his face, asking for more. And Jacaerys was happy to give it to you, adding a finger to the mix and pushing deeper inside you.

With your free hand, you clutched the sheets, biting your lips and holding back the moans that wanted to slip out. Had Lucerys’s bedchamber not been so close to yours, you would not have held them back. But y0u didn’t wish to scar his young ears. The poor boy would not be able to look you in the eyes again. 

Jacaerys withdrew his tongue and added a second finger, moving the former back to your clit and making a slobbering mess all over you. 

The rush of pleasure filling your body intensified and you rolled your hips into his face with abandon as your orgasm snapped. Your husband’s name left your lips in a delicate whimper, throwing your head back as he lapped at you, taking everything you were giving him. 

Easing your hands off his hair, you slowed your hips down. 

Jacaerys took the cue and left your pussy alone. 

‘’Where did you learn that?’’ you asked, looking down between your legs as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He rose to his feet and fell back on the bed with you. ‘’The North.’’ 

Your heart sank, and a knot formed in your stomach. Thoughts raced through your mind, thinking he had bedded another woman. You would have never thought that he would commit infidelity.

Seeing the concern etched across your face, Jacaerys reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. ‘’No,’’ he said softly, his eyes searching yours for understanding. ‘’Not…’’ He shook his head. ‘’Never.’’ 

His words washed over you like a wave of relief.

‘’Northmen, when they get drunk, they talk a lot. About their hunts, about their horses, about the things they do to their women in bed. I didn’t know women could be kissed there, but I wanted to try it. Did you…did you enjoy it?’’ 

A smile curled on your lips as you looked at him. His physique may have changed while he was in the North, but inside, he was the same nervous boy you wed in the spring. 

You nodded slowly. ‘’Can you do it again?’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

[israaverse]

Anat the Canaanite goddess of sexual love, war, and hunting. Progenitress of heroes, lady of Palestine.

Info on each sketch below:

Top right: Anat is shown here in a man's war kilt and her hair pulled up, a nod to the Anat statue head found in Gaza. This is after Baal Hadad's 'death', with her cheeks gouged by grief and face painted to resemble a man's beard. This beard imitation combined with her topless clothing and the horned headdress she wears is to evoke a sense of Baal having risen from the dead to claim revenge.

Bottom Right: An exploration of her musculature, with a focus on the markings on her hips and stomach. Drawn from female Canaanite fertility idols that show similar markings with a lot of emphasis on the navel/bellybutton.

Bottom Left: Anat at the feast of Baal's new palace. She wears expensive, imported Egyptian linens. Her hair is braided, eyelids darkened with kohl, and hands darkened with henna.

Center: Anat's fullbody with lots of influence from historical Palestinian dress. She is shown with a vulture because Aqhat, killed at her order, was eaten by vultures and because Anat is often shown with wing imagery.

[mylight-png]

Today, my school's Chabad held a Jewish joy/pride festival right in the middle of campus. They set up a bunch of booths with Jewish activities. There was a booth for braiding challah, making bracelets with our Hebrew names, various Jewish pride stencils to spray paint Chabad shirts. There were tables to pick up shabbat candle kits or wrap teffilin. Jewish music played loudly (but without disturbing nearby classes of course) and people were dancing along to songs like Am Yisrael Chai, I'm a Jew and I'm Proud, Very Narrow Bridge, and other blatantly Jewish songs.

Most of my friends and I couldn't stop smiling. This spot in campus where just last year people were shouting for the destruction of our homeland and our families and us, after nearly a year of being shamed for our Jewish pride and being told we shouldn't be proud, and so much time spent on a campus filled with hate, we were bringing joy back to campus.

I feel like most of my latest posts have been fairly negative. It's hard not to write my heavy heart onto the screen, especially after the murder of Hersh and the other hostages, and just everything going on overall. But this festival reminded me of how much power Jewish joy holds.

If you're feeling upset about the war, I'm with you. Few days go by without tears shed or pain felt. But remember that being Jewish is infinitely more than antisemitism and loss. Being Jewish is joy, and it is pride. We are our ancestors' wildest dreams, we are all miracles, and we cannot forget this for a single moment.

Be joyful in a world filled with sorrow, and bring light with you wherever you go.

[divinegrey]

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ʙʟᴜᴇ / ᴊɪɴx x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sorry for the wait everybody!! been writing other things in the meantime, arcane hasn't been my sole focus. also i have homework and exams. but here's something to appease all of you!! anon, i hope i did this prompt justice!

prompt: I'd like to request a Jinx x Fem! Reader. I like the idea of the reader being a follower of Jinx, as I think the dynamic could be fun. I think it could be cool to explore a follower of Jinx getting to know her and realizing that she's more than just a symbol. She's a multifaceted individual.

words: 1585

warnings: none

It started when she caught you tagging the side of a building. With her face, no less. 

With all the shit going down in Zaun in the wake of Silco’s death and every gang leftover fighting for scraps of power, it was only time before Jinx caught up to the fact that while yes, her face is plastered everywhere on wanted posters, there are about a dozen more spray-painted graffiti tags of her over them. Which was the goal of what you were doing when she dropped down from a building and walked to your side. 

All she did was look at the statuesque version of her face, washed in shades of blue, and say, “My nose doesn’t look like that.” 

And she was right.

Of course, with time, you got better at it. The wanted posters did a mean disservice, honestly. The only thing they got correct were the pink eyes, pink eyes that followed you when you went to your shitty box of an apartment and flopped onto a mattress flattened by years of use. You’d go to sleep, wake up, grab your paint duffel, and head back out again. The nice thing about Zaun is that there’s always an empty spot just waiting to be tagged. 

Somehow, Jinx always finds you. 

“You know people see you as a leader, right?” You say, shaking a can of neon pink, the ball rattling around inside the canister. You glance over your shoulder to where Jinx sits on some pipes connected to the wall, her braids dangling and the gold bullet casings wrapped around reflecting the faint light that falls through the fissures. With a gesture to your own head of hair, dyed an insane hodge-podge of bright colors, blue included, you continue, “Silco’s gone. Whole world down here has turned upside down. But for the first time in a while, we’ve got hope. Cuz of you. Cuz of what you did to those fuckin’ Pilties.” 

“For all the good it did,” Jinx remarks, a dryness to her tone you’ve come to know and love. 

“I’m serious. C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t know the reason why I keep painting you? Why a dozen other taggers I know keep painting you? Why the color blue is nearly sold out in every damn shop?” You kneel down, arcing a curve of pink paint along the grey brick wall, moving quick and precise. Overthinking it makes it worse. “I’m not wearing spray-painted clothes in your colors for nothin, Jinx.” 

She turns, peering at you. In the shadows, her eyes seem to reflect some more, glowing like a cat’s would. “Because y’all have some weird, deluded sense that I’m a leader, or somethin’.” 

“You are. To me. To us.” You point at the other tags in the alleyway, some of them copies of the same mark you’ve seen a dozen times around town. Jinx’s name, sigils of BOOM! and explosives doodled about. You twist and take a seat on the scaffolding, your legs dangling off the side of it. “I didn’t know you when I first started drawing you. I heard what you did, and I thought damn, there’s someone out there willing to actually do something. In a single day, you did more than Silco ever did in years. Sure, we might be going head long into a war, but dying free is better than living under someone else’s boot.” 

Jinx hums. She leaps off the pipes, crossing the gap between you and her with ease, landing on the wooden scaffolding. She straightens up, gazing at the half-finished tag you’re working on. With a hum, she turns to you, and puts something in your hand. Before you have the time to look down and figure out what it is, Jinx says, “Nozzle control. Quality on some of your cans are shit, no offense. Slap that thing on it and you won’t have an issue after that.” 

“Oh, thanks—” 

“Don’t mention it!” Jinx steps off the scaffolding, landing on the ground below with a THUD. “And for the record, I ain’t the kinda person to follow.” 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to convince me!” You call down, grinning from ear to ear. Her brows furrow together, then a small huff, a hint of a smile on her own face. She walks away, off to do… whatever it is that she does when she’s not hanging out with you. 

It isn’t for some time that you see her again. You’d say you’re worried, but you pass through the crowds hearing whispers of Jinx sightings. Every day, it seems another head of blue hair appears, the quiet signs of revolution brewing in the heart of Zaun as the enforcers grow more and more strict, searching anyone and everyone for some hint or clue to find the one that destroyed the Council Chamber in Piltover. You’ll never say a word. 

You walk into your apartment. Work was… work, boring and mind-numbing as it always is. You wonder if you can handle another day of it, but another day will bring another chance of seeing her out there, so you decide not to fly off the handle just yet. You shrug off the soot-stained work clothes, and where you reach for your paint-splattered jacket, it isn’t there. 

Instead, a note. 

Never had anyone believe in me quite like you. The Hound’s statue, midnight. Come and get it. 

With the pink lettering and the doodles of monkeys and bombs scribbled across the page, it doesn’t need to be said just who left this note. You snatch it off the wall, utterly beaming; Gently, you fold it into fourths, tucking it into your shirt. Thank god for the late shift— less waiting!

Any of the weariness you might’ve felt before is gone as you race through the streets, taking any and every shortcut you know. The night is quiet, what with the enforced curfew put up by the Pilties to discourage wandering, not that they’ve done a good job of it. Zaun is Zaun, and the cogs down here will always keep turning, whether Piltover likes it or not. 

When you arrive at the open plaza where the statue erected to Vander, the Hound of the Underground, is, your mouth drops in shock to find the entire plaza covered, every square inch of it, in neon paint. Sigils upon sigils that you have seen time and time again, glowing in the dark. It reaches all the way to the statue, pink highlights in Vander’s hair and blue accents along his metal jacket. 

Sitting on the shoulder of the statue, paint can in one hand and your jacket in the other, is Jinx. 

“Shoulda known you’d be a little early. Good thing, I work fast,” Jinx remarks. She crooks a finger at you to come closer, and you do, taking care to step over the paint lines on the stone. You’re a little in awe of the work she’s done— how has nobody taken notice? Come to think of it, you heard there was a scuffle a few blocks away. The logistics don’t seem to matter anymore the closer you get to her. 

You arrive at the base of the statue. “How’d you even know where I live?” 

“Sweets, there are a lot of things I know about you. And a lotta things you know about me. Things that might drive other people away, but not you,” Jinx says, something like an angel as she looks down upon you from the statue. In the flash of a second and the trace of neon light left in the sky, she’s standing in front of you, your back pressed against the statue. The beam of moonlight that breaks through shines on her, her shimmer-pink eyes locked onto your frame. “You keep sticking to the inside my brain, can’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Could say the same for you,” you reply, a little breathless. “Why’d you do all this? Get my jacket and bring me here?” 

“Cuz you showed me somethin’ important. That people, for whatever crazy reason they got in their head, believe in me,” Jinx says. She holds out your jacket to you, and you take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves and fixing the collar so it stands upright. Her eyes go from bottom to top, taking her sweet time. “I wanna show em what I can do. Give those people with my blue in their hair a reason to keep going. To keep fighting.” 

“You have me. All the way, Jinx,” you say, putting a hand over the front of your jacket, where a pink heart has been painted. “So what do you wanna do? Other than all this?”

“Right now?” Jinx cocks a grin. “I wanna kiss you.” 

What? You blink, wondering if you heard that right, but her taking a step closer to you only confirms that yes, you did hear it right. You swallow the nerves, finding your cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. “And then what?” 

“And then, we show Zaun all the fun we have to offer, and we tell Piltover to shove their Hextech where the sun don’t shine,” Jinx finishes, her hands grabbing the lapels of your jacket and pulling you in. Your lips touch hers, something you never thought would happen, not in your wildest dreams. 

But here you are, arms wrapped around Jinx as she kisses you in the streets of Zaun, the cry of revolution soon to come. 

~~~~~

A/N: thank you for reading!! comments are always appreciated <3

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 9.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, mentions of forceful behaviour towards women, bad family dynamics

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n has no idea what is happening. Currently, there are two elder women around her who undressed her, redressed her and now are pulling her hair and painting her face. And by painting her face, it must be clarified that they don't put pretty delicate makeup on her but that they draw bright red lines on her face, arms, and legs. It looks like full-body war paint, y/n thinks.

Also, y/n is not convinced by the outfit they put her in. It's a two-piece. A loose neck holder top ends only a few inches under her boobs. She's also wearing a floor-length skirt. However, she's not sure if the word 'skirt' fits the piece of clothing around her hips. Two long pieces of fabric are strung in multiple hold chains that sit tightly around her hips. One piece covers her backside, the other the front side.

The squishy part of her tummy and her belly button, as well as her arms and legs, remain uncovered. Y/n usually feels comfortable in her body but it's a bit too revealing. At least for this weather. Also, she's a bit scared her butt cheeks can be seen when she's walking.

She tries not to think about it too hard since the two women working on her hair are wearing similar clothes. It seems as if this is normal for women around here, even if they are a gazillion years old.

The women don't speak to her. Also, they don't speak to each other.

When Katsuki left her alone with them, y/n felt a bit relieved since this was the first female company she had in a long while. But now she just feels awkward.

The women braid her hair and pin it up in a lavish updo which y/n finds very pretty. When they're done, they decorate her hair with golden hairpins and put necklaces around her neck that look similar to Katsuki's. They also want to put earrings on her but y/n doesn't have her ears pierced so they leave them as they are.

Absently, y/n massages her earlobes. She wonders if they'd like to pierce them. They have multiple piercings and also Katsuki wears earrings. She's also positive that she saw men with piercings in their noses and other places in their faces yesterday.

She shudders. It's against the beliefs of her people. Her people believe that one is born by nature's divine design and altering your body by piercinging or tattooing it, is a heavy insult to the great being of things. Some even refuse makeup and say it's not how nature wants them to look. Y/n isn't so strict about that but also wouldn't usually wear any form of paint on her body.

All of this feels so very foreign to y/n. Of course, she knew that Katsuki must live a different way of life but when being with him, that rarely became apparent. This outfit makes it painfully aware of just how different their cultures are.

Somewhen, Katsuki reenters the tent again. He wears a similar body paint as her. He lost the cape and more necklaces than usually hang around his neck. He also wears a bunch of bracelets, he usually doesn't wear.

When the ladies are done with y/n, they present her to him. Y/n gets up from where she is seated and gives him an unsure smile.

His eyes run up and down her figure. He has a stern look on his face the entire time, but he gives her an approving nod. Then he steps closer to her and pulls a delicate chain from his pocket. Carefully, he places it on her head.

Immediately, the women step closer and pin it into place. Y/n touches it carefully. The chain is thin with strings of golden beads. In the middle of her forehead dangles a drop-shaped pendant in a rubyred shade.

Katsuki puts a hand on her shoulder. The weight from his arm grounds her. She didn't notice how shaky her breath was.

The funny thing is, she doesn't even know what this is all about or what will happen when they leave the tent. Based on the outfits and Katsuki's grim expression, it must be something meaningful, something big.

She wonders if he drags her down an aisle. Figuratively speaking, because her people don't marry in churches where you would have to walk down an aisle. Her people marry in lakes and rivers or creeks. They believe all life comes from water and therefore they tie their lives together in it.

Y/n is pretty sure, she would refuse to step in a lake around here. It's just too cold for swimming on the tip of a mountain. She wonders if she'd walk down an aisle with Katsukin if that's what is going to happen today.

Anxiety chews at the sides of her stomach. Truth is, she doesn't want to get married. She wants to be with Katsuki, yes, but again in her culture that doesn't mean one just immediately marries. Y/n thinks that a challenge or crisis must be overcome first before two people can truly know that they belong together. That hasn't happened so far.

She needs more time and she doesn't know if Katsuki or his people are going to give her more time.

The two women leave the tent and Katsuki and y/n remain alone. Katsuki steps a bit closer and carefully puts his hand on the side of her head. He leans closer and puts his forehead against hers. The pendant presses into the skin of y/n's head and it doesn't feel as reassuring as it probably should feel.

Y/n swallows hard.

Katsuki leans back and stares into her eyes. The red of his eyes looks particularly hard today.

Meanwhile, Katsuki can see the fear in y/n's eyes. He wants to explain to her what they will do today but he knows he can't. It makes him angry he's never been taught the common tongue. His mother was traditional like that.

He is racking his brain for any words or sentences he picked up. Unfortunately, most of the things he learned, he picked up in battle or from captives or the women they took. He doubts however that things like "die", "you bastards" or "please, no" will be reassuring to y/n.

"Okay?", he tries, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. He holds out his hand to her. Y/n stares at his hand, then at him. She takes a deep breath. "Okay", she whispers and takes his hand.

*~*~*~*~

Katsuki takes her to the bonfire square. It's where his mother, her ladies-in-waiting, and the rest of his people wait for them.

He's as anxious as y/n looks like. He has to admit that while y/n looks absolutely stunning in his tribe's clothes and paint, she also looks smaller and weaker than ever. He tells himself that things will be alright. That even if his mother doesn't approve, he can take her on as his mate anyway. He's chief, he makes the decisions.

But deep down, every child wants to please their parents. And Katsuki looks up to his mother. She's fierce, she's strong and the only reason he's chief to begin with is only because she stepped down after the plague. Some people blamed her for it even though everybody knows that it's not something a human being can control. Maybe that is why she feels so strongly about Katsuki taking on a good mate that will produce lots of offspring.

Katsuki shudders even though he's not cold. He looks at y/n who is also shivering. He holds her hand a bit tighter. Y/n looks up to him and gives him a small smile.

At least she doesn't despise me and comes along willingly, he thinks.

The past few presentations since the plague have been anything than pretty and joyful. After raids, men brought women from other places. Women that didn't want to be there. It was either impossible to make them look presentable due to them fighting it or the paint on their faces was ruined by the time they stepped in front of Katsuki.

Usually, his men have to present their future mates in front of the chief and he has to decide whether they are acceptable or not. Since he's chief, it's his mother who will do the presentation. In contrast to Katsuki's decision, his mother's is completely representative and meaningless. He's chief after all. And still, he feels like he needs his mother's approval. Maybe part of him is afraid that his people won't respect him or his mate when she doesn't approve of her.

They approach the square. His people are lined up at the side desperate to get a view of the woman Katsuki brings along. His mother and her ladies-in-waiting are sitting at the other end of the square.

Katsuki can feel y/n stiffen at his side. He gives her a glance and can see how her face is pale beneath the red paint on her face. She's not shaking anymore but her muscles are tightened to a point where they will probably ache tomorrow.

He links her arms with his and proudly struts along the square. He tries not to walk too fast so that she doesn't stumble over her feet. He's seen women stumble and fall on their presentation and it was always humiliating for her and the man. Of course worse are the cases where they have to be dragged or carried into the square while crying and loudly protesting.

Quickly, he tries to shut out these thoughts. This is different, y/n's different. She's coming willingly, she's looking more than just presentable, things will be fine.

He steps in front of his mother who looks at him with a hard stare. She doesn't even spare y/n a glance.

„Mother, I present to you the woman I have chosen as my mate.“, he tells her. His voice sounds hard and determined.

His mother sits up more straightly. Her eyes shift from him to y/n. Katsuki doesn't dare to look at y/n. He just hopes she holds eye contact with his mother. His mother, Mistuki, looks y/n up and down.

Then she stands up and walks up to the couple. Gently, Katsuki lets go off y/n's arm and takes a step to the side.

His mother circles y/n while examining the woman infront of her. She lifts y/n's skirt a bit and peers under it. She touches her hair and the necklaces that dangle around her neck.

„She's skinny.“, Mitsuki comments. Katsuki stays silent. His mother stops infront of y/n and looks her up and down again.

„She has no muscle mass whatsoever. Can she even carry a bucket of water from the creek to your tent?“, his mother continues.

„She arrived yesterday. I'm sure she can build up muscles over time.“, Katsuki answers her calmly.

Mitsuki cocks her head to the side.

„Can she? She looks cold. She might also freeze before she even finds her way back to your tent.“, his mother continues.

„I get her warmer clothes.“, Katsuki argues.

His mother gives him a glance.

„Sure, sure. You can. But what if she catches a cold? Is she sustainable enough to survive that? To survive childbirth?“, his mother asks frowning.

Katsuki steps closer again and pushes y/n's top to the side a bit.

„When we met, she had an arrow stuck in her shoulder. Look, it healed quickly and without infection. I'm sure she can heal well after giving birth.“, he explains.

„Struck by an arrow?“, his mother says with a raised eyebrow and Katsuki instantly regrets mentioning it.

„That means she lost a fight? Are we not a tribe of warriors?“, Mitsuki asks sharply.

„It's a wound of a warrior. I've been struck by arrows before. Are you saying I'm not a warrior?“, he bites back.

His mother gives him a long stare before returning to her seat. She leans her head onto her arm and runs a hand over her face. He knows what comes next.

„I don't approve.“, she says and Katsuki's face twists in anger. Whispers run through the crowd.

Before he can answer her, Mitsuki continues.

„Katsuki, you understand you are our leader, yes? You understand that it is necessary that you have plenty and healthy children, yes?“, she points out angrily.

„Of course, mother. I intend to ensure our tribe's survival in any way I can.“, he tells her calmly.

Mitsuki slams her fist down and stands up.

„Then, why are you intending to bond to this frail excuse of a female? Why do you not wait until one of our own is of age?“, his mother says loudly pointing towards a few girls at the age of 10-12 at the side next to her ladies-in-waiting.

„The longer I wait or any man of this tribe waits, the bigger the gap between the generations will get. This poses a threat to our tribe. You know that. It's why we began bringing in women from other places in the first place.“, he argues back angrily.

„Wrong“, his mother says cooly, „We began bringing other women here because so many of us died that even the next generation of women can't ensure the tribe's survival.“

Katsuki grinds his teeth. She's not wrong.

„Do you know what kind of insult this is to these women? That their leader chooses a foreign, weak female like that over them?“, his mother continues and gives y/n a demeaning gesture.

Katsuki starts to see red.

„They're not women, they're children, mother. Do you intend to make one of them my child bride? Isn't that an insult to their mothers who died? Is that all they're worth?“, he yells at her.

He knows that will hit a sore spot. His mother cares deeply for these young girls and grieves the death of their mothers equally as deeply.

Absolute silence engulfs the square. No one dares to even move a finger. His mother gives him a long, cold stare. Then she sits down again.

„You're chief, Katsuki. Do whatever you want, but I'll warn you. Your example will precede this tribe. If you fail to produce an heir, this tribe will not survive under your reign.“, she tells him.

Katsuki is fuming. He wants to yell at her, maybe even throw a knife at her. But people are watching and he has to be careful what he says next. He must strengthen his position as chief even if that means demeaning his own mother.

„You've brought this fate upon us in the first place. Why do you think you have the answer to how we ensure our survival? Didn't you step down because you don't have the answer?“, he says striking to kill.

His mother's face contorts in anger and shame. He doesn't give her a chance to reply. He turns to his people.

„This woman came here by her own free will. She's proven herself a great healer and skilled hunter to me. You all feasted on her success at yesterday's bonfire. Therefore, I approve her of being worthy as my mate.“, he declares to them.

Without waiting for a reaction from his people or his mother, he turns around grabbing y/n's arm and he leaves the square with his head held high.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n stumbles after Katsuki. Her head spins. The last few minutes have been nothing but bizarre to her. Obviously, she didn't understand a single thing that's been said but y/n isn't stupid. She quickly picked up on the atmosphere of the conversation. Which was not good.

Even before Katsuki and the women started yelling at each other, y/n knew that the conversation was not going well. It's easy to spot when Katsuki gets angry. Really angry, not the normal state of angry he always seems to be in.

Katsuki walks fast and y/n has trouble keeping up with him. He drags her all the way back to his tent. Only when they're inside, does Katsuki let go of her. He doesn't say a word.

He walks over to the table and pushes it over with a loud, angry yell. Y/n flinches at the action.

Katsuki kicks a bucket filled with weapons to the other side of the room and lets out a string of angry words that y/n guesses are insults.

She's never seen him this angry before and it scares her. She wants to get closer to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and comfort him in his frustration. But when Katsuki starts destroying one of the chairs with a battle axe, y/n is sure it's best to not get close to him at this moment.

So, she stands helplessly in the middle of the room flinching and trying to avoid flying splinters of wood.

Suddenly, there's a rustle at the entrance of the tent. A red-haired warrior enters it.

„Yo, Bakugou!“, the man says carefully and steps next to y/n.

„What the fuck do you want, shitty hair?“, Katsuki yells at him, his face contorted in anger.

„Making sure you don't scare the poor thing to death.“, the man says and points towards y/n.

„Fuck off, Kirishima. She's fine.“, Katsuki growls at him

The man named Kirishima sighs and gives y/n a side glance.

„You sure? She doesn't look too happy about this. You still have to mark her, maybe tune it down a bit until then.“, Kirishima tells his chief.

Katsuki drops the bits of wood he is holding and frowns.

„Whatever, shitty hair. What do you want?“, Katsuki asks.

Kirishima pushes his hands into his pockets.

„Looking if you're alright. I mean the presentation went... not well, I guess.“, the red-haired man says carefully.

Katsuki scoffs. „I'm fine. The hag's opinion doesn't matter. I'm chief.“, he declares.

Kirishima nods. „Of course, you are. And your decision stands.“, he reassures his leader.

„And if you ask me, I think you made a good choice.“, Kirishima continues.

„From all the women that we brought here over the last few years, that one is definitely the calmest. Remember when I brought mine? She was a mess, well, actually still is but I don't need to tell you that.“, Kirishima tries to reassure him.

When Katsuki doesn't answer, Kirishima quickly adds: „Also, she's very pretty.“.

Katsuki straightens his posture and looks y/n up and down.

„Yeah, she is.“, he tells his red-haired friend.

Kirishima nods cheerily. „Exactly. So why bother thinking about your mother's words? Why don't you and... uh...?“, Kirishima gestures towards y/n.

„Y/n“, Katsuki tells him.

„Right, why don't you and y/n come and join us at the stables? Denki, Sero, and I are heating up some mead. Have a drink with us.“, Kirishima proposes.

Katsuki shrugs. „I don't know. Y/n might not feel comfortable meeting more people after this.“, Katsuki tries to excuse himself.

Kirishima gives him a toothy grin. „Oh, what a gentleman. You're really smitten, aren't you?“, he teases.

Katsuki shoots him an angry look. „Shut the fuck up, Kirishima. It's just been a lot, ok?“, he mumbles.

Kirishima doesn't fail to notice the pink dust covering his chief's cheeks.

„Alright, what about this. Y/n stays here and can collect herself. You come with us for a drink. Maybe we can come back and catch her later. What do you think?“, Kirishima tries to convince him again.

Katsuki shrugs.

„I guess we can do that.“, Katsuki says reluctantly.

„Great!“; Kirishima says clapping his hands. „Y/n, you stay! We'll come back later.“, he tells the woman next to him who looks at him with wide eyes when he speaks directly to her.

Katsuki steps over the destroyed chair and follows his friend outside without sparing y/n a glance.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n feels like crying. She's standing in the middle of the half-destroyed room all alone. She's so confused.

What on earth happened?

What's going on?

Who is that red-haired man?

Where is Katsuki going?

Her head starts to hurt by the amount of force she uses to suppress her tears. Eventually, she can't hold them back anymore and hot tears run down her face.

She makes sure that no one can hear her sob.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @guccirosegold @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx @bakugouswh0r3 @xxjesshuxx @helenamaximoff @ssssssws-world @k1tk4tkatsuki @gh0stgirl333 @anon-mouse223 @bexxs @i-am-ms-rebel-heart @wannabeisekai @spragaraga @faemagic88 @kolakoke @faetoraa @cax-per @willy-the-witch @stardream14 @jiyuu-da @mintytalesblog @sparklyoperaroadpie @musicbecky @maria-patricia @mistermemister @katsukismrs @l0kisbitch @bakukiriswife @rebel-loves-anime @drink-water-456

@spragaraga @fudo-aki @stillcrazystacey @bakkusimpp @itsiambaby @leelee28901 @angie-1306 @miniaturebouquet @skibbiescoober @weebperson2003 @maria-patricia @alicecil87 @darlink-xoxo @novthewolf @berryvioo @all-in-the-fandoms @deftonianfr @faemagic88 @l-bozo-l @kolakoke @stxrrielle @gold24fish @notsaelty

[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

[shotmrmiller]

y'all know davy jones who can only step on land once every decade?

right, make that Simon, but he's something else.

He shows up hours before someone's passing. An inky nondescript shadow that blends into the background, unnoticed by most. But to those whose final specks of sand trickle through their hourglass?

They see him.

An entity condemned to a lifetime of servitude. A wretched, pitiful existence. Something that saps the life out of everything it touches. Something that can't feel the warm rays of the sun seep into his skin, can't smell petrichor in the dewy morning, when the world begins to wake.

He lives yet he doesn't. An eternity of suffering, of wishing he never begged for a way out of the braided strands of hemp that had tightened around his neck for his crimes so long ago.

His freedom forfeit the moment he pleaded for it.

With a lantern that glows an eerie green, he leads deceased souls to their final destination, even the ones who resist, who cling futilely to life, to what is no longer theirs.

Some might call him death, others Hermes. The only name he's ever cared for is his own, the one that his mother had given him back when men still sailed the seas in search of treasure, when men and women alike were hung at the gallows.

But now he is a nameless servant of the natural order that guides them all.

However, he was also given a boon. One single day, out of every ten years, the tight collar around his neck comes off, and he turns human.

A man of flesh and blood.

His lungs fill with the crisp, biting air that he never feels. Cheeks sting from the cold. Fingertips numb without gloves.

For one blessed night, the heart in his chest beats. For one blessed night, his body is warm, flush with life.

And it's been this way for as long as he can remember. He would roam the docks of back then, the briny air stinging his nose, the dulled thumping of hooves resounding in his ears. The chants of drunken men coming from inside lit taverns.

He roamed when cars began to be a form of transportation, when children, boys, began marching to war.

He had been so busy, then.

And he roams now, in the modern age, where medicine forestalls the inescapable.

But then, you. Blood rushes to his face the moment he lays eyes on you. His throat dries, turns to the paper that's used to strip paint.

He's never seen something so beautiful. So plump with vitality, life coursing through your veins. A sweet little thing, whose dulcet voice makes his knees weak.

And when you shake hands with him, palm engulfed in his much larger one, as you ask him for his name, his tongue feels as if it's coated with tar, swollen and heavy. But he garbles out his response anyway.

"Simon."

The way you breathe it back, like a sigh from a lover, could still his heart.

Everything else is a blur, his eyes only ever focused on you when he ends up in your arms, in between your spread thighs, inviting him where no creature such as he belongs.

But he's always yearned for what was never his, and so with fervor, he takes. Grabs at soft skin, and whimpers at the fact that you're not dead with his touch. Surrenders himself to you, completely; makes the little dove under him sing until the short arm on the clock gets close to 12.

This is where he departs, with a promise he swears to never break, and wrenches his heart out of his own chest, placing it in your gentle hands.

He swears to come back for it, once every ten years.

Whenever Simon turns back to whatever he's cursed with being, he keeps a keen eye on you. And then the one time he passes by, feeling like nothing but an artic breeze to you, he sees your life is close to an end.

Simon, for once in his pathetic existence, saves a human life. The car that crashes into you at a lethal speed, does nothing but total your vehicle. It is considered an absolute miracle to everyone, except you.

That should've been your demise. That should've been it.

His little dove, too smart for her own good.

The time will soon come again, and when his head rests on your chest, listening to the lulling sounds of your heart beating, will he tell you what he is.

(maybe, or not idk)

"It's a heady tonic. Holding life and death in the palm of your own hand."

[ang3lofdivinity]

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊𝖲𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝖨𝗇 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖾‧₊༉‧

Relationship(s) :: Jinx + Calypso (slightly yandere)!Fem!Reader (romantic - can be interpreted as platonic)

Genre :: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Format :: Oneshot

Warnings :: spoilers for season 2 of Arcane, trauma!!, death mentions, some swearing (Jinx), READER IS NOT CALYPSO - more so takes her place, Reader is a TEENY BIT Yandere, Suicide attempt (Jinx), mentions of previous suicide attempts (reader) Jinx still has some remaining feelings for Ekko, but eventually gives up, reader supposedly written to have long hair? But you can imagine the braiding flowers into it as shorter (length is not mentioned), heavily inspired by Jorge’s “Love In Paradise”

A/N :: I LOVE MY WIFE. Anyways, enjoy this crappy thing I spent too much of my life on. (W.C :: 6.1k words)

Ⅰ - Ⅱ - Ⅲ

This island was paradise—lush, vibrant, and timeless, never seeming to ever grow anything out of place - fruits never seemed to rot, and animals always seemed to thrive on the island (that being if they didn’t die first thing upon arriving).

Known as Ogygia in myths long forgotten, or as you ever so lovingly referred to it as “The Garden” this place was hidden far, far away from any human civilization: the closest island around was Demacia, but even then it was way too far out for anyone to reach this place without any sort of aircraft or boat.

The place was more than a home; it was your prison. You’ve been cursed to remain on the island for eternity, your punishment was twofold: you could never leave, nor could you ever avoid the loneliness that came with immortality. It’s always been your punishment ever since you were a young girl, being only 11.

Once, albeit a long time ago: you were free from the shackles of this hidden island, able to wander freely around the world. As a goddess, you had more power than you could dream of - almost everything at your fingertips: magic, power, anything you desired would become true in an instant. And with your father, being the almighty being that he is, you were safe.

Or so you thought.

A war began to play out, and you were in the middle of it. You had to pick a side, nevertheless if you wanted to or not, you had no choice in that regard.

Nevertheless, you picked your fathers side to fight within the war, to which was your fatal mistake (though neither side of the war was fair, you really just wanted to stay out of it in the first place).

You watched as they killed your father with relentless attacks, no clemency shown to your father, now a husk of a god. You once believed that with his immortality, no god would be able to kill him.

This proved you wrong, didn’t it?

As you wept by his side, the golden blood pooling around him and splattering onto your clothes, the gods had decided your fate amongst themselves without your knowledge until the last moment: leading you to where you are now.

On an island.

With no way to get off it.

Though centuries had passed without company, you never allowed despair to claim you completely. You tended to your gardens, took time in enjoying the scenery of the island (even if you have already walked around more than enough times to remember every little detail of the island), and watched the ocean’s endless ebb and flow.

Time slipped by like the grains of sand in your palm by the beach of the island.

.

The day had begun like any other. You had been weaving fresh blooms into your hair, the freshest and prettiest ones you could find. Though you truly never had anyone to appreciate your efforts you put into your appearance, you tried your absolute best to look more pretty than yesterday. The skies above Ogygia were usually serene as they were right now, painted in soft hues of blue and gold.

But then, all of the sudden: a loud noise began to spurr.

You glanced up for a moment, surveying around. And upon seeing nothing, you simply hummed and continued what you were doing previously.

..but then the disaster happened.

The serene sky, once so beautiful, had now been tainted with the roar of a dying.. aircraft?

Your heart leapt as you immediately stopped what you were doing; quickly pulling your hands away from your hair as you saw the machine plummet into the ocean just beyond the shoreline of your island, smoke billowing as it sank beneath the waves.

Your first instinct was disbelief; surely it was a mirage or a trick of your own longing for companionship! I mean, you have been alone here for so long now, of course you want someone to be around you and so you can have someone talk or talk with you.

But when the wreckage washed ashore—along with the battered body of its pilot—you knew it was real.

You hesitated, standing a safe distance from the unconscious woman. Her clothes were tattered, her bright blue hair matted with grime, and her weapons—strange devices you couldn’t comprehend—were scattered around her.

From what you could see..: the woman’s hair was stained with streaks of purple paint, though it was rather.. short. At least the back of it was, her bang - which was streaked with purple - was far longer.

Her face is marked by smeared face paint, with streaks of pink underneath her eyes, wearing a top of.. bandages with neon graffiti-like splashes of color. Her dark trousers are similarly streaked with colorful paint.

The woman has layered straps, belts, and mechanical embellishments, adding a steampunk flair. She dons mismatched gloves, one of which is fingerless while the other is metallic in appearance from what you can see. Her boots are high, combat-style with heavy laces and metal accents, covered in the same paint-splatter as the rest of her look.

The stranger looked dangerous. But what mattered most was figuring out if she was alive or not.

You knelt down beside her, your fingers trembling as you brushed some sand from the woman’s cheek. Slowly, your fingers slid down to her neck- looking around for a pulse.

You let out a relieved breath when you finally found it.

“You’re not a ghost,” you whispered, more to yourself than the unconscious pilot. (Given the fact that she couldn’t hear you in her resting state).

But the stranger was injured. Badly.

You didn’t waste another moment. You darted back to your palace, gathering medical supplies you hadn’t used in centuries but always kept ready.

Returning to the beach, you began cleaning and dressing the stranger’s wounds with practiced care. For someone who’s been on an island for longer than you can remember, you definitely are surprised with the way you managed to fix up the injured woman’s wounds (even if you were.. slightly embarrassed to help bandage and clean some of them up due to the placement of them).

Though.. she’ll hopefully forgive you!

I mean, you’re saving her life. So it’s worth the embarrassment.

When she finally stirred, her vision was blurred, and her body ached as though she’d been through a war. The first thing she noticed was the faint tickle of.. sand touching her cheek. A groan escaped her lips, and she tried to move, only to wince as pain shot through her bandaged side.

Upon hearing the sound, someone glanced over. A soft smile curved at their lips as they abandoned their weaving of wildflowers into a crown and made their way to the stranger’s side. They crouched beside her, tilting their head to the side a bit, obviously curious.

The woman’s head was pounding as she stared confusingly at the person before her. They lay down beside the injured woman, propping their head on one hand and studying her face with unguarded fascination.

She blinked at them, groggy and disoriented. Maybe this was all just some weird dream she was having.

…but the sand on her cheek felt too realistic.

Reaching a hand up, she poked herself.

And that’s when she finally registered that someone was lying right beside her, her instincts kicked in, and she jolted upright with a panicked gasp.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” They chirped, unfazed by the sudden movement. They sat up slowly, brushing stray sand off their clothes before reaching for more bandages.

“You’ve been resting for a while. It’s a good thing I found you when I did. You were in rough shape.”

The woman eyed them warily, one hand subconsciously reaching around behind her, trying to find her weapons or anything she could use as a weapon at the time.

But they weren’t very threatening. On the contrary, they were …

What's the right word?..

“I swore you were dead when you washed up on my isle,” They continued with a light laugh, deftly fixing the bandages she had disturbed.

“But lucky for you, I’m very good at taking care of people.”

She groaned again, both from the lingering pain and the unfamiliar sensation of someone fussing over her.

“And did you know you talk in your sleep?” They added casually as if they were simply discussing the weather, their tone teasing.

Her cheeks flushed, and she averted her gaze.

“Great. Just great,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

“Tell me, though—who’s Violet?”

She froze, her muscles tensing. It seems the name struck a nerve. She swallowed hard before muttering:

“She’s my sister.”

They hummed in response, finishing the bandages with a gentle pat. They didn’t press further, sensing the raw emotion behind the admission. Instead, they smiled and stood, offering the woman a hand.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up properly. You’ll feel better after a bath and some food,” they said brightly.

“Oh! I need to introduce myself to you! I completely forgot!! I’m (____)!”

You walked into the room, medical supplies in hand once more, your eyes immediately scanning the woman. The bluette sat stiffly on the edge of a chair, her towel now replaced with the clothes you had left for her—a slightly snug shirt that exposed her midriff and simple black shorts that fit her frame.

“Does it feel okay?” You asked, tilting your head as you set the supplies down on a nearby nightstand.

She tugged at the hem of the shirt, her lips pressing into a line as she figured out the correct wording for what she was going to say.

“It’s… fine,” she muttered, clearly unused to the softness of the fabric or the attention she was receiving. You’ve seen that look once before amongst the faces of others you’d taken care of before you were banished to this island.

You quietly nodded, brushing off the woman’s tone.

“Alright, then. Sit still for a moment please. Let’s take a closer look at those injuries.”

She grumbled something under her breath, but didn’t move as you knelt beside her. You carefully reached for her arm, inspecting a faint but deep gash near her elbow.

“You’ve got a bunch of wounds I didn’t notice before,” you murmured, voice soft but laced with concern. You reached for a cotton pad, soaking it in antiseptic.

“This might sting a bit.”

She didn’t even wince as the antiseptic touched her skin, but her muscles tensed due to it. Perhaps because she was unused to this kind of care for wounds such as these, she did use staples to close up her wounds in the past..

But you don’t know that!

“You’re really enjoying this, huh?” she teased, masking her discomfort with sarcasm.

“Not particularly. But I can’t just let you sit around looking like you lost a fight with a thorn bush.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” She muttered, deeply sighing after her little comment.

You moved as quickly but gently as you could, cleaning the wound and wrapping it with a bandage.

You glanced up at the woman, your gaze softening when you saw the woman staring intently at the floor, her brows furrowed.

“Hey,” you said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m not going to hurt you, you know. You’re hurt, and if nothing is done about these - they could get infected and become worse overall. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable: and if I am, tell me. I wish to help you, that’s all I want.”

She looked up, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something in response to your words, but she just stayed quiet instead, giving you a small nod in the end.

You stayed quiet yourself before you eventually leaned back to examine her other injuries.

“Now, I saw a cut on your stomach earlier. Are you okay with me looking at it?”

She hesitated, her hands instinctively resting over the hem of the shirt before sighing.

“Just get it over with,” she finally said, her voice quieter than before.

You gave her a reassuring smile and reached for another antiseptic pad. You gently lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing a long, jagged wound stretching from her side to just under her ribs. Your fingers worked deftly, cleaning the area with care.

“You’ve been through a lot,” you said, your tone almost a whisper as the woman let out a dry laugh in response.

“You could say that again.”

You didn’t press. Instead, you finished wrapping the wound and leaned back to assess your work.

“There,” you said, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“All patched up! You’re good as new—well, almost.”

She smirked faintly, a way to show her gratitude.

“Thanks, doc.”

And you smiled, rising to your feet.

“Let’s get you something to eat. Then you should get some rest. No arguments.”

She didn’t argue, surprisingly enough to the both of you. You helped her to her feet, and as the two of you had began to leave, she spoke.

“You’re weird, y’know that?” She muttered, just audible enough so you could hear it.

And you laughed, leading the way from the loft to her new room.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jinx stood in the middle of the guest room, staring at the bed. Her eyes traced the pristine sheets, the neatly fluffed pillow, and the faint floral embroidery on the quilt. It was too… perfect. Too clean.

The kind of thing she didn’t trust.

Though her body ached from the day’s events, her mind buzzed with restlessness. She rubbed the back of her neck, fingers grazing one of the many bandages you had carefully applied. That woman had been way too nice. No one did things like that for free..

Jinx cautiously approached before she sat on the edge of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. As comfortable as the room was, there was no rug and no other way for warmth besides the quilt resting upon the bed.

She stared at her reflection in the dark window, barely recognizing herself.

You know, without her usual paint smeared across her cheeks, she looked… wrong.

Exposed. Vulnerable.

She pulled at the hem of the shirt you had given her, fingers curling into the fabric. The soft material felt foreign against her skin, and she hated how it smelled faintly of flowers. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to strip it off. It wasn’t like she had many options anyhow.

With a huff she laid down, legs dangling off the bed as her arms lay above her, staring at the ceiling above.

After she’d faked her death, she began to think about what life back home had turned into. Has it become chaotic? Better? Peaceful? War-like once more?

And then the thoughts of the ones she’d left behind in that once so bloody land.

Violet.. perhaps she would be in absolute disarray, in a state of depression due to her death. Or, perhaps she would be enjoying her freedom of being away from the one she’d referred to as sister.

She scoots up within the bed, now resting her head upon one of the pillows as she laid on her side.

As for others, such as Ekko…

…

Ekko..

The name strikes something within her, eyes now slightly wild as she stared intently at the wall.

..she should try and sleep. She can’t let these constant reminders of her past continue haunting her anymore. She’s supposedly dead, after all. Nobody knows of her current situation, and she has no way to get back home.

So, Jinx attempted to close her eyes, trying to fall asleep and forget about this incident.

But her thoughts wouldn’t quiet.

Flashes of the crash played behind her eyelids—the fire, the smoke, the suffocating silence of the ocean swallowing her whole. Not only that, but the explosion before she had escaped—the soft grip she had on Vander as he scowled up at her, the feeling of her free-falling, setting off the bomb…

How Violet looked at her before she let go..

‘Always with you, sis..’

‘BECAUSE YOU’RE A JINX!’

‘She jinxes every job!’

‘JINX!’

She bolted upright, heart racing, breath shallow.

Her eyes darted around for a mere moment before realizing she was still in your guest room..

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, running a hand through her damp hair. She couldn’t stay here. She didn’t belong in places like this.

Sliding out of bed, she wandered over to the window nearby. The moonlight bathed the island in a silvery glow, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the night air.

..It was strangely soothing.

Her gaze drifted to the hallway. You had said you’d be “just down the hall,” as if that made everything better. She scoffed at the thought but still found herself lingering near the door anyway.

After a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed a pillow off the bed and sat down in the corner of the room, pressing her back against the wall. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was familiar.

Safe, even.

She clutched the pillow to her chest, her eyes darting around the room once more for any sign of danger. None came. The only sounds were the faint creak of the palace settling and the ever-present hum of the ocean.

She had once always stayed up, forgetting to rest and eat. She never was that healthy back when she worked under him, always tinkering with something - her projects always had her attention and care, more of it than she had for herself. So, she forgot to sleep, eat, and other essential things most of the time.

But now she feels oddly.. tired.

Perhaps it could be all of today’s events weighing down on her. Or perhaps it was just the fact she felt safe.

Though eventually, her eyelids grew heavy, and her head tilted back against the wall.

Sleep came reluctantly, but it came.

The woman didn’t know it yet, but you, ever vigilant, had cracked her door open just enough to peek inside. Seeing Jinx asleep—even in such an odd position—brought a small smile to your lips.

“She’ll get there,” you whispered to yourself, quietly closing the door.

“In time.”

Over the following days, you took care of Jinx—as you later figured out her name was, feeding her from the fruits of your gardens, washing the grime from her skin, and stitching her tattered clothes with delicate precision.

Jinx, at first, was wary. She didn’t trust the kindness you gave her, especially due to the fact that she didn’t even know you (that was the way she was raised, you know). You could tell by the way she looked at you. But your genuine warmth was.. hard to resist, in her eyes. You were a goddess-turned-caretaker to the broken woman before you, a woman who was once an innocent girl called a ‘jinx’ .

You didn’t know that though..

But still, she had forced herself to remain silent. Though, she did stop treating you with such resistance and harshness, eventually just allowing you to do your thing.

Everything was going fine, surprisingly enough. The two of you had begun to bond.

..then those damned hallucinations started to come back for her.

“Jinx?” You called out, receiving no reply. You huffed in frustration: this was the last room she could possibly be in. You’d looked ALL around your palace with not a single bluette in sight. This had genuinely got you to begin worrying about the woman once more, the heavy rain pouring outside only making everything feel more tense.

You paced around in the parlor downstairs, thoughts racing as you tried to think of places who hadn’t checked or anywhere you could possibly find her outside of the palace.

That’s when it clicked.

The cliff.

There’s a cliff at the edge near the palace, giving a wonderful view of the landscape below. After all, the palace was perched at the top of the island..

…

Quickly, you grabbed any random coat of yours you could find to cover you (even if it did a poor job of protecting you from the rainfall), you swiftly opened up the back door of the palace, rushing outside without even bothering to close the door behind you as you ran.

You ran, ran, and ran. Never stopping for a moment as you began to feel tears falling down your cheeks, hair sticking to your face due to the constant rainfall. Of course you were gonna get soaked, but you didn’t care at this moment.

What mattered? Finding Jinx.

And as you finally arrived near the cliff, clutching onto the now wet coat which ensnared you, desperately trying to catch your breath: you finally noticed a silhouette of a figure standing at the edge of it.

“Jinx?..” you called out, tone firm but as gentle as you could possibly make it.

“Stop! No—no, it was a mistake! I didn’t mean to!” Jinx’s voice cracked as she yelled into the void, her arms flailing before clenching into fists.

“Shut up! Just shut up! I can’t think when you’re all SCREAMING at me!”

“Jinx!” Yelling out her name seemed to work in catching her attention as she snapped her head over to you.

You could still see the illumination of her red violet colored eyes within the dark and rainy night, noticing how they stare at you in pure shock.

“(____)?.. no- no, just get outta here. I’m in no mood!” She returned to gazing over the cliff, rain clouding your vision as you stepped cautiously closer to her.

It’s like.. she was afraid that you were going to hurt her.

So you did what you could to reassure her.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, if that’s what you're worried about..” you drawled out your words slowly, trying not to cause any more panic or worry for the already clearly distressed woman before you.

“STOP! I TOLD YOU LET ME THINK!!” Jinx screamed out to someone you couldn’t see, you supposed, arms flailing rapidly around as she balled up her fists, noticeably getting closer to the edge of the cliff.

“Please get away from the ledge!!” You cried out, trying to get closer to her without slipping.

“Why should I?!” Jinx whipped around again, her voice breaking as it rose.

“You don’t know what I’ve been through! You don’t know what I’ve sacrificed!” Her nails dug into her arms so hard you winced at the sight.

“I’ve lost everyone!” Jinx screamed, her voice raw and guttural.

“Every friend, every comrade—they left me! Lied to me! Betrayed me! Or worse, they died, and I couldn’t stop it!” She stumbled closer to the edge, her knees buckling as the storm battered her.

“And now I hear them, I see them- even though they’re not here!”

“It’s going to be fine, Jinx. Listen to me: just come back inside. I know your life’s been hard, but it would be so much worse if you had died.”

Everything within you made you feel like you couldn’t speak, but still tried your best to push through the lump in your throat that had formed over time during this predicament.

“Just please.. stay away from harm. I’m begging you.” You’re desperate at this point, trying to get her to come back to you as she slowly gets closer and closer to the edge of the ledge, seemingly muttering something to someone who you still cannot see. You slowly reached your trembling hands out, offering your hands for her to hold.

And you’re stuck calling out to her and her not even paying attention to you, you’re getting closer to her but everytime it’s like she gets further away from you.

Jinx’s shoulders shook as she let out a bitter laugh.

“You don’t get it. You shouldn’t care. I’m too far gone for that.”

“No, you’re not!” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through.

“I care about you! And I’m not the only one. You matter, Jinx. You’re worth so much more than you believe. Please—just step back. Come inside. Let me help you.”

“I’ve tried this before, and it never worked! It’s not going to make your life better, it’s not going to make anything better! It’s not the answer. And sure, you’ve probably heard that a thousand times before, but let me tell you this: not everyone sees you the way you see yourself, and that means you mean so much more than what you believe you’re worth.” Your hands grip at your scalp, nails digging into your skull as you feel the salty tears, restrained for so many years begin to fall and mix with the pure rain pour falling relentlessly.

She stared silently at you as you’d begun to break down before her.

She stood perfectly still, the tension in her frame palpable. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her expression unreadable as she gazed over at you through.

“I care about you, and others you might not even expect to care about you! We’re proud of you! I’m proud of you!” You now hug yourself as you see her stare at you for a moment longer.

But then, you see her turn back around to face the ocean.

..wait.

What.. What is she doing?..

“..Jinx?” You nervously called out, trying to see if she would respond to what she was doing.

“I hope someone else can be your friend. Someone better than me.”

“Jinx, no!” You screamed as the bluette suddenly lunged forward.

Just what you had been dreading this entire time.

Without thinking, you surged after her, your legs propelling you forward with every ounce of strength you had. Just as her feet left the ground, your arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back with all your might.

You both collapsed onto the wet ground as you clutched Jinx tightly, closer to you. Sobs wracked your body, lowering your face so she could not see the pathetic display of emotion.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you choked out, your voice muffled against her damp hair.

“Don’t you dare leave me.”

“Please..”

She didn’t fight you.

For once, the bluette was silent, her trembling form yielding to your desperate embrace as the rain continued to pour around you both.

. . .

The storm had quieted by morning, though the rain persisted, a steady rhythm against the palace’s windows. Inside, the air was warm, Surprisingly enough.

You sat in the main hall near the fireplace, your hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, though you hadn’t taken a single sip.

Your.. attention was occupied by something else this morning. Last night, to be more precise.

But then, you heard the faint creak of a door behind you, followed by light, hesitant footsteps. Turning your head, you saw Jinx standing at the entrance of the room. The bluette looked a little better than the night before—her hair was damp from an earlier shower, and she wore the same borrowed clothes you had given her earlier. Still, her eyes were puffy and rimmed with dark circles, her posture stiff.

“Morning,” Jinx mumbled, avoiding your gaze as she shuffled closer.

“Morning,” you replied softly, setting your cup down and straightening in your seat. Your eyes searched Jinx’s face, looking for any sign of how she might be feeling.

“How… are you feeling?”

Jinx shrugged, her arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the back of a chair. She stayed quiet for a long moment before speaking up.

“I’m alive. Guess that’s a start.” Her voice was guarded, though there was a flicker of something vulnerable beneath the surface.

You let out a sigh, relieved to see her here, even if she was still clearly shaken.

“That’s more than a start. That’s everything,” you spoke gently, motioning to the chair across from you.

“Sit with me?”

Jinx hesitated for a moment, then walked over and slumped into the seat. She didn’t say anything at first, her eyes darting to the fire, then to her hands, which fidgeted with the hem of her shirt once more. It’s become a habit, you suppose.

You leaned forward, resting your forearms on your knees as you spoke.

“I’m glad you’re here,” your voice cracked ever so slightly, trying to keep your composure.

“And I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard yesterday. I was just… scared.”

Jinx’s fingers froze for a moment before resuming their restless movement.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” she muttered, her voice low.

“I don’t get why you even care. I’m just a mess.”

“You’re not just anything,” you replied firmly, causing Jinx to glance up, albeit briefly.

“You’re allowed to feel broken. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worth caring about.”

Jinx scoffed, though it lacked her usual bite.

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

You smiled faintly, letting out a small giggle at her words.

“Maybe. But I’d rather be too nice than leave someone I care about to suffer alone.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the patter of rain against the windows. Jinx shifted in her seat, her defenses cracking just a little.

“I don’t know what to do with all this,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“The noise, the memories… It’s like I can’t escape them.”

You nodded, now finally understanding what she was doing last night; trying to be rid of those thoughts and people that haunted her regardless of how horrible or how good she was doing in life.

“You don’t have to figure it all out at once. Healing takes time, and it’s not something you have to do on your own.” You reached across the small table between the two of you, your hand resting palm-up.

“Let me help. Even if it’s just for now.”

Jinx stared at your hand for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she let out a shaky breath and placed her fingers lightly over yours, her touch tentative.

“I don’t know if I can be fixed,” she murmured.

“You don’t need to be fixed,” you replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You just need someone who won’t give up on you. And I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

Jinx didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away or try to ignore you either. For now, that was enough.

You never really wanted her to find out the truth this way. Never!

But of course, it’s how it happened for the two of you.

As you sit upon a rock, staring off at the endless ocean you’d grown too familiar with, you recollect what had just happened within your memory.. 

It starts with an argument. Jinx, ever restless, grew impatient with her confinement on the island, and although you’ve tried your absolute best to try and make her feel comfortable- you cannot stop her from wanting to leave. She’s fiddling with her makeshift tools, trying to repair her weapons or fashion something capable of escape, when she presses you for answers as you listen.

“Why can’t you leave?” Jinx demands while glancing over at you, tossing a hunk of scrap metal into the sand.

“You’ve got all this magic stuff—but you’re telling me you can’t poof us outta here?!”

You, seated a little ways off on your usual favorite rock, glance up from the basket of fruit you’re weaving. Your eyes flicker with hesitation for a moment before looking back down at the basket.

“It’s not that simple..”

Jinx scoffs, rising to her feet as if in retaliation.

“Not that simple? You’re full of magic! You’re a GODDESS!! I’ve seen you grow a whole damn tree with a wave of your hand. What’s stopping you from getting us off this rock?!”

You let out a shaky exhale, setting the basket down. Your usual demeanor dims, and your shoulders slump under the weight of what you're about to say.

“The island isn’t just my home, Jinx. It’s my prison.”

Jinx freezes.

“…prison?”

“I’m bound here by a spell,” you start, your voice soft.

“I’m being punished by powers greater than me for… for simply siding with my father, I suppose. I can’t leave, Jinx. Not now, not ever.”

The words hit Jinx like a punch to the gut. For once, she’s speechless. Her wide red violet eyes staring at you as if trying to tell if you’re lying to her or not.

“You’re serious,” she finally mutters.

You nod, avoiding her gaze.

“I didn’t want to tell you. You’ve suffered enough. I didn’t want to make you feel trapped, too.”

“Because one day… someone is going to come and take you from me. Take you from my island. Because that is your wish, to get off this island. The gods will see how desperate you wish to get off- and they will grant you the opportunity. Whether you like it or not.”

“And after you agree…”

That’s all you manage to say before you begin to feel the tears well up within your eyes, causing you to sniffle.

“Sorry- I.. I have to go.” You choke out, hand resting over your mouth as you hurry off away from the beach and to the palace on the hill. She watches your form as it retreats back..

Jinx eventually spirals after you leave. The revelation tears at her, dredging up feelings of guilt and helplessness she’s long tried to bury. She storms off to the shoreline, pacing furiously, yelling at the gods she doesn’t even believe in nor know of for their cruelty.

“This is a joke, right?!” she shouts at the sky.

“You put her here, and now me, too? You think this is funny?!”

“Fine! You wanna play games? I’ll show you who’s in charge. NOBODY traps me!”

As days pass, Jinx’s bravado gives way to a quieter resolve.

She starts spending more time with you, observing you - being the goddess you are, in ways she hadn’t before. She notices the way you smile, even though you’re clearly lonely. The way you tend to your garden, pouring your heart into nurturing life despite your own emptiness. And the way your eyes light up, even if just a little whenever she laughs.

Jinx starts to realize something she never thought she would’ve felt before: how much you mean to her. You’ve taken care of her without asking for anything in return, not for a price, not for your advantage — none of that. But just because she was someone who was broken, and you wished to piece her back together, even with her cruel behavior.

And so the thought of leaving without you becomes, for lack of a better term: unbearable. Even annoying.

. .

Weeks later in the evening, a storm begins to brew on the horizon of your island. You feel it first with the magic, obvious to be that of someone powerful coming to your island.

You eventually find yourself with Jinx right behind you heading over to the shore to see what’s going on outside.

And what do you both see?

A rather abstract figure; a concept of pure light.

You know exactly what this is.

A messenger.

The gods have sent a messenger.

Just as you had predicted.

“Jinx,” the figure announces, tone godly-like as it echoes.

“You have been given a choice. The gods have seen your struggle and your spirit. You may leave this island and return to your world.”

Jinx’s first reaction is excitement—she will get her freedom once more! But the messenger’s next words make her stomach drop.

“(_____) will remain here. Her fate is unchanging.”

Jinx’s throat tightens. She turns to look at you, who stands a few paces behind her, but your expression is unreadable.

The messenger continues:

“Choose wisely. Once you depart, you cannot return. And the longer you stay, the harder it will be for you to leave.”

. . .

Later that night, Jinx finds you sitting on a rocky outcrop overlooking the ocean.

The goddess, you, are quiet, your hands idly weaving a flower crown, though your movements are slower than usual.

Jinx approaches cautiously, unsure how to start. She finally plops down beside you, the silence stretching between the two of you.

“They want me to leave,” Jinx says finally, her voice gruff.

“I know,” you reply without looking at her.

Jinx hesitates.

“But they won’t let you come with me.”

You smile faintly, though it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“That’s the way it’s always been. Anyone who comes here is free to leave—except me. You’re not the first to come to my island, and you’re not going to be the last. They all will leave, and I will remain here.”

“Yeah, well, that’s stupid,” Jinx mutters, kicking at the sand at her feet.

You laugh at her spirit softly, setting the flower crown down into your lap. You turn to Jinx, eyes glossy.

“You should go, Jinx. You have a life waiting for you out there. I don’t want to be the reason you miss it. Besides, you’ve wanted your freedom back after all this time: now's your chance!”

Jinx clenches her fists, her heart warring with her head.

“You think I’m just gonna leave you here? After everything?!”

“You can’t save me, Jinx,” you speak so matter of factly, it genuinely makes her angry. You let out a sigh, glancing down at the flower crown within your lap once more.

“No one can.”

“Bullsh—” Jinx stops herself, her voice breaking. She glimpses over at you, taking a moment to simply.. scan over your form.

“I’m not leaving,” Jinx says firmly.

Your breath hitches as you hear those words.

Not once has anyone ever said that and meant it to you.

But with her tone and her personality.. you don’t doubt she’s telling the truth.

“Jinx—”

“I’m staying,” Jinx interrupts you.

“You’re stuck here, fine. Then I’m stuck here, too. We’ll figure it out together.”

For the first time in centuries, you feel something you thought you’d lost forever:

Hope.

Even while being stuck in paradise..

You’re finally getting what you’ve always wanted. Companionship. And yes, perhaps it’s a bit selfish..

But in the end, it’s Jinx’s choice.

No matter what, you’re always going to be stuck in paradise, even if she leaves or stays. Though, facing it together would be better..

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Masterlist on all things Ghost Jade. 📝 = Written 🖼️ = Illustration 📔 = Comic

A timeline-based compilation of works of Ghost and Jade along the events of Modern Warfare II (2022)

❋ Reboot!Jade's profile 🖼️ ❋ Jade in MWII briefing cutscenes 🖼️

Ghost and Jade's first meeting...

Prologue - Hard Time 🖼️📝

Ghost and Jade during the Alone mission! 🖼️

Take Care of Yourself 🖼️📝

Jade sees Ghost's face for the first time 🖼️

Catch My Breath (the first kiss) 🖼️📝

Wildflower (Valentine's Day 2023) 🖼️📝

More of You (there's only one bed oop) Part 1 Part 2 📝🖼️ Sketch

Jade meets Ghost's family 📝

What if Ghost saw Jade injured? 📝

Team Las Almas 🖼️

When Ghost Crumbles, She Finally Saw Simon 🖼️

Ghost Brushes Jade's Hair 🖼️

Jade gives in to Ghost's aesthetic 📔

Ghost and Jade's Outfits Through The Seasons 🖼️

When Did Ghost Learn How To Braid? 🖼️

Jade vs Ghost! 🖼️

Protective Ghost 📔

Jade's hair 📔

SKETCHES 1 2 3

Ghost and Jade's Wedding🖼️

Ghost and Jade's Children 🖼️📝

Ghost and Jade's First Impression on Each Other 🖼️📝

Jade Forcefully Opens Ghost's Mask! (Just my rambling but this is the first ever post of Jade) 🖼️📝

A Night To Kill 🖼️📝

Meteor Showers Part I 📔

Meteor Showers Part II 📔

Ghost Takes Care of Jade During Her Period 🖼️📝

ALMOST First Kiss?? 🖼️

We Survived The Whole-Ass War Together and Now Let's Have Our First Date For Real 🖼️

Know my OTP in 5 Minutes meme 🖼️

Ghost Braids Jade's Hair 🖼️

BBQ Sauce on Me Tits... 🖼️

Ghost Spilled his Tea 🖼️

Wrong Room Jade... 🖼️

What if Ghost Survives? Sketch 🖼️

Veteran!Ghost x Vet!Jade ft. Riley the Doggo 🖼️📝

Vigilante!Ghost x Police!Jade 🖼️📝

Azrael!Ghost ft. Jade

Take Care of Yourself Out There, Alright? 🖼️

Painting Ghost and Jade's Face Claim! 🖼️

Help Ghost with His Eyeliner Plz 📔

@shadeops21 's "A Vet, A Vet, and a Dog" based on my Vet AU. 📝

@shadeops21's Quackbang! based of my Jade in Ghost's Jacket illlustration. 🖼️📝

@simonriley1994 's Fanfic of Meteor Showers 📝

@nightfurylisa wrote a song for GhostJade and her friend sings it!! OH MY GOD 😭❤️❤️ 🎙️