#EVERYDAY WE ARE CLOSER TO GETTING THIS DRAWN

[mhaynoot]

yjh: live, kim dokja. this world will continue even without me

kdj yoo joonghyuk, you son of a bitch. i cannot continue in a world without you

[vidavalor]

Aziraphale Learning "Everyday"

I love how when Aziraphale has only ever heard "Everyday" as sung once or twice by Gabriel in the bookshop earlier that day, he mashes up two different lines of it when singing it for Maggie to identify. It shows what parts of the song stood out to him.

Aziraphale remembers the "Everyday/It's a-gettin [x']" hook that everyone remembers but he doesn't remember the "...closer/Goin' faster/Than a rollercoaster" bit because his mind was more drawn to the other part of the song that Gabriel was singing.

The other bit of the song is "Every way/Love's a little stronger" and that's what Aziraphale related to in the song and why he mentally substituted the word "stronger" for the word "closer" when first singing it to Maggie. The two things he initially remembered about the song is the primary musical hook of it/core of the song that everyone remembers... and the bit where it talks about how everyday, in every way, love is growing stronger.

I wonder why Aziraphale might relate to that? 😇

After Maggie gives him the record and we see Aziraphale listening to the original song a few times, he now can remember the lyrics with more confidence, and he sings the first line of the song correctly to Crowley later on. By then, though, we know that we were already shown that his initial reaction to the song was to relate to the lyrics about a love that just keeps getting stronger.

[appleblueberry-pie]

yandere miles 42 when a guys asks you out to prom yk like where they make a whole scene a cardboard box cut into a square and it has will you go out to prom with me 😭😭 and says the most cheasy thing making you cringe and a large group of ppl are surrounding you two but we reject them and they get mad and you tell miles all abt it ^^ i love your posts btw🙏🏽

[Come back home to me.]

You knew something funny was gonna happen when people were smiling your way, giggling and whispering about you. And the further you trekked down the hallway, the more crowded it was. You tried to keep your eyes to yourself as you slithered through the crowd. Clutching your backpack straps harder. Phones were out and on you, you felt a little nervous. This day has been hard enough for you. Long, grueling hours in class, people chatting up a storm in your ears, a mind-blowing headache that you've had all damn day that you could only take medication for just 30 minutes ago. You were tired.

"Hey, Y/n!" You tense up before sighing, shoulders dropping. How much happier would you be if you just ignored the call of your name and dealt with the backlash tomorrow, instead? You recognized the voice, and knew that if you ignored him...you'd be dealing with the consequences forever. You decided to turn around.

There goes Travis. His dark brown complexion and well-maintained dreads make him stand out. They were pulled back into a low pony, probably because he knew these videos would be the talk of the school for a while. He always loved the spotlight. A junior, like you, giving you that smile that all of the girls bothered him to give to them. It's directed right at you while he holds a beautifully made sign. It's humongous. And pink. And purple. Colors that you don't remember telling him were your favorite. Your head begins to hurt again when you notice your name drawn in amazing detail and care, followed by something among the lines of "prom" and "love of my life."

Somehow in the time span that you scanned your eyes over the sign that determined your possibly inevitable doom, a perfect circle was formed by the students who stood and watched you two like hawks. The flash on phones made you calculate that these videos wouldn't leave the internet for at least a month. Great. A month of reminders. A month of prodding and picking at your sanity from a place you have to go to damn near every day for an education. And a month of replays of a rejection.

You're not telling him yes.

Travis's homeboys hoot and holler to encourage him. "Y/n..." He starts, taking a step closer to you. A fake smile wobbles onto your lips and you stare up at him. "......yes...?" Everyone suddenly goes silent as you two begin to converse.

The way he stares at you makes you feel like....what he's looking for in you isn't something you'd give up for any high school boy anytime. Because what he wants, you know it isn't genuine love. So it makes you nervous the way he seems to tower over you during his, so called, "profession of love".

"Your beauty and smarts is something I've always wanted in a girl." His voice is loud and clear. It echoes throughout the hallway, like he wants everyone to hear. You don't think the halls have ever been so quiet. "Everyday, I'd pass you in the hallways while you carry your textbooks and wonder what it'd be like talking to you every morning before class. What it would be like to love you the way you deserve to be loved." His vague explanation of his love towards you had you wondering if anyone else also realized how fake this whole thing was.

His dark brown eyes never leave your face and he's right in front of you now. "So, I made this sign...to show you how much I love you. And how much I want to be with you. So, if it isn't so much to ask," Travis slowly puts the sign aside and drops to one knee, taking one of your hands into his, holding it carefully. "would you please go to prom with me? And let me be your man?"

The longer he watched the live feed, the harder it was to not burn his work space to the ground. The longer he listened, the harder he tweaked his claw he was attempting to fix. He was trying. He was trying so hard to stay calm. Because it's not like you'd say yes. But at the same time, no matter how often he kills or beats niggas up, "They just keep fucking touching you, puto cabrón!" He swipes the table, his tools and broken claw flying to the ground. Miles takes deep breaths, holding his head in his hands.

He stands up, turning off his phone and begins pacing. He didn't wanna see the rest of that. Why does he have to keep doing this? Don't they understand your his? Just his??? Yes, you're the shining light that keeps Brooklyn alive, yes, yes, this isn't news. But he's always with you. So why do they keep bothering you?

It doesn't matter because he's gonna keep killing them until they get the message. The more roaches he brings into the light, the better. He suddenly rushes to his phone and quickly dials your number, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself.

Your phone silently vibrates in your back pocket and your heart drops. It had to be Miles. Because he wasn't at school today and this definitely wouldn't have happened if he was here. You're so fucked, you think to yourself as everyone cheers at Travis's speech. And it goes silent again as they wait for your answer.

Suddenly, Travis is so hard to look at. You didn't want to be stared at like that when he's gonna die in the next few hours. Miles was gonna get him and it'd be your fault. He always said it wasn't and would caress your face as reassurance, but there's no excuse when he only kills these guys at school because they talk to you. And not for any other reason. You always have to be where the line is drawn.

"No, I can't go to prom with you." You say, chest lifting of the thousand pound weight that held it down. Travis didn't even look sad, he still had that adoring look in his eyes. And you then knew that he was faking all of this. "Why not? Is it because of Miles?" He stands, still holding your hand and shakes his head. "If he's bothering you, I could....get rid of him if you want. Cause that nigga, he a fucking weirdo. And he clearly, like, has you hostage or something, cause he ain't nothing special. Any one of us is better than him." He scoffs at the mention of him and his friends laugh with him.

You shake your head and take your hand away. "No, sorry, Travis. I just....don't wanna go." He rolls his eyes and smiles at you, picking up his sign. "Whatever. That's aight." He tosses it in the nearest trash can. You wonder if he even made that himself with the way he tossed it with zero regards. He turns back to you one last time and nods. "I'll holler. Let me know when you get rid of yo little guard dog. He be stinking the halls anyway."

And everyone dispersed.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You think this city is going to be the death of you with how many times you've gotten unwanted attention based on your looks. You tense up once more when you remember that Miles was calling you. The sudden silence after multiple calls was never a good thing. You yanked your phone out of your pocket and saw the 20-something missed calls and whispered to yourself in fear.

Immediately, you began your journey to his place.

His room was dark and cold. Only the light from outside his window illuminated it. You softly dropped your backpack into the usual corner and backed up to sit on his bed, but your back softly collided with a warm wall that also wrapped it's arms around your torso. You flinched as Miles exhaled in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder. "Miles, what the hell...."

He squeezes you a little and backs you both up, until he brings you to sit on his lap on his bed. He shifts you, so that you're facing him, his hand caressing your face and rubbing your back. "Hermosa como siempre, mami. How was your day?"(Beautiful as always, mami.) He whispers it to you, to calm you down. You're visibly nervous at his actions, expecting him to explode any minute.

"Um...it was alright. I did my project in 3rd period and got a coffee drink with my lunch. And..... I got asked to prom." You stare down at him, watching him scan you up and down, and let him 'check' your pockets before resting his hands on your waist. "Yeah? Who asked?" He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from you.

You severely struggled to tell him it was Travis. You were tired of him killing people. You were tired of the apologies from men who were beaten half to death because of you. You scrunched your eyebrows as your throat began to close.

"Hm?" He asked. You hated how calm he was about this. How he held you so dearly as you fidgeted with your uniform skirt. Tears built up in your eyes and you shook your head. Miles pulled you closer, immediately wiping your eyes. "No, no, por favor no llores, nena. No estés triste. I just want you to tell me who did it, that's all."(No, no, please don't cry, baby. Don't be sad.) You break into full out sobbing and wipe at your eyes.

"I don't- don't want to because you're gonna kill him!" You stutter and manage to spit out your words, voice wobbly. Miles shushes you and rocks you back and forth, resting your head on his chest. His voice rumbles in your ears when he speaks. "You don't have to worry about a thing when I'm here with you, N/n. All I want is for you to drop his name, and everything else doesn't matter."

He kisses your forehead sweetly, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. "Okay?" You nod and try to take deep breaths. You couldn't win against him. He probably already knew who proposed to you, and Travis's fate still wouldn't be unavoidable. "Travis." You felt immense guilt and despair the moment you dropped his name.

"Travis...." Miles repeats. Just putting his name in the air made him pissed all over again. He stays silent for a few seconds before tilting his head to the side. "I just realized why that name is so familiar," He starts. "That's that nigga who robbed and threatened you last year, ain't it?" Miles scoffs and turns to look at you. "Is that why you didn't leave when he brought up that sign? Cause of what he did to you?"

You scrunch your eyebrows at his words and sit up. "How do you know about that?" You didn't meet Miles until a month after you were robbed by Travis in your sophomore year. So, him knowing about that was weird, especially since you never brought it up to him before. Miles ignores your question and continues. "I should've known some shit was off." Miles places you on the bed and gets up, grabbing some clothes to change into.

You rush to stand in front of him to stop him. "Miles, wait! Please- please don't do this. He didn't even do anything to me. All he did is ask me out. I said no. What's wrong with that??"

"What's wrong with that is that nigga is gonna keep fucking getting at you until he can get into your pants, baby. I'm not stupid. These niggas know what they doin' riling you up and sending you back home to me crying and shit. Ain't you tired??" Miles begins to size you up, backing you towards his bedroom door, clothes clutched in his hand as he stares down at you.

"I am fucking tired. And I'm also tired of you ruining my life by making more rumors for niggas to spread about me. Nobody wants to be near me because of you, Miles!" You jab your finger into his chest and he grabs your hand. "You don't need nobody else." You hear his breathing speed up and realized you should've kept your mouth shut.

It's too damn silent for your liking. All you can hear is him and your heartbeat in your ears. "When the fuck have you ever needed anyone else besides me?.....I take care of you. I feed you, I do your fucking hair every morning, I walk you to and from school, I protect you. Es que no es suficiente?(Is that not enough?)" You don't respond and stare up into brown eyes that glare down at you. "How 'bout I show you how good you got it?" You try to pull your hand back, but his iron grip isn't letting up. "What.....? Miles, let me go."

"What's wrong, mi corazón? Don't wanna see?" Miles almost jokingly asks about your sudden concern. He steps into your space once more and firmly grabs your face. "Look at me when I tell you this,"

He shakes his head. "You don't know how to protect yourself. I'm the only one who knows how to keep you safe in these fucked up streets. When was the last time you felt protected before you met me? Huh? Cause I know you haven't. I'm meant to be here with you! I'm protecting you from the horrible fucking things that are happening out there that could've been happening to you, baby. You heard?"

You struggle to remove his hands from your face and he makes no move to stop the distress he's putting you in. "Okay, okay, Miles. Just...please stop."

Miles places a kiss onto your forehead before holding you in his arms. You sigh relief at the release of pressure and let him hold you. "Volveré pronto, okay? And then we can do whatever you want."(I'll be back soon) You allow yourself to relax and your eyes flutter shut. Sometimes you wonder how much it'll take for him to stop taking his obsession out on Brooklyn.

[kumiaku]

Kinktober Day 20 - Oral Fixation (Laios)

Kinktober Day 20 - Oral Fixation, Laios Touden x Reader, Dungeon Meshi

Masterlist

Misc. Tags - gn reader, blood is drawn but dw its just a nick from a knife, in true kumiaku fashion cannibalism is mentioned, oral fixation, finger sucking, comedy, shenanigans, laois is implied to be a virgin, cunnilingus/ass eating - hole is used for gn-ness, praise

WC - 1,135

Nsfw under cut

It was day two of being separated from the rest of the group, no Marcille, no Senshi, no Chilchuck, you were stuck with Laios. It wasn’t too bad, he was a very genuine person, but listening to his voice could become a bit grating after a while. You scrunched your mouth to the side as you continued to peel the potato looking thing you picked up, whilst Laios was busy telling you how it related to the man-eating plants and the ways in which it might’ve traveled down floors. 

You almost let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, some ache on either side of your temples felt as if your head was being squashed together, then your knife slipped - and you sucked in a sharp breath. A line of red cut diagonally across your finger tip, it didn’t hurt too bad, but it’d be hell until you could get it patched up by Marcille. Holding weapons, spoons, opening doors, every meaningless everyday task would be impeded by the slight ache. 

Laios paused his infodumping, your name leaving his lips as he walked over, peering at your bloody finger, “oh, that doesn’t look too good.” It was closer to a murmur than anything else as he grabbed hand with his warm hands and raised it up, holding it over your head. “You should keep it over your head, I think.” 

You nodded, turning your head to search for the bandages you had in your bag, “yeah, I got some bandages in my pack. It’ll be fine, ‘s not too deep.” 

It really didn’t hurt too badly, just felt warm, searing almost, and strange that the same sweltering liquid began to run down your finger. You looked back over briefly, only to see a slightly panicked look on Laios’ face and in the next second, he pulled your arm backwards and up, trapping your bleeding finger in his mouth. 

You let out some indignant squeak, anger blistering under your skin as you turned to him - only for it to be raked over the coals and instead leaving some low and slow simmering heat in your stomach. His mouth moved around your finger, tongue dragging across the cut and collecting the blood, scratching just enough for it to pinch but enough that it didn’t hurt. 

Whatever words you would’ve shouted left your mouth with your breath, lungs emptied as you stared at him, face burning with blood but not anger. Maybe it was some underlying admiration for Laios and his borderline unhinged knowledge and fascination for monsters, or maybe you were simply starving for touch after the past couple months, but damn that was hot. 

You openly stared at him, mouth ajar, until he opened his eyes and looked at you quizzically, pulling back and licking his lips... before speaking. “I thought you were getting the bandages.” 

If you were flushed before, you were glowing now, fumbling with your back and one hand quickly grabbing the bandages as if you weren’t just openly, and hungrily, staring at Laios. “Ahah, yeah, here!” You hand them off to him, hoping he doesn’t ask anymore questions - wait. 

You purse your lips as you watch him wrap the bandages around your small wound, most of the blood already cleaned up by Laios’ lips. Did you want him to ask more questions? This moment would surely haunt your dreams, so did you just want to take the chance given? 

You eyed the unfinished lunch preparations, then the small smile on Laios’ face. And a weight settled in your stomach as you sunk your decision into place. “Hey, Laios. How hungry are you?” 

“Hm - oh well, pretty hungry I’d say.” He released your hand and looked down at the preparations already made, “though a good amount of our ingredients were with Senshi, we were lucky to stumble upon those man eating plants earlier, but we have to skin all of them to prepare them, dice them, then use the-” 

“That sounds like a lot of work.” You interrupt him, pressing your lips out into a pout and your voice more secretive and sultry, “Y’know, you could eat me instead.” 

Laios paused, he slowly turned his head to the point where you could hear the gears grinding, tilting it then having the audacity to ask, “isn’t that cannibalism?” 

“NO!” You shook your head, hand coming up to your forehead, flush on your cheeks almost too much to bear, but you chose to just bear through it, you’d already come this far after all. “I meant - I meant like in a sexy way.” 

“Oh.” Laios closed his eyes and let out a semi-relieved sigh, then he paused, opening his eyes and locking his eyes to yours again. “OH.” 

It was like a switch had been flipped and his expression morphed into one of open mouthed redness. You watched him, letting the idea steep in his mind for a second, shifting your legs slightly from where you sat. 

“You mean - like -” Laios again tried to clarify, his shocked expression not exactly gone yet. 

You sucked in a breath and more confidently nodded, “yup, that’s what I mean. It’s up to you, of course, but it’s something I think I’d really enjoy.” 

“Wait - what brought this up?” Laios’ flush died down somewhat as his hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, his eyes having a hard time focusing on just you. “I mean - I would, will, I will but -”

“Your tongue.” You tap your finger to his mouth again, a small bit of pain resonates beneath the bandages, more than it hurt earlier, but dulled through sheer warmth settling in your lower stomach. “It was hot.” 

Laios nodded like he was studying your response, but it didn’t take long for him to sink to his knees before you, hands on your knees, spreading them with you. You positioned yourself accordingly, settling your weight differently but still trying to keep an eye on Laios as he removed your undergarments. 

He almost seemed to look at you for guidance for a couple seconds before resolving himself and experimentally flicking his tongue around your hole. You watched him with stifled breaths, before realizing that it would probably be better if you gave him more verbal encouragement. “That’s good.” You nodded, voice only a tad more breathy than usual. 

Your idea of praise did seem to work, as he was a bit more forthcoming, soft instructions from you leading to more vigor on Laios’ part as he worked to settle into this position. It wasn’t long before that accursed tongue of his truly began to take action inside of you and his voracious appetite was truly pushed to the front. His mouth seemingly a black hole devouring you and the moans that slipped from your lips.

[dunmeshistash]

in regards to skin tone variation in DM, i do think a lot of it is colorism/racism too. theres a few characters of color, but not many (just like how theres some fatter characters, but none of them are main characters (even senshi & other dwarves arent really depicted as fat)).

ryoko kui has surface representation for these people, but it lacks much substance, and the brown characters she does draw arent given brown facial features, and are almost always colored with very ashy skin. a lot of them just look like a recolored white person (especially cithis, kaka, & kiki). her random portraits of characters who dont actually appear in the series otherwise tend to be much better about this, but the actual characters that show up and play a part all seem to suffer from this issue.

im not saying kui is like, super-duper racist and we all need to stop reading DM etc etc, but i think its important to recognize and point out everyday/usually-overlooked colorism & racism when we see it, and i know im not the first or only person to point this out about her character designs. if she can draw fat people and actual brown people as part of the portraits, why cant she or wont she do the same for any of the featured characters in the series?

(i know the orcs are fat, but its not a good thing the only consistently fat people are the ones who are a fantasy race based off of violent racial stereotypes, who are also pig people, while none of the main cast of "real" humans are fat except *maybe* the dwarves, who still have small waists and flat stomachs, and the lord of the island, who is depicted as corrupt & decadent)

Well yeah.

I'm just a lore blog so I don't like to get too into real life issues or make assumptions about how the author feels about these subjects. What I talked about on the skin tone post was assumptions as to why she thought it would be important to show skin tone variations on certain races as a character design choice. (In the sense that her character design is very purposeful)

I realize some people over praise Kui's designs when most of it is pretty safe for what it is, but even if it's just a step closer to better representation it's something that's rare to see in anime. So I understand why some people get so excited about it.

It is important to realize this isn't the ideal either (Dark skinned characters with the same features as the others, mostly well build characters on the thinner side) but I personally don't like to criticize these type of stories on what it "could/should have been".

As someone who is fat and not white, I'm happy we get some diversity in dungeon meshi. I hope this opens up the possibility of better character design in the future even if what we got now wasn't perfect.

It shouldn't be the case that this piece of art filled me with so much joy I teared up cause I had never seen someone with a similar body to mine drawn with so much respect and objectivity. But unfortunately that's the world we live in and I don't think it's wrong to be happy for what we get for now while acknowledging it's not perfect and that it should be better.

I'm also super happy the anime chose to make the dark characters even darker.

[awriterinthenight]

"I Might Even Be In Love With You"

requested: anonymous

words: 1233

warning: swearing, that's really it besides the two idiots being oblivious af

summary: Fred Weasley is obsessed with you, a Hufflepuff student, but he's too afraid to admit it, and you're too afraid to admit you love him too

If you looked up the word 'obsessed' in the dictionary, you would find a very distressed picture of Fred Weasley. Fred was obsessed, and every synonym for the word. His entire day revolved around a Hufflepuff girl, who was now the only reason he believed the world still spun. Fred now truly believed nothing mattered before he met her. All that mattered was that she was here now and it was as if he was attached by a red string that kept him tethered to her.

You were everything to Fred and he made sure to keep a firm grip on you. He would be damned if he let you be the one that got away. He might've taken this a bit too literally, since he always had a hand on you.

When you sat together at breakfast when you snuck over to the Gryffindor table, Fred either had his arm around you, or his hand on your thigh, which was becoming more common the longer you knew him. When you hung out with your friends his arm was either around your waist, or he was holding your hand. In class together he would move your chair closer to his, once again resting his hand on your leg, or his arm on the back of your chair.

Fred was notorious for being late to class, but you didn't know that. Fred would walk with you, his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the corridor, to all your classes.

"Aren't you going to be late to your own classes?" you would ask, concerned he would be late, even though he'd rather skip class just to be with you, but this was his best option.

He knew you'd tell him to stop walking you to class if he told you the truth, so he continued to lie, "My class is just down the hall, it's fine, love," he would say, starting to call you 'love' more often.

You reluctantly accepted that he would walk you to class everyday as long as he wasn't late for his own classes. Fred had become your own personal shadow, which you didn't hate. You enjoyed Fred's presence, and how wherever he was you were immediately drawn to him. It was his laugh, or the way he made everyone around him laugh. The smile that was always on his face, or the way he put a smile on everyone's face. Everything about him was perfect to you.

He made you smile, laugh, feel safe around him, and every time he touched you in some way it gave you butterflies. You had the biggest crush, if it was even that anymore, it was more like you were irreparably in love with him. The only thing was that even though it seemed obvious, you still didn't think Fred returned your feelings for him. Anyone sane would say it was obvious, but to you Fred was always laughing and joking with everyone, the same way he was with you, just maybe less touchy, so you didn't know if he liked you or not, and decided to play it safe.

Luckily your friends were also fed up with you and Fred doing the world's most complicated dance to avoid saying your feelings for each other while also putting them all on display for each other. Angelina was currently trying to knock some sense into you, as the two of you hung out in her dorm room that you snuck into.

"When will you accept that he's obsessed with you, and you both are crazy in love with each other, and will one day be married with 5 kids," Angelina said, annoyed by how you were so blind to all of this.

You let out a sigh, "We don't actually know that, and shut up with the whole 5 kids thing, I swear you add one more each time we have this conversation," you told her, putting your head in your hands.

Angelina was moments away from knocking some sense into you, literally, but lucky for you Katie walked in the room, "Katie, please tell our oblivious friend here, that Fred Weasley is in love with her, and there's no denying it," Angelina said, desperate to get her friend to finally come to the realisation.

Katie looked like she'd just been told the most outrageous thing ever, which she just had, "How do you not see that he's completely in love with you. I mean he's late to class almost everyday because of you-" she cut herself off, but not fast enough to realise her mistake.

Your head sprung up, shocked by her words, "What do you mean he's late to class because of me?"

"Well, the thing is," Katie started, looking a bit nervous, "He told us not to tell you because he knew if you found out you'd stop him from walking you to class, so he had us not tell you," she explained, looking apologetic for letting the secret slip.

"Wait, but why would he do that unless," you said, the lightbulb in your head finally turning on, "I'll be right back," you were not going to be back actually. Angelina was finally relieved that you finally realised, so much so that she was on the verge of throwing a party.

You found Fred talking to George in an empty corridor. Fred saw you and ushered for George to leave, so that it was just you and Fred, "Hello, love, what can I do for you?" he asked, leaning against the wall with his trademark smile on his face.

"You lied to me," you stated, causing him to look confused, then realise what you were talking about.

Fred continued to smile at you, but pushed off the wall moving closer to you, "I'm sorry, love, but I just knew if I told you the truth you'd make me stop walking you to class," he defended.

You crossed your arms, "But why did you do it?" you asked, needing to confirm the truth before you said it out loud.

"Lie to you? I told you why, you'd make me stop-" he said, deflecting from the question, since he knew what you truly meant.

"No, I mean why did you walk me to class even if you knew you'd be late."

Fred let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding in, "I-I, I don't know I just like walking you to class, since I-I," he said, continuing to stumble a bit, which was unusual, "I really like you, I might even be in love with you," he confessed.

You were shocked and at a loss for words, but tried to pull yourself together as best as possible, "I really like you too, love you even," you confessed also, beaming from how overjoyed you felt.

Fred moved even closer to you, wrapping his hands around your waist, leaning in a bit, "There's usually something two people do when they're in love with each other," Fred hinted at playfully.

"Oh yeah, and what's that," you teased. Fred wasted no time connecting your lips together. Your hands found the back of his head, running them through his hair, while his hands stayed on your waist. Both of your torments were finally over. You could be in love forever, and in the words of Angelina get married and have 6 kids.

[vii0so]

[BSD 120] Theory/Analysis

These are my first thoughts on parts of chapter 120. It includes my personal interpretations and theories of certain things.

Warning: Spoilers ahead

█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

1. Akutagawa & "True strength"

In my previous theory, I believed Rashoumon was in control of Aku's body (hence the old speech and clothing choice).

In BSD, abilities are the soul. "True strength" and "within yourself" could point to Rashoumon.

It could be that Akutagawa has inherited the purpose of his ability (Rashoumon). Therefore unlocking its full potential and or memories. Hence the drastic change that Atsushi sees.

The "purpose" stuff was another thing I briefly mentioned in my previous theory. In short: Purpose = job (e.g. the bookmark)

"This blade serves the heavens"

This blade = "I" (Akutagawa/Rashoumon)

The heavens = probably "the book"

"This soul follows the path of righteousness"

This soul = Rashoumon

This would mean: Rashoumon is righteous.

"The path of the knight"

Knight = Protector/Defender

This could mean Rashoumon is the book's protector.

So his purpose could be the book's "Knight", just like Atsushi is the book's "Bookmark".

If we want to say it in book terms, it'd be the book's cover.

─────────────✧

"Idea. Will. All are empty."

This is directed at Akutagawa. Saying that he has no individual thoughts or will, he is just an empty shell.

I believe this can be seen as saying "You're a puppet."

This could mean that the current Akutagawa is like this because his role as the "knight" is needed (A god-level threat to the book has appeared and needs to be dealt with).

Meaning, it could very well be his soul's (Rashoumon's) purpose (the knight) has taken control. Making him a puppet with the only thing moving him being his purpose.

─────────────✧

███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

2. The higher dimension

First off: If we think of the real world where we are, then the BSD universe would be a "lower dimension" to us.

In BSD, the book can change/shape their world and therefore is part of the "higher dimension"

Basically, anything that doesn't follow the law of abilities and/or our everyday normal earth standards, can be considered as a higher dimensional being/thing.

As Fyodor explained: Stabbing a page will "kill" the character drawn on it. No matter how OP they are, they will never be able to perceive our dimension (reality) and therefore will not be able to stop it.

To make it easier: An author can write a story where the mc faces an enemy and dies. The author controlled the story/fate of the mc. The mc would never be able to stop that from happening.

...Actually this example would be closer to what the book does...they are a similar plane of existence but not the same. Fyodor's example is better for Ame-no-Gozen though.

─────────────✧

Let's think of it the other way around to better explain:

In short: if you were to write/draw a character, that character would never directly be able to harm you or interact with you. That's because we're in a higher dimensional plane of existence.

Stories may just be fiction to us but to the characters they are real, just like life for us is real.

When a character becomes aware that there is a higher dimension/they are in a story, they still can't physically/directly interact with our world. The most they can do, is "break the 4th wall" and indirectly interact with the audience (e.g. talking to/looking at the camera/us).

─────────────✧

Random:

The book is a higher plane of existence than anything in the BSD universe. Hence why anything written in it becomes the truth.

Ame-no-Gozen is a lower dimension than the book.

Therefore, if someone wrote Ame-no-Gozen out of existence in the book, it would be considered true and he'd be gone.

─────────────✧

█████▒▒▒▒▒

3. Fyodor's Plane

This entire "plane to board" thing has had me worried since the previous chapter.

I know they want us to think of this:

But it still feels odd. He gets on that, becomes undetectable. Is that what he's really planning to do though?

He says it's not his concern (whether they live or die) but it seems like a definite lie. In one way or another, it matters.

He seems to be in a hurry. It doesn't seem fake, in actuality it seems like he's trying to hide how urgently he needs to leave.

He completely dropped the whole "Dazai wasn't it so I'll just take Atsushi" and switched to "I don't care whether any of you die".

Honestly, he probably decided to drop the "other half" stuff when he realised Atsushi didn't have the same thoughts as the tiger.

And the "idc what happens to you lol" is more like "I need to leave quickly so let's stop here" which shows urgency.

Which means, Fyodor has somewhere to be...and fast.

Okay, this next theory is a long shot even for me, but what if he needs to get to Sigma before he wakes up?

Don't ask me why, I'm not sure. But it sure is something to think about. It's time-sensitive and we're aware that Sigma hasn't woken up yet. It seems to fall into place with the urgency.

─────────────✧

███████▒▒▒

4. Fukuzawa's Survival

This seems like a challenge to battle but Fukuzawa knew there was no way of fighting Ame-no-Gozen. So who is he challenging?

Fyodor.

Yep, Fukuzawa will fight Fyodor...

All the people (including me) that believed Fukuzawa will die at some point in the story, might be right after this battle.

Why does he say it like that?

And why does he look like he hesitated?

I checked the Japanese and it's: 特には (toku-ni-ha)

Which means:

Note: The "ha" (pronounced "wa") is a particle.

Fyodor, what do you mean?! Is it that you care about his survival "in particular" or "not particularly"? (...I should just leave this to those who are fluent in Japanese. I'm overcomplicating stuff again.)

Anyway, I feel like there's more to this than what we're seeing (Or maybe I just forgot something...)

─────────────✧

5. Where's Rampo?

...no, seriously, where is he during all this?

He's probably doing stuff in the background to help fix this situation but we haven't even seen a glimpse of him since Fyodor came back.

Maybe we'll see him during the Fyodor vs Fukuzawa fight.

─────────────✧

██████████ Completed!

TLDR:

Akutagawa is basically Rashoumon right now.

Akutagawa is the book's "cover" (protector/knight)

Higher & lower dimension = Pretty much the same difference between us and any character in BSD.

Fyodor may need to get to Sigma before he wakes up. Hence the urgency to leave the fight.

Fukuzawa might die fighting Fyodor.

[trilobitepunch]

In Essence, the Behavior of Siblings

The Grounds were more than what the simple name implied. Formally it was known as Ma no Michi, or "The Way Between," but over time it had been considerably nicknamed and shortened for the common ground that it was. 

It was a small town that stretched between two worn torii for less than two miles. The structures that flanked either side of the street were of wood and looked much like a typical town, interspersed with market stalls and a general busyness that gave the place an overall constant festival atmosphere.

The strangest thing about the place was that it was entirely populated by yōkai; merchants, residents and most of those passing through. Indeed, there at times could be seen actual humans amongst the visitors, a rarity to be sure, but there were some whom yōkai had been able to trust, and having this link helped them, especially those who only wished to live peacefully in a land where human influence continued to grow.

Not any human could enter the Grounds. Most avoided the torii path, rumors that some unwitting wanderers vanished once passing beneath the flaking red gates. Others said that there was nothing on the other side, just as empty a stretch of road as what one perceived from before and beyond, but it was an unsettling stillness that plagued them until they reached the opposite gateway. They had no 'key' to truly open the way.

"You all have your omamori?" Yoshi asked, turning towards his unusual sons as they drew closer to the torii. A chorus of confirmations came and he smiled before turning, tucking away his own charm into his sleeve. 

The sensation was a bit disorienting when you possessed a 'key' and stepped through. The world beyond the torii was full of life and sound as one would expect upon entering a town. Leaving was just as strange, releasing a person back into the stillness of an otherwise empty roadway. 

Sannan disliked passing through the gates. Yoshi always waited until his second youngest came through, always last, shoulders hunched up in preparation, shuddering once he had stepped through and flicking his tail as though to fully disperse the feeling. He claimed it felt like something crawling over him. Jinan told him he was just crazy.

"Here we are, my sons," Yoshi said, laying a reassuring hand upon Sannan's shoulder as he guided him along after the others. He had to be quick before Yotsuo would go wandering off. "We will meet back here in an hour so that we can all get a meal together."

"Haaaai!"

"Of course, otō-sama."

"Got it, oyaji."

"We'll see you later."

Yoshi watched as the four went off with a quirk of a smile as Yotsuo abruptly went dashing off as something inevitably caught his attention. Sannan gave an exasperated sigh before he went after him. The boys enjoyed these outings, so Yoshi was more than happy to give them the opportunity to explore before they got down to business matters. As he was about to turn, he caught Chōnan's eye upon him and he paused, giving him a nod. Just because this was a place of yōkai, it didn't mean they should entirely let their guard down.

~~~

"Uuuuuwaaaa! Look at that, San-nii! It looks like ice!" Yotsuo marveled as his eyes fell upon a curious plate amongst a mismatched collection of ceramics. As annoying as it was feeling like he always somehow ended up having to watch his little brother, he didn't mind it too much. Yotsuo often tended to find the most interesting things in the marketplace.

"Don't touch it," he said as he came up beside him to see what had drawn Yotsuo's attention. "It's very delicate. Glass, I think."

"Right you are, little Hamato," chuckled the vendor, which made Sannan involuntarily tense. He didn't like that they were so identifiable, even though he knew that many who resided in the Grounds looked to the Hamato whenever trouble occurred. "Not very practical for everyday use, but it is very pretty to look at."

Yotsuo made a disappointed sound as Sannan caught his hand just before he could lift the plate's edge with a claw. "Thank you," the latter said with a bow of his head towards the vendor before guiding his all too curious brother away. He was fully prepared to counter any complaints but largely unsurprised when that familiar look passed across Yotsuo's face, a sure sign that he'd found something else to investigate. Sighing, again Sannan prepared to follow, pausing however to shoot a look towards the nearby rooftop with something of a scowl, but he wasn't long in drifting after the youngest.

~~~

From above, Jinan watched the two. He had an hour and they'd just got here, so he wasn't in any particular hurry to look around. Besides, it was funny watching Sannan get dragged about by Yotsuo, and Jinan was simply glad that it wasn't him. He ducked back against the roof with a grimace when he saw his twin turn his head right in his direction. 

"Tch, how does he do that?" Jin muttered.

As his brothers wandered out of sight, Jinan turned to pick his way across the shingles before dropping down to the street. 

"Oh! Where did you come from?" 

The voice made him jump, and he spun around to see a peddler stooped beside her box of wares. She smiled as she removed her broad straw hat. "Ah, I have returned the favor, I see."

"-sorry, guess I should have double-checked where I was landing," Jinan murmured as he scratched the back of his head, giving an awkward sort of bow.

"No harm done. I haven't set up yet, but I did not think anyone would be passing by from above," the peddler said as she resumed pulling things from her box to set out at the stall there on the corner. He'd heard that traveling merchants were able to rent a space if they wanted, and the marketplace at the Grounds was a popular place to find unusual and interesting things. "What are you selling?" he asked.

"Incense," the peddler replied, smiling enigmatically as she set a shallow dish down, holding up a slender stick. She didn't seem particularly bothered as Jinan's expression flattened along with his equally disinterested, "Oh."

"It isn't for everyone," she admitted, continuing to put out her wares. Samples and tiny censers, small bundles of sticks. She paused in pulling more items out long enough to light one of the sticks and set it in a bowl of ash, gently blowing out the flame and leaving a wispy trail of smoke that snaked lazily in the air. Jinan caught a whiff, humming thoughtfully as she watched him almost expectantly. "It's nice, but yeah, not my thing. Good luck in your sales," he said, waving a hand as he went on his way.

~~~

"Great job, Chō. How're you supposed to keep an eye out on your brothers when you can't even find them?" the big yōkai sighed at himself. It had scarcely been two minutes and he'd somehow lost sight of all of them at once. In his distraction to catch sight of at least one of them, he'd also lost track of his dad. 

"It's fine. They've all gotta be around here somewhere. This place isn't that big." He started along the main road, for that was the only way to go.

"Oh, Chō-chan! Looking for your brothers again?" an elderly yōkai greeted him with a gentle chuckle. This was hardly a first-time occurrence. 

"A little. You haven't by chance seen any of them?"

"Hmm. I thought I saw the little one head towards the pottery stalls."

"Should have figured as much. Thanks, baachan," Chōnan sighed, giving a quick bow before he started in that direction.

"Ah, before you go, at least take something to nibble on. Have to keep up the energy if you're going to catch those brothers of yours," the old one cackled, holding out a red bean-filled pastry. Some of the anxiousness from Chōnan's face relaxed as he accepted it, smiling that snaggle-toothed smile of his that hadn't seemed to change despite the years. And then off he went, taking care not to completely shove the thing into his mouth.

He caught a face full of incense smoke as he rushed on by, nearly choking as he tried to save his precious bean-paste bun. His clawed hands flailed about in the air as he juggled the thing while simultaneously trying to wave away the smell before successfully managing to cradle the little pastry in his palms. An amused sort of sound caught his ear just then, and he flashed a sheepish smile at the vendor at the incense booth before he continued on his way.

~~~

"Do you like this one?"

"No."

"How about this?"

"No."

"Well I'm sure you'd approve of this one at least!"

"Not even close."

"Oh come on, San-nii! Why won't you pick any?" Yotsuo pouted, tossing his hands up before he tucked them tightly beneath his armpits in that sulky pose only a little brother scorned could pull off.

"Lack of use, for one. I think you'd definitely need hair," Sannan pointed out, having long built up an immunity to such looks as he poked a clawed fingertip at the dangling ends of a delicate kanzashi. It was a very pretty hair decoration, at least that much he would agree on. 

"What about for Karai-obasan?" Yotsuo pushed, head lifting with just a touch of hopefulness. It was quickly dashed by a pragmatic shake of Sannan's own head.

"Obasama doesn't need those sorts of things. It'd just get in the way. If you really want to get her something, let's look for something useful," he suggested in order to allay his little brother's anticipated objections. It did the job of getting him to stop sulking at the very least.

"Okay! That does make sense. What do you suggest then?" Yotsuo asked, reaching out to tug his brother along. The sooner they started moving again, the sooner they might find …whatever it is they might be looking for!

"A knife is pretty useful…"

"Saaaaaaan…."

Yotsuo dropped his brother's hand as his pout returned. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised at the suggestion. Sannan was pretty practical about those sorts of things, but then that did explain why Sannan usually still had something to spend later on when the rest of his brothers ended up with strange trinkets and stomachs full from snacks.

"-oh wait, what's that smell?" And off he was bounding again, as though their previous discourse hadn't occurred, another reason Sannan hadn't really worried about truly upsetting his brother. This was all rather typical, after all.

He caught up to Yotsuo at what appeared to be an incense vendor. A traveling merchant, Sannan guessed, as he by now knew most of the regulars, and there weren't many who specialized in such a thing here in the Grounds. The woman at the stall smiled amiably at the two, a humanoid yōkai so far as he could identify, the sort who could easily pass among humans without garnering suspicion. "Greetings. Do feel free to sample my wares. I have prepared them all myself," she said.

"Ohhhh, this one smells nice. You might not like it though, San. It's a little strong."

"Hn," Sannan replied, but he took a polite sniff anyway, if only to satiate his curiosity. "Sandalwood," he guessed, inwardly proud of himself when he noticed the slight lift of a brow from the merchant. She smiled wanly, nodding. "So it is," she confirmed, looking on with interest as Yotsuo instantly took this as a sign to test his brother's skill, picking up one of the incense wafers from another dish.

Ah, this one he knew well, even if it was a little overstated, but he supposed that was the point of incense. He managed not to wrinkle his snout. "Wisteria," he said, thinking of the wild grove he liked to retreat to when he wanted some space for himself.

"You are very skilled in identifying these," the merchant laughed. "You would do well at incense gatherings. Now, how about this one?" She brought up from behind the booth an incense stick that had already been lit, standing in a bowl of ash, and with a fanning of her hand, sent the wisping trail of scent towards them. 

Sannan looked a little put off at the fact that the merchant seemed to be getting in on this game Yotsuo had started, but he sniffed at it all the same. He squinted, shaking his head as he snorted out a breath. Too perfumed for his tastes. "Some blend of aloeswood," he said, unable to keep from wrinkling his snout then. It didn't seem like his response had offended the merchant at least, but her attention had seemed to shift to Yotsuo at that point.

"That is the main part of it," she conceded, looking back at Sannan and somewhat startled to find him already eyeing her intently. He frowned a little, nudging Yotsuo with an elbow. "Come on, Yo-chan. If we keep stopping at everything then it'll already be time to meet back with the others."

"Huh-? O-oh!" Yotsuo blinked, shaking his head a bit before he smiled brightly at Sannan. "You're right. Um, thank you," he said as he turned his attention back to the vendor with a bow of his head. Sannan dropped a hand on his shoulder to steer him along after offering his own bow, his attention lingering just slightly longer until they were caught along in the next flow of foot traffic.

~~~

"All right, what kind of junk did you buy this time?" Jinan asked as he rested his elbows on the low table before them. He yelped as Yoshi swatted them off, straightening his posture before the man could go off about manners and this not being their house.

"Nothing," Yotsuo pouted before the words sunk in, and he shot a glare across the table at Jinan. "And it's not junk! They're just…things that don't have any immediate usefulness," he said, doing his best Sannan impression. Even Jinan had to laugh at that, as did Chōnan. Yoshi was doing his best to hide a grin behind his hand, coughing into a fist when his second youngest shot him a look.

"That's fine, it just means we have more to spend on food," Chōnan said eagerly, which surprised absolutely no one at the table.

"Only you would be able to still be hungry despite the amount of handouts you've likely accumulated." Sannan could be ruthless when he wanted to be, but his tone bore no edge, so he was clearly teasing as only he could. It really wasn't any big secret that their eldest brother was a favorite amongst the old snack and pastry artisans, and to some extent they were a bit jealous.

Yoshi waved his hands with an exasperated sigh. "Okay, okay, that's enough! You'll have time to look around again afterwards, but first, I think we could all do for something to eat." He went ahead and made a request for their food, then took up his teacup once Sannan had poured for them all. His son still disliked tea, but he felt that he was still partaking somehow by at least helping serve it.

"So, what's the job, oyaji?" Jinan asked, swirling his tea around. "Do you need us?"

Savoring his own tea, Yoshi shook his head. "Minor tsukumogami case. I might need you though, Chō. Supposedly we'll be dealing with a large, cast-iron pot."

"What a perfectly good thing to let go to waste," Sannan commented. "No wonder it's upset. Maybe it'll calm down if Jin gives it a good scrubbing."

"Oh please-"

"Actually, that isn't a bad idea. Jin, you come with us too," Yoshi decided, sipping his tea while Jinan tried to decide who to be angry at. In the end he closed his mouth as he worked out this clever trap of his twin; if he objected then Sannan would likely be voluntold for suggesting it, and then that would mean Jinan would have to accompany Yotsuo in his wild marketplace browsing. It really was a no-win situation as far as Jinan was concerned, so he grumbled something that was neither agreement nor protest and that was that.

Yoshi was however right in one thing; a good meal certainly did the trick in lightening the mood and sour spirits. At least, temporarily.

~~~

"Did you see anything you wanted to look at?" Yotsuo asked as he and Sannan once again found themselves wandering the main road. 

"Not particularly," Sannan replied, even as his eyes drifted over the various stalls, seeking out guest peddlers. They often brought the most interesting things, or at least had some interesting stories to tell.

At least there was one stall they always made sure to stop by. Sho-ojiisan liked when they brought back some senbei, claiming they were the best rice crackers he'd ever had. The boys secured a box and were given an extra treat apiece, crunching on the savory sweetness as they continued their marketplace perusal.

They passed the incense seller again, and she smiled brightly as she beckoned them over with a hand.

"Are you closing shop already?" Yotsuo asked, noting that much of her wares had already been packed away. 

"Oh, not just yet, but the heat is a bit much for me and the scent doesn't carry as well now that the sun is so high. Mornings are so much better for sales." She gave a small shrug. "I did wish to ask a favor of you both. Particularly you, young sir, for I'd like the opinion of your sharp nose."

Sannan frowned a little, more so as Yotsuo echoed, "Sharp nose, hehe..!" He shut his brother up with a sharp elbow. "What sort of opinion? Surely you know the scent of your own wares, so I doubt it's for identification."

"A sharp tongue and wit as well," the merchant laughed. "No, I would like to know what someone might think of a new scent I've been working on. I'm trying to get the mixture just right, and I think it's close, but I need something more." She gestured to the building behind her. "I am renting a room at the back. The screen is open, so if you wouldn't mind helping me carry these there at the very least?"

The brothers looked at each other, the smaller one smiling brightly while the other sighed. "I suppose we have time to help," Sannan conceded, Yotsuo already bouncing over to pick up some of the merchant's things.

It didn't take too long, especially when most of it was packed in the box, which Sannan picked up and was silently impressed that anyone would walk around with it on their back. The weight wasn't unmanageable, but he imagined it added quite a burden to anyone traveling distances for any amount of time. He set it down in the room, a small space suitable enough for sleeping in. Yotsuo had already invited himself to sit there at the edge while the merchant eventually joined them. She had a few bowls of what Sannan guessed were ingredients, laid out on the tatami. 

"Please make yourselves comfortable. This will not take long," the merchant said as she sorted through things. "Little one, please pull that screen closed. Not all the way," she added, catching Sannan's eye. "I just don't want to dilute the fragrances too much. Here," she said as she held out one of the bowls to him.

"Aloeswood is too strong," Sannan was quick to comment after a whiff. He glanced over as Yotsuo took a sniff. "Is it supposed to be different?"

"Oh dear, I barely added any aloeswood. I was hoping it would accent the scent rather than overpower it. I thought perhaps some fresh senses would be able to pick it out," the woman frowned. "Perhaps it will blend better once it is lit. Sometimes it takes on a different characteristic. I have a sample stick."

She slipped it out, setting it in a holder before lighting the end with a flame and quickly putting it out, fanning it with her sleeve as the thin white wisp unfurled from its tip.. 

Both boys dutifully took a sniff. "Hn…  No, the aloeswood is still prevalent," Sannan admitted, brow furrowing. "But there's…something else. Kind of bitter-smelling. I can't…"

His vision blurred and refused to clear no matter how much he blinked. This…this is… Alarm flashed in his mind, and he shot a glare at the incense maker as he lurched to his feet. They gave out from beneath him before he could even pull them into position, his vision swimming as he hit the floor, but he could barely make out the yōkai woman who had slipped on a cloth mask.

"Breathe deep, little Hamato," she said quietly as she stood over him. Sannan in fact tried to do the exact opposite, his muscles tensed but otherwise struggling to follow through with what he wanted them to do. His head felt like a lead weight as he tried to lift it, trying to push himself up. Beside him he was vaguely aware that Yotsuo had also collapsed, his brother's gaze unfocused as he lay there.

"Hm. Perhaps I did not use enough, or your resilience is just that much more impressive." Her cold tone was at odds with her words and a striking contrast to how she had spoken to them earlier. "Well, no matter. I will be done soon enough." She stepped back towards her things, picking out another slender stick of incense, which she stood in the bowl of ash and lit, placing it between the two.

Sannan couldn't even move his mouth, every muscle quivering with the effort. The scent that replaced the first was unfamiliar to him, but it reminded him of the heavy scents that hung about human temples. The smoke from it seemed thicker, suspended there as it wove itself through the air of the small room. It wreathed him and Yotsuo like some alive thing.

"You know, my brother was one of those who had answered the call and gone up to the mountain, long ago," the incense merchant said, speaking as though they were all still holding such a normal conversation. Even though his mind felt as foggy as the bluish smoke that swam about the room, Sannan recognized the sound of metal ringing, as a blade pulled from its sheath. His eyes widened into slits, his mind screaming at the rest of his body to cooperate.

"He went up," the yōkai woman continued, unaware of the boy's internal struggle. "But he did not return. As did many. I told him not to go, but he was proud. Arrogant. Weren't you, ani-ue?" She sighed, watching the smoke that came up from the incense stick as she thought of her brother. "This will reveal what I have lost. Come back to me, my brother. Come back and I will set you free from whatever has bound you to these…"

She had turned to look between them then, and Sannan tried desperately to grasp at the dots to connect the information she was imparting. The mountain…the disappearing yōkai. A sacrifice and a blood red moon...

Every muscle protested, every nerve felt like it was on fire, but Sannan felt himself moving finally. He wasn't the only one surprised, barely registering the merchant's shock through his hazy sight before he collided with her. Distantly he thought he heard the blade fall to the ground.

"How-?!" she started to exclaim, her hands closing around his shoulders to push him off, only to stop as she stared past the younger yōkai. "No… Why isn't it… But he has to be…!"

For a moment longer she stared at the stream of smoke that filled the room as though to discern some sort of secrets from it. In truth, there was nothing, nothing at all but the smoke. 

His eyelids were heavy, but that stubborn part of him clung to consciousness by a thread. He felt something warm and damp soak into his hood, and he thought he heard a sob from the woman. It was with far more care than Sannan expected of her when she resumed moving him from off of her. Every touch felt like pins and needles, all his limbs felt like they weighed as much as the logs his eldest brother would help carry in preparation of the winter storms. He heard the sound of the screen being pushed open again, a breath of fresh air coming from outside, dispersing the smoke and the cloying scent of the incense. 

"I am sorry…" The apology was so soft that it could have been a dream, that line of reality blurring with each second as he found it harder and harder to stay awake.

~~~

Yotsuo awoke with a gasp, pulling himself up so abruptly and instantly regretting it. "Careful, careful my son," a familiar voice said beside him, warm hands guiding his head back to the pillow he had been lying on. Yotsuo winced, the light feeling like it was stabbing at his eyes, and he squeezed them shut again with a whimper.

"I am sorry," he heard another somewhat familiar voice say. They sounded farther away, and Yotsuo felt his father's hand pause for but a moment where it had moved to stroke his head. "I used a stronger dosage because I thought… I did not realize that they were actually children…" 

"They are my sons," Yoshi said, his voice carefully level as he shifted his gaze between his youngest boys. Sannan had been in and out of consciousness, his head cradled in Jinan's lap as his twin held him protectively, not bothering to hide the glares he cast in the incense merchant's direction. Chōnan sat between them and the woman, but Yoshi could tell that it was as much to keep his younger brother from doing anything irrational as it was to intimidate the other yōkai.

"I have only heard rumors. I did not know what to believe. But I had hoped that my brother…that something of him still existed. I thought that they were trapped, those souls, those yōkai who had disappeared in the mountains. And these two reacted to my special blend of incense. My brother always favored it. I thought…" 

She flinched away at another glare from Jinan, and Yoshi raised his hand towards his son before he nodded at her to continue.

"...I thought his spirit might dwell in one of them. I wanted to free him, bring him home," she said sorrowfully, her head bowed. "I saw how these two cared for each other, but I thought I had come too far to abandon my brother now. …but nothing manifested in the smoke. His soul is not here." She hesitated, lifting her head to force herself to meet their eyes. She owed this much to them.

"They hold no souls of the past. It grieves me to admit it, since I do not know what has become of my brother's, but so far as I can tell, your sons are no one but themselves. Again, I am sorry," she said, prostrating herself to underline her sincerity. 

Jinan glanced at Chōnan, and the two looked to Yoshi then. He had to wonder if his sons had ever thought about it before. Indeed, a small knot was loosened in his own chest that he hadn't realized had been there. Yoshi turned his own eyes back to the incense merchant, bowing his head in silent acknowledgment for what she had told them. He could not quite offer her a thank you, not after she'd threatened his sons, but this was still more than what he thought they would come away with. And still he could not allow himself to be completely at ease. If one yōkai had been so convinced that his sons might have some connection to one of those who had been used in that terrible ritual, then there could be others…

~~~

Sannan hadn't woken up until the following morning, groggy and unable to get to his feet, complaining that every movement made him feel prickly. Yotsuo was only slightly better, still subjected to dizzy spells to the point that Chōnan insisted he carry him and Sannan. While it wasn't the first night they'd spent over at the Grounds, Yoshi didn't want to stay any longer than necessary, and the boys would be more comfortable and safe back at home. He did not however look forward to having to recount what had happened.

"Aaaah…what a mess," he muttered, running a hand through his unkempt hair. He held the bundle with Sho-jiisan's senbei, leading his sons back towards the torii. 

The incense merchant had left earlier than they had, her wares packed up and the little room she'd rented, completely vacated. Although they'd parted on neutral terms, Yoshi knew such news would travel, for better or worse. There would be some who wouldn't be pleased with what she had attempted. But there would be others, he suspected, who would be just as interested.

"What a mess," he repeated under his breath. 

Birdsong and the buzzing of bugs replaced the morning hum of the Grounds once they passed through the gate, depositing them back on an empty roadway. 

"I'm sorry, otōsama."

Yoshi stopped, turning to look over at Sannan, his second youngest curled tightly against the oldest's chest. His eyes were open at least, his senses slowly readjusting, a far-away look on his face, although Yoshi could guess that those thoughts were turned inwards. Yoshi's own expression softened.

"It was not your fault, Sannan," he said as he raised a hand to rest on his son's arm. He suppressed a frown as he saw the slim yōkai shudder under his touch. The incense maker had said the effects should wear off, the paralysis not meant to be long-term, but it had only been proven on pure-blooded yōkai. He let his hand fall away, but continued to walk beside Chōnan, Jinan flanking his brother's opposite side as he kept an eye on their surroundings. Laid back as his second oldest tended to be, Yoshi knew he could always count on him, especially when the safety of his brothers had been threatened.

Sannan had fallen silent again, not particularly reassured, but he moved his head slightly as he felt another hand slip over his own. He looked across at where Yotsuo practically nestled in the crook of Chōnan's other arm, his little brother offering a smile as only he could, one that never diminished in brightness no matter what bad things happened. Sannan took it as forgiveness for failing to keep him safe, even though he knew Yotsuo wouldn't have faulted him for any such thing. As tiring and uncomfortable as it felt to put any effort into moving, Sannan curled his webbed fingers around his brother's hand.

Yoshi smiled faintly. This was another lesson learned, and he was only thankful that nothing worse had happened. He and his boys would all return home, and while there were still some lingering concerns, that was something that they would all get through, together.

"Come, my sons. We still have a ways to go."

[agaypanic]

They're open yay omg!! Ok I had a cute idea for Rodrick Heffley if you're up for it! :)

Rodrick x Male!Reader where reader sings him 'boyfriend' by Big Time Rush the same way that Rodrick sang 'baby' by Justin Bieber for that one girls birthday (I literally don't remember her name lol but also it doesn't have to be his birthday) but like, it doesn't end as badly as it did for him lmao

Idk if they should be an established relationship between him and reader or if this is like readers confession so ill let you choose what you feel like writing for!

Boyfriend (Rodrick Heffley X Male!Guitarist!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: While waiting for your friends to show up to band practice, you decide to show Rodrick a new song you’ve been working on.

A/N: this is my first time writing for rodrick so pls lmk how i did! au where reader wrote ‘boyfriend’ instead of btr (with a few tweaks). rodrick and reader are in the talking stage (i dont wanna say situationship but ig that works lol) but their friends dont know about it. the only instrument i know about is the violin so sorry if i get anything wrong. also i think doing singing in stories/fics is kinda weird/awkward but whatever lol

***

You always cherished the few minutes you had alone with Rodrick during band practice. Sure, you liked your other friends. But there was something about being able to watch Rodrick not put on the whole ‘bad boy rocker’ persona that he was used to wearing. Around you, he felt like he could wind down and not think as much.

Although, he didn’t think too much in the first place.

“I think we have a real shot at winning this talent show,” Rodrick said, drumming a beat on your thigh as he watched you tune your guitar. “We just need to practice more.”

“Well, I think we sound fine right now.”

“We don’t need to sound fine; we need to sound great!”

“Chill out, Roddy.” You said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a month away; we have plenty of time.”

“Don’t call me that.” Despite his words, the corner of Rodrick’s lip twitched up at the nickname. You were the only one who called him that. At first, he didn’t like it; it wasn’t a hardcore rocker name. But soon, he found himself getting giddy at the softness of it. “I guess you’re right, though.” 

Rodrick strummed his fingers across the strings of your guitar, laughing when you slapped his hand away.

“Work on anything new lately?” He asked, looking up at you from his hunched-over position. Along with being the guitarist, you were one of the main songwriters in Löded Diper, having many one-on-one writing sessions with Rodrick. That’s how the two of you grew closer, going from childhood friends playing on slides to somewhere between friends and something more, playing songs. Secret handshakes turned to lingering touches, and loud laughs turned to whispered jokes.

You were a bit hesitant to answer. You had been working on some new songs, but they didn’t exactly fit the Löded Diper brand. They were love songs, most, if not all, written with Rodrick in mind. 

“Kind of.” You finally say, picking at a frayed edge of your jeans. Rodrick perked up, always loving your new material.

“Yeah? Show me!”

“It’s not exactly like the stuff we play.” You argue, a bit anxious at the thought of Rodrick hearing what you had been toying with recently. “Besides, it’s not finished.”

Rodrick just shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Show me anyway.”

You hated how you could never say no to those eyes. You sighed and finally agreed, fiddling with your guitar while trying to remember the chords.

“No laughing.” You say.

“When do I ever laugh at you, Y/n?”

“All the time.” With that, you started playing. You gave Rodrick a nervous glance before clearing your throat and singing.

“Have you ever had the feeling you’re drawn to someone?

And there isn’t anything they could of said or done?

And everyday I see you on your own

And I can’t believe that you’re alone

But I overheard your friends and this is what they said”

Looking over at Rodrick, you saw him intently listening. Any other time, you’d be prideful of the fact that all his attention was on you. But right now, it made you wanna run. But you stayed planted in your seat and continued with the song.

“That you’re looking for a boyfriend

I see that, gimme time, you know I’m gonna be there

Don’t be scared to come put your trust in me

Can’t you see all I really want to be

Is your boyfriend

Can’t fight that

Knock me down you know I’m coming right back

I don’t care at all what you done before

All I really want is to be your

Boyfriend”

You let the last chord ring out before you set your guitar down and cleared your throat.

“So, yeah…” Rodrick kept staring at you. “That’s… the song.”

Rodrick scooted closer to you, and you lifted your head to face him eye-to-eye.

“Did you write that about me?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You bit your lip, watching how his hair fell from the movement.

“Depends.” You say, taking a deep breath. “Did you like it?”

Suddenly, Rodrick laughed. It made you stiffen, but you soon relaxed when he put a hand on the back of your neck.

“You’re so corny, dude.” He said before closing the gap between you. 

After the shock washed away, you gripped at his hair and ratty t-shirt, wanting to keep him close. You had come close to kissing Rodrick a few times, mainly while drunk at parties that you shouldn’t have been at or during writing sessions that eventually got interrupted by Rodrick’s younger brother Greg. But those close moments didn’t prepare you for how good the real thing felt.

When you parted, you rested your forehead on Rodrick’s as the two of you caught your breath. You opened your eyes and moved back a bit so you could see him clearly.

“So…” You start, not knowing what to do from here. “Are you looking for a boyfriend?”

“Sure.” Rodrick snorted before kissing you again.

[dichromaticdyke]

SKWISGAAR DOESN'T HAVE A TYPE AND I'M TIRED OF PRETENDING HE DOES

yeah, yeah, he's the guy who loves fat women and gmilfs. but he's not. fandom greatly overblows skwisgaar's "type" in women, and as the CEO of skwisgaar i won't stand for this anymore.

reminder before we get started, i'm not denying that skwisgaar is attracted to fat and elderly women, because he is. instead, this is a response to the way in which fandom acts like those are the only women he's attracted to.

because i have no life, i scrubbed through every episode and kept track of every woman who skwisgaar expresses interest in, whether with sexual comments, sexual encounters, making them his groupies, or giving them children. (no screencaps because i WILL go above tumblr's image limit). i might have missed some, but this is a large enough sample size to prove my point.

01x01 "The Curse of Dethklok": 1 (elderly/fat) 01x09 "Mordland": 1 (elderly/fat) 01x16 "Dethkids": 2 (1 elderly/fat) 01x18 "Girlfriendklok": 2 02x07 "Dethwedding": 2 02x10 "Dethgov": 3 (elderly/fat) 02x13 "Klokblocked": 4 (1 elderly/fat) 02x14 "Dethsources": 2 (elderly/fat) 03x05 "Fatherklok": 48 (8 elderly/fat) 03x06 "Fertilityklok": 54 (6 elderly/fat) 03x10 "Doublebookedklok": 18 (7 elderly/fat) 04x06 "Writersklok": 2 The Doomstar Requiem: 3 (1 elderly/fat)*

TOTALS: 142 young/thin women: 111 (78.17%) elderly/fat women: 31 (21.93%

*note: for DSR, since so many of the visuals are meant to be taken non-literally, i only focused on the ones that seemed to be direct representations of reality or of his genuine feelings. in this case, i focused on the beginning of Partyin' Around the World with the band at mordhaus and his fantasy in How Can I Be a Hero where he dreams about being married.

so. what does this tell us? more often than not, in canon, skwisgaar is depicted as having sex or sexual feelings towards thin women who are closer to his own age. despite this, even in canon, an emphasis is drawn to his attraction to gmilfs and fat women, most notably with him demanding to be put in charge of "dems old ladies" in florida.

i wanna draw attention to this interview, notably at timestamp 2:14

transcript:

Dethklok Minute Host Graham Hartmann: What is it exactly that you love about the-the larger and more elderly ladies? Skwisgaar: I thinks beautiful womens—what peoples calls "beautifuls womens"—amn'ts, uh...gets uglies after a whiles, you gets sicks of them, like eatings the same meals everydays, and you starts to turns to more exotics things that ams nots on the mains menus. So, uh, that would explains that. [underlines added for emphasis]

he doesn't have a type for fat or elderly women. he just can get any woman he wants whenever he wants, and since he does see beauty in all women, he wants to appreciate all women lest he get tired of them.

so, why is there such this hyperfixation on the elderly and fat women as objects of skwisgaar's attraction? as evidenced by both canon and his own words, he doesn't have a preference for them, he simply enjoys them as he would any other woman.

i'm gonna put it bluntly, this is where my silly skwisgaar analysis goes into actual feminist critique: it's because people still find it unusual at best or fetishistic at worst to be genuinely attracted to older and/or fat women. that's the whole thing. everyone—from fandom to interviewers to even the show (by making his attraction to older and fat women an inherent joke aspect of his character)—focusing on this aspect of his attraction does so because, on some level, they cannot fathom a young(ish, depending on what age you headcanon him to be), thin, conventionally attractive man being attracted to women who don't fit that mold.

and, in some ways, there is some reality to this—women's beauty is still held up to an insanely high standard, and generally it's more accepted for average-looking men to have attractive female partners than for average-looking women to have attractive male partners. societal standards for women's beauty and expectations for what men should find attractive is what this joke hinges on, and honestly? it's really frustrating to see this reiterated so often in the fandom. because skwisgaar never really acts particularly fetishistic towards any of the women he's attracted to. you could argue the "exotic" comment was, but he was still talking in terms of his food metaphor, and he's not exactly the best at expressing himself in english.

he loves all women. he genuinely does, his attraction to them has no size, race, or age—any consenting adult woman is game. i don't know about you, but it's fucking refreshing to see any kind of character like that. lesbian skwisgaar rights who said that

[magicaguajiro]

Caribbean Folk Saints and Mighty Dead: A Precursor

We all have family members who take on an almost Mythic quality after they pass on. They may have been a character in life, or a perhaps a spiritual practitioner. Maybe they were known for their generosity, or lack of it, or their strength or brilliance. Nonetheless, it is someone who, even in death, still makes an impact. In personal practices, we may work with these ancestors for guidance and healing, but what happens when their influence spreads past your family, into the local community or even entire country? This and many other strange circumstances often explain the origin and powers of Folk Saints and Elevated Dead. I will be going into the various Folk Saints and Deified Ancestors of the Caribbean, (including Florida), but before I can do that I need to explain where these spirits come from, and why they are so potent in our everyday lives.

What are Folk Saints and Mighty Dead?

Folk Saints and Mighty Dead are spirits of dead people who were either elevated in life, or became elevated after death. Their elevation often is then connected to their ability to grant various petitions made to them. Some of the Folk Saints I will be talking about were used to disguise other figures who were outlawed by the Colonial government at the time, while others are various figures of marginalized communities who gained sorcerous or otherworldly reputations after death.

Cuba and Florida are Lands of diaspora and syncretism. Many different traditions abound and each tradition has multiple lineages, so the classification of spirits differs depending on the worldview of the person explaining. Some practitioners work within a framework of Catholicism, some use elements and some flat-out reject Catholicism completely for decolonization purposes. For this reason, I have differentiated Folk Saints from the Mighty Dead.

Folk Saints will include those spirits who are worked with in a Catholic context, but are usually not canonized or not at first. On the other hand, the Mighty Dead will include spirits who are venerated amongst Indigenous and African traditions in Cuba as well as the surrounding areas, as to not group them under a title created by Colonizers. If you are Cuban or Caribbean, these Folk Saints and Mighty Dead offer power at a closer degree because they are more proximal to your Spirit Court, and may even already have bonds with them.

It is important to note, spirits like Orisha and Cemí have very specific protocols, manners and taboos when approaching them, so this is best done with the help of a priest, such as Oloricha or Babalawo, or a Taíno Behike. These are not energies you simply feel drawn to and work with. Orisha and Cemi are in some cases Deified Ancestors and others Personified Forces of Nature, among other things. This varies from the Ancestors and Spirits I will be discussing in this series.

Benefits of Working with The Mighty Dead

Folk Saints and Ancestors give us a closer connection to the divine through their proximity to the Divine and their individual virtues and personalities. As with all spirit relationships, you will get out what you put in.

Folk Saints who are related to the Land you live on, such as Uncle Monday or Bessie Graham for us Floridians, can help to deepen your connection with the local community. They can help you to further your relationship with the Earth and introduce you to other Land spirits.

Spirits related to your Ancestry can help to work through generational issues. Some ancestral spirits, like José Martí or Guamá for us Cubans, are related to ideas of War, Rebellion, and overcoming oppression. These spirits can be worked with for the same pursuits of defeating oppressors in the modern day. Each spirit has a story and is multi-faceted, so it really depends on what your connection is to the Spirit and what you are capable of offering them.

How to Work with Deified Dead

Working with these spirits is individual to each spirit, based on what their heritage is, as well as their personal tastes. When starting out, it’s best to keep things simple. Instead of going and creating an entire altar dedicated to a spirit, begin by praying about it at your Bóveda or ancestral altar. Here, you may find that a spirit is not compatible with your current situation, or doesn’t want to work with you ever! Should the omens be good, however, and you may begin establishing a connection to that spirit Research and talking to other devotees can give you great insight into what a relationship with that Spirit can look like.

My formula for reaching out to these spirits is always different, but I follow basic principles. I always begin with a representation of the spirit, a small offering and a candle. The representation can be anything, from a statue to a printed picture or even just their name on some paper. The offering is in most cases water until the spirit makes other wants known to me, but when a spirit doesn’t take water I offer food or tobacco instead. The candle is something I was taught helps to enhance spirit communication, carrying messages between the worlds. It is helpful to research about whoever you are attempting to communicate with, and if possible you should speak to other practitioners who work with the same Spirit. Often times, this is someone-you-know’s father or grandmother. From here, you should sit with whatever entity you are contacting, allowing yourself to experience a personal relationship with them. I will share individual experiences of what each spirit has been like in practice for me, or people I know, but for beginning this is a good basic way to start out.

I look forward to sharing more about these incredible figures who influence my favorite corner of the world to this day.

Paz y Progreso 🕯️

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Wildest dreams, pt. 26

Summary: Y/N and Paul come to lunch at the Cullen’s house. 

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, talking about death

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

Parking in front of the Cullen’s house, Y/N gulps at the sight. The house is three stories tall with a wraparound porch, and large windows reflecting the sunlight. It’s a mansion compared to the houses in La Push; a very well-kept, modern mansion.

“We should probably go”, Paul’s the first one to speak. “They’re likely wondering why we’re sitting here and just staring at the house.”

“You think they’re watching us?”

“And listening”, Paul states before continuing with a smile. “So I want Rosalie to know that I come in peace and to not put any glass into my salad.”

Y/N raises her brows. “Huh?”

“She broke a glass bowl filled with salad when Bella first came to meet the family.”

“By accident?” Y/N asks with a slight frown but her eyes were reflecting the confusion while attempting to hide an inkling of panic her heart rate is betraying.

“Jacob said Bella came over AFTER eating a full course meal, unaware the Cullens spent all day prepping a lunch for her.”

“Is that why you didn’t let me eat anything today?!”

Shrugging, Paul smirks. “Just making sure we don’t have a repeat.”

With a wry smile, Y/N nods before taking a deep breath. 

‘How bad can they be?’ She thought. ‘They don’t feed on humans, only on Bambi. Don’t think about that! Ughhh, now I won’t be able to stop thinking about dead deer moms!’

Walking out, she huffs as Paul steps beside her, offering his hand for her to take. His grin isn’t helping ease her nerves either. When she came to him with news of the brunch invite, she didn’t expect him to accept. In fact, Y/N hoped he’d fight her on it until they both eventually agreed on a polite note declining the invitation. 

“Yes”, Paul answers almost instantly, eagerly even. 

“Yes?”

“Mhmm”, he spits out the toothpaste foam, opening the faucet. “Did you expect a different answer or something?” 

Snorting, she shakes her head slowly. “No?”

Washing off the remains of toothpaste from the sink, Paul closes the tap and wipes his mouth with a towel. “Is that a yes or a no?” Flashing his freshly cleaned pearly whites, Paul raises his brows at the way her heart skipped a beat from such a simple, everyday thing. It’s an ego boost to have her heart’s confirmation she truly does love him.

Frowning, she pouts. “I don’t understand. I thought you didn’t like the Cullens?” 

Heading back to the bedroom, Paul runs his fingers through his damp hair. “No. Not really. Their smell is a bit difficult to stand, but we’re good.”

“Since when?!”

“Since the almost battle that never happened”, Paul reminds her.

Swallowing thickly, Y/N sits on the bed, giving Paul a quick look over before setting her gaze back on his shit-eating grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing to her and he’s reveling in it.

“You mean the almost battle in which one of the Cullens said you’d have died? That one?”

Paul’s smile disappears as he nods curtly. “But it didn’t happen and I’m here.”

“Yes, but it makes me anxious, okay? You being around them, especially if the Volturi are setting their sights on them again…just feels dangerous.”

“For you”, Paul reminds her. “I’m not the one we have to worry about.”

“So why are we accepting this invite?”

Sighing, Paul kneels before her, his hands resting on her thighs firmly. “Because if there’s a shit-storm coming our way, it will come with or without their presence. This way we have a powerful ally that can help.”

“Or they’re the catalyst of everything you’ve been so terrified of”, she argues.

“Our lands have always drawn the supernatural. If it’s not them, something else would be a catalyst and I feel safer knowing they’re closer to us.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, she bites her lower lip. “Because if I do get mortally wounded, they’d be there to turn me into one of their own?”

“I didn’t say that”, Paul states firmly. 

“I already told you I don’t want to be a vampire”, Y/N presses her lips in a thin line. 

“And I didn’t say I’d do anything to disrespect your wishes.”

“I can see it in your eyes, Paul. I might not be able to listen to your heartbeat or sense your pheromones or whatever you do to figure me out, but your eyes are incapable of lying.” Rubbing her nose, she looks away. There’s a lump building at the back of her throat and she feels like she’s losing her mind, but she can’t stop thinking turning her into a vampire would be the worst idea Paul’s ever had. 

But Paul doesn’t want to lose her. He doesn’t want to wake up without her by his side nor go to bed knowing she’s not following soon behind. He needs more time, a lifetime. How can she hear him cry when he dreams of her death and not choose to do anything to prevent inflicting that pain on him? 

“Alright, I was considering it,” Paul admits, shamefully lowering his gaze as she turns her eyes onto him once more. “I don’t want to do something you’re against, but I am begging you to at least not be so definitive about it.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you”, she whimpers. “But every cell in my body is quivering with the mere thought of agreeing to it.”

“At least think about it? Ask Bella and the rest of them about how it was for them and then make a choice. I’ll respect it, but only if you do this for me. Please do this for me”, Paul begs, his eyes brimming with tears, crumbling to pieces in front of her and she can’t ignore it.

“Ok”, she swallows the lump at the back of her throat but a new one forms, quickly replacing it.

“OK?”

Nodding, she manages a meek smile for his benefit. “We can go and I’ll talk to them and I won’t hastily disagree anymore.”

Walking across the porch to the front door, Y/N grips Paul’s hand tighter. She doesn’t get a chance to knock as the door swings open and Jacob’s grin meets her. 

“Thought you’d turn around and run”, he cackles before stealing Y/N away from Paul.

Wide-eyed she looks to her imprint as Jacob’s arms wrap around her, half hugging and half carrying her into the house.

Once her feet find the ground once again, she turns around only to find a group of deathly pale people staring at her intently. They’re smiling, but despite the alluring tone their welcoming smiles are meant to set, it sends chills down Y/N’s spine.

Intimidating isn't the right word for how she'd describe the sight before her. While Renesmee possesses an inhuman beauty, it cannot compare to the rest of her family. She only ever saw Edward in passing, once, and that was enough to suspect him of being a genetically engineered specimen, now she knows the truth to be far more sinister. 

Frightening is a better term to use, like standing in front of art come to life, as if the greatest of ancient sculptures have gained consciousness and a thirst for blood.

'They drink animal blood', Y/N reminds herself. 'But nothing stops them from changing their mind at any moment. I certainly can't and Paul would die trying.'

Noticing Edward's eyebrows furrow, she purses her lips. 

'You're the mind reader', she nods curtly. He returns the gesture with a slight smile. 

"Welcome", a petite woman with caramel brown hair and a kind smile greets them, gently shaking Y/N’s hand moments after peeling away from the handsome, very tall blond-haired man standing in the front of the group. 

Gulping, Y/N feels her heart skip a beat with the sudden movement and cold touch. It’s like shaking hands with marble floors, yet the woman’s smile is warmer than her touch. Despite it, Y/N can’t help the way her entire body tenses up, clenching her jaw to stop her lips from trembling in fear.

“I think we should give our guest time to adjust”, the man places his hand on the kind woman’s shoulder and she steps back. 

Esme and Carlisle from what Y/N can remember. No one showed her photos, but Jacob and Paul had an abundance of choice words describing the family to prepare her…Well, they did a shit job. No one prepared her for how stuffy the air is nor how all of her primal instincts are screaming at her to run and hide, indicating danger.

‘Carlisle is a doctor too and Paul said he’s a good man’, she notes as she feels a wave of calm wash over her. Furrowing her brows, she glances at Paul. “I feel weird”, she says quietly, forgetting everyone else can hear her. 

“That’s probably Jasper”, Bella smirks as she looks toward the guy on her left. He’s tall, as well, probably a foot taller than Y/N and his honey-blond hair is longer, neatly pulled back to fully reveal his pale face. Somehow his golden eyes are lighter, and more prominent than others, reminding her of honey in the sunshine. “He can manipulate emotions”, Bella explains.

Pursing her lips, Y/N nods. “Do you do that on purpose or is it like a reflex where certain emotions violently affect you and you’re forced to react to ease it for your own sanity?”

Raising his brows, Jasper’s lopsided smile lights up his face. He’s probably the most handsome of them all when he smiles, Y/N decides while thanking God Paul can’t read her mind. 

“Both, I suppose,” Jasper answers, his voice laced with a subtle Southern accent. “I can stop”, he offers sweetly.

“I actually appreciate it”, Y/N smiles lightly. “Truth be told I’m nervous as hell and perhaps scared to a degree. I’ve gotten used to fur and claws, but this is a whole other thing.”

“I felt the same way”, Jacob reassures her. “But you’re safe here.”

“The only one who didn’t feel that way is Bella, but she’s always been a little out there”, the large man with a Barbie on his arm snickers before giving Y/N a playful wave. “We get it...Just don’t bleed in the house and you’ll probably walk away with a full belly and no incidents.”

“Emmett!” Bella warns, her eyes narrowing at the burly man who simply shrugs before smiling at Y/N, showing his dimples.

‘How does a vampire even have dimples?!’

“I’m being honest, which I’m sure you prefer.” Giving Y/N a pointed look, his smile widens.

Nodding once, Y/N blinks fast. Biting her lip, she looks at Jasper. “I might need to stay closer to you today. Is there a perimeter in which you operate or can you manipulate emotions anywhere in the house?”

Barking out a laugh, Emmett places a hand over his chest. “She thinks you’re an emotional Wi-Fi router!”

Blush adorns Y/N’s cheeks as embarrassment floods her senses only to find it dispersed as quickly as Emmett caused it. “Thank you”, she mouths to Jasper before looking at the only two she hasn’t spoken to.

“You’re Rosalie”, Y/N focuses on the astonishing woman by Emmett. Her wavy blonde hair is fixed up in a bun, revealing her long, elegant neck and her golden eyes are slightly darker than the rest of the family, making Y/N slightly more nervous. 

“And you’re Y/N”, Rosalie forces a smile. “Who hasn’t eaten all day, right?” Raising her perfectly arched eyebrows, Rosalie glances at Paul who nods eagerly.

“As promised, she had nothing to eat. Not even breakfast.” Paul grins, resting his hands on Y/N’s shoulders for support. He’s aware she’s probably freaking out now, but his best chance at convincing her to stay is to let the Cullens do what they do best: schmooze her into loving them as they did with most of the pack. 

Finally, Y/N redirects her gaze to the only one of the bunch who she can feel taller than. “Alice, I presume”, she says with a cautious smile as the vampire’s big eyes widen in excitement. 

“You’d be right”, Alice heads toward her but pauses when Y/N releases a quiet, barely audible gasp. “Sorry, I forgot to slow down”, she giggles. “I do that sometimes, but I’m harmless. Just ask Bella!”

Making eye contact with Bella who chuckles, Y/N sighs. “Friend shaped...got it!” Leaning into Paul, Y/N licks her lips wondering if she should ask outright or wait till they’ve eaten. “So, you can see the future, huh?”

‘Patience was never my stronger suit.’

“Versions of the future”, Alice confirms. “It’s always changing as every decision made affects the outcome.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N looks up over her shoulder to find Paul’s closed his eyes. He’s afraid. No matter what Alice says or what Y/N agrees to, he’s deathly afraid of the future and it pains her to see him so defeated. A man so brave is now brought to his knees and she can’t figure out how to tell him that turning her into a vampire will bring them no good. Isn’t it better to remember her fondly when she’s gone than to watch her become a bloodthirsty creature who won’t yearn for him or enjoy his presence? She won’t be who she was anymore, she won’t be the woman he loves now.

“I’d like to talk more about it once we eat the delicious food you guys prepared.” Y/N forces a somewhat genuine smile, deciding it would be better if Paul isn’t present when she speaks to Alice or any of them. “It smells like heaven and I’m famished thanks to Paul.”

Snorting, Paul pecks her temple. “You love me anyway.”

Cupping his cheek, Y/N’s smile softens. “It’s a burden I have to carry”, she remarks before walking toward Esme.

Esme lights up as she realizes Y/N’s already warming up to her, seeing her as less of a danger. 

“I’m sorry for my apprehension and I would like to thank you and Carlisle for having us over.”

“It’s our pleasure.” Esme gestures toward the kitchen, “We prepared a lot of food. Jacob usually eats most of it, so we had to account for two wolves today.”

Chuckling, Y/N nods, allowing Esme to lead her inside. “It’s such a hassle, I agree. No matter how much food I bring into the house, it’s all gone by the next day! I’m going bankrupt feeding Paul!”

While Y/N walked inside with a much more relaxed and positive attitude, Paul remained in the hall. Jacob and Edward hang back with him, watching as everyone poured into the kitchen to help set up the table. 

“What’s the situation”, Paul asks Edward.

“She’s having a hard time accepting all of this”, he replies. “Y/N strongly believes it would be a mistake if she turns.”

“Can you get more specific?” Jacob raises his brows. “If Paul’s to find a way to convince her, we need specifics.”

“Are you sure you want that to happen”, Edward asks quietly. “This won’t be like Bella. If anything, she might be more of a Jasper.”

“Why would you think that?” Paul frowns.

“Anxiety and depression lurking in her mind make her less emotionally stable, it could make her prone to a lot more mistakes when she turns,” Edward explains.

Paul shakes his head vehemently. “Didn’t you say being a vampire heals everything?”

“Sometimes a fractured mind is just that, a fractured mind”, Edward glances at Y/N carrying a few napkins. “She worries she won’t be the same. That she’ll be lost in her thirst for blood and that if she dies your imprint bond would break.”

“Even if it breaks, I’d still fucking love her”, Paul retorts quickly. “I loved her before the bond, I know I’d love her even if it broke.”

“But would she love you?”

Edward’s question brings chills down Paul’s spine. Truth is, he can’t be certain. She says she cared for him before the imprinting, but most of what he got from her was hate. All his life he believed Y/N Y/L/N hates his guts and would sell him out for a light breeze on a sunny day. Never before had it actually occurred to Paul that maybe the feelings Y/N has for him twisted her memories and feelings in a way that would bind her to him. She might believe she loved him before, but all those confessions came in conversations after imprinting. 

His love for Y/N has always been real, but he can’t be sure it’s the same for her.

Can he risk that?

Will he put their love to the test?

Yes.

Because even if he doesn’t like the answer, at least she’ll be alive. Y/N will have a chance to find happiness without Paul in the picture. And he’ll watch, cheer for her if necessary. He can’t be selfish with his heart – with his Y/N. 

“I just want her to live”, Paul sighs. “Nothing else matters to me.”

“Paul”, Jacob starts but one look from Paul shuts him up.

“We have to convince her or she’ll die and we will spend whatever time we have left wondering if we did enough to save her life. I can’t live like that. Can you?”

_______________________

Tags: @the-chaotic-cow​ @xxxjaexxx​ @captainrogers-19​ @bexloxl​ @llovergirlll​ @adaydreamaway08​ @sunsetevergreen​ @volturiwolf​ @twihard08​ @galacticstxrdust​ @sorrow-and-bliss​ @ireadthensuetheauthors​ @missxmarvelous​ @locokoca​ @unstablekay​ @makhaia​ @venusdelaroix​ @avadakadabra93​ @tearsforhan​ @a-marie-a​ @lendeluxe​ @seagulls-corner​ @jdbxws​ @konigslilslut​ @rottenstyx​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @dreamerwasfound​ @convolutings​ @thingfromlove​ @jennyamanda8​ @havecourage-darling​ @luvr-exe​ @alittlejudgemental​ @turningtoclown​ @emptydoorsandpaintedwindows​ @marvelmenarebeautiful​ @bringmethe-world​ @alitaar​ @sugasthreedollarkookie​ @chloe-skywalker​ @heyheyheyggg​ @feral-ratatattat-king​ @queereddie​ @fandomrulesall-blog​ @queenotaku27​ @dcgoddess​ @lilac-crowns-blog​ @small-town-wayward-daughter​ @yourqueentp​ @boreddemigodd​ @chaosgoblinreblogsthings​ @felinegrate​ @lunajay33​ @gtfoana​ @hpboysslut2707​ @tpwk-harry-styles​ @amberpanda99​ @let-love-bleeds-red​ @mo-s-blog​​ @nj01​ @myheadsinanotherworld​ @problematicpastry​ 

A/N: if anyone wants to be added or taken off the tags, leave a comment or send an ask. Make sure your blog visibility settings are on and that your blog hasn’t been flagged (blurry pfp is usually your clue that you have been flagged) as those are most common reasons why tumblr won’t let you be tagged. Also keep in mind changing your @ might mean you lose your tag since I can’t track everyone down when that happens. Other than that, hope you enjoy the series and I want to thank you all for being patient. I’ve definitely taken a lot of time off between the chapters due to life interfering. Hopefully I won’t need this much time to write the next one xD. 

PART 27

[annawrites444]

Hellooooo may I request reader x Thalia where they had little bit of chemistry well traveling with each other to the camp with Annabeth and Luke but after the incident only thing reader has left of her in her Jacket ,but when she's back finds reader has Joined Luke's side and doesn't know what to do.

Sorry if you need more to work off but the rest and ending is up to you

HIII ANON!!! AHHHH TYSM this is my first request ever so I'm so excited <3 I'll try my best to do it justice :)

*PLEASE DON'T REPOST ON ANY OTHER MEDIA OR WEBSITE OTHER THAN TUMBLR WITHOUT PROPER CREDS*

A Lost Love~ Thalia Grace x reader

TW and A/N : Some use of Y/N, Angst, cliffhanger?- for now... (also not proofread)

You remember the fear in her eyes, the yelps of surprise, the pace at which the five of you ran, never looking back. You bounded over hill after hill, Thalia and Luke took the lead with you and Annabeth in tow, and Grover close behind. The furies were hot on your trail and your breath shook more with every step. You saw the flash of Thalia's sleek black hair streak through a gorgeous sunset sky, normally you'd take the time to sit and enjoy an evening like this with your newfound friend, but unfortunately luck was not on your side tonight.

As the camp grew closer so did the furies who were even more bent on catching the young demigods before it was too late. The group of you were able to put enough distance between yourselves that Thalia could turn around and stop you all to quickly buy you some time.

"Listen, there are too many of them and not all of us can fight. " Thalia choked out, "I'll hold them off" her once fear ridden eyes hardened with determination. "No." you interjected to her surprise, which led her to lock eyes with Luke, giving him. curt nod to signal him to pull both you and Annabeth away from her and toward the camp before the furies caught up. You and Annabeth let out cries of refusal and struggled against Luke's grip, before noticing how emotional this was for him too. "We have to go." Luke muttered, his voice cracking with hurt but he knew there was no other way. "No. We'll find a way, you don't have to do this" your cried out to her. "Hey," Thalia slid off her black leather jacket and threw it to you. "keep it, it looks better on you anyways." Thalia's eyes softened and she gave you a last soft smile before turning around and getting into a fighting stance with her dagger drawn. The furies were much closer and managed to gain speed. Luke pulled as hard as possible with grover's help to direct you and Annabeth to camp, blocking out both of your cries for Thalia, Thalia your friend. Your companion. Thalia your new found love.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That day you lost hope in the gods and in camp, you stuck around for Annabeth and Luke but once given the chance you ran with Luke to join a side you felt would give you much needed justice and revenge.

You still wore that jacket, everyday. Now as Luke's partner and a servant of Kronos, you had a new purpose, a new motivation to get up in the morning. No more Hermes cabin with the other rejects and unlucky campers wishing their godly parent claimed them, now you had status and power. Not to mention a friend at your side who also believed in the same cause. However, we never forget our first loves, and consequently you couldn't either, your mind still went back to Thalia whenever you sought comfort. The few times you'd ever felt anxious or scared since then, you'd don Thalia's beloved jacket and picture her smile that blew away any storm cloud of worry.

You patrolled the outskirts of the camp, clad in bronze armor, with your preferred weapon strapped to your side, analyzing every rock and tree you saw to make sure you were alone. You noticed the trail of smoke floating above the treetops in the air, it was most likely somebody's camp. You let your curiosity get the better of you and follow it to it's source, however as you were passing through a thicket of trees you hear the bush nearby rustle and look with surprise to see Thalia staring back, she had a silver bow and arrow pointed at you and her eyes were hardened with determination. You were frozen in shock with a mixture of both feelings of shame and joy. Your best friend whom you thought was dead was alive and well. Not to mention she had somehow gotten even more beautiful than your last painful encounter. "Y/N..?" Thalia looked up at you with a growing smile as she quickly threw her weapon aside and embraced you. It took you a moment before you reciprocated and tightly wrapped your arms around her burying your face into the crook of her neck. She smelled like the campfire she had surely just left.

Thalia pulled away from the embrace to hold both of your hands and looks you dead in the eye, "You don't know how much I've missed you" you can't help but smile, trying to stomach the growing anxious pit of emotions in your stomach. She didn't know about you. She didn't know you sided with Kronos considering her reaction. "Why are you here??" you ask with trepidation, "Oh, I'm a Hunter of Artemis now and I was just patrolling the camp grounds." she replied and quickly let go of your hand. "Oh." you looked away feeling a sharp pang in your chest, becoming a Hunter of Artemis meant that she rejected love. "Hey, is that my old jacket?" Thalia pointed out the worn leather jacket you had on underneath your armor. Your face burned as you scrambled to find a response to her observation. "uhh, yes I wear it all the time." you fiddle with the zipper/ buttons on the jacket and look back up at her to find her grinning back, you then spend the next few hours leisurely walking around the forest and you directed yourself and Thalia as far away from Luke and his expectant band of soldiers of the army of Kronos. You couldn't stop talking with Thalia, who talked about her year as a Hunter and how much she has learned, and you talked about anything you could other than the camp that you left behind and your current status in Kronos's army.

Finally, while you were both headed back you stopped her and with all the courage you had gathered, told her about your new position. "Thalia, I left camp-halfblood." you say your voice ringing strong with confidence, she looks at you expectantly awaiting your explanation, "I have missed you so much and wish I could keep catching up but I need to tell you something. And I don't want this to change your view of me but you need to know...I joined Kronos with Luke." you wait a moment after hearing her gasp to look up at her shocked expression, eyes widened and her arms falling limp to her side. "I don't want to fight you" you say putting some distance between yourself and Thalia unsure if she would attack or not. She seemed to be conflicted about that as well as her eyes looked clouded with several emotions as if she was debating that very thing.. whether or not to fight you. "Why?" Thalia asked with a crack in her voice since you were the last person she'd expect to have to face as an enemy. "Ever since you sacrificed yourself for us and ever since Luke came back from his quest from Hermes, I have lost faith in the Gods that claimed to protect us, Demi-gods get slaughtered doing whatever the Gods want, we fight and die to just do them favors. I was done feeling rejected and not "important" enough for my godly parent to claim me." Your eyes hardened in response to your passionate argument. You slide your chest plate off before taking off Thalia's beloved jacket and holding it out to her to take back, after she didn't make a move to take it, you drop it on the ground before throwing on your chest plate and giving her one last pained expression before turning to leave.

You didn't look back once, though you desperately wanted to. Thalia was your friend yet you knew you could not be around her, for her safety and yours too. You chose to retreat even though you should have fought her, you couldn't fight Thalia, not because you weren't trained enough to, but because of what it would mean. It would mean that you two were truly enemies and you didn't want that. Fighting back the burning tears in your eyes, you headed back to your camp. Thalia stood frozen in the middle of the clearing you had just left and bounced different ideas and arguments around in her head as to why on Earth you would join Kronos. She understood how you and Luke felt, even she who was the daughter of Zeus himself, never got as much attention as she had wanted from her father. She had won you back and lost you all in the same day, Thalia knew it was for the best that you left and didn't exchange information with her anymore, but it pained her to have to turn around and go back to her life as a hunter now that you were on her radar. You who had once brought her so much carefree joy and happiness, you who had loved her and who she loved back. She had once loved you, what troubled her know was if those buried feelings would resurface and if they would command her as they did before. Thalia picked up the jacket, her fingers sliding over every scratch and hole you had fixed with little patches, the inside of the jacket's cuffs still had her name in silver lettering embroidered. It stung to hold it, to feel it still warm in her hand.

What could Thalia do for a lost love?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you so much for reading this far, I had so much fun writing this and hope my interpretation of Thalia was okay 😭, especially since we don't get much about her in the series and I haven't read the series in a very long time.

Divider pic creds to: heavenlayt

Have a good rest of your day/night

much love- Anna <3

[stonecoldholly]

Worldwalker: Chapter 2

Summary - After witnessing a ritual at a pagan festival in her hometown, Sam suddenly finds herself in a world where magic exists and dangers far worse than everyday crime lurk around every corner. Accepting her unfortunate situation is one challenge; trusting these otherworldly beings to help her is another. As she uncovers the truth, she often finds that it leads to more trouble than it’s worth. Sam must navigate this new world, find her way back home, and restart her life.

With each passing day, they get closer to sending her back and while Sam dedicates herself to finding answers, Azriel finds himself drawn to her. Together, they search for the solution, but with the multiple rifts appearing across Prythian, rising tensions between courts, and the threat of a possible invasion looming, they are working on borrowed time.

With the weight of the world on her shoulders, Sam embarks on an adventure that only happens in fairy tales, but even the most exciting fairy tales have to end.

Warnings - mentions of death, multiple mentions of a firearm and using it, angst

Word Count - 6,752

A/N - We're getting somewhere now! Feel free to read this on AO3! My username is the same. I will admit that I still don't know how to make my posts all fancy like everyone else, but I'm trying to learn. I'll get there eventually. In future chapters, I will remove part of the summary from my chapter posts.

“I was only looking for the shortcut home. But it’s complicated, so complicated. Somewhere in this city is a road I know. Where we could make it but maybe there’s no making it now.” It Is What It Is - Lifehouse

Unknown Location

It was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

Golden rays of light were streaming through trees blazing with autumn; red, yellow, and amber leaves littered the ground as she slowly rotated in a circle, completely awestruck. A thick carpet of leaves covered the soggy forest floor and the overhanging branches, desperately holding onto the lush foliage it once had, reached towards the sky as though to welcome the rising sun. The musty scent of decomposing leaves and damp earth assaulted her senses and the rustling of wildlife on the hunt for food echoed in the distance. The forest went on as far as the eye could see with colors so vivid, that her senses couldn’t drink in the surroundings fast enough, let alone fully comprehend it.

“Where in the hell am I?” Sam asked out loud, breathless at how vibrant the colors around her were. “There is no way I am in Savannah.”

Sam’s feet started to move as she continued to turn in a circle, looking up, around, down, everywhere she could. She yelped as her boot caught the hump of a jutting root, sending her crashing down into a mud puddle ass first.

‘God damn it, these were new jeans.’

She tucked her pride in the back pocket of her mind and stood, stomping on the ground to get what mud she could off her. She looked around again, listening for anything indicating running water, a house, civilization, anything that would help her. She was completely thrown off and off-kilter. It was just nighttime five minutes ago in the city and now the sun was coming in the middle of a dense, ancient forest.

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, wiping the mud off it. The screen turned on, but the ‘No Service’ displayed in the top right corner next to the 72% battery caused a sinking feeling in her gut.

‘Can’t call for help.’

On a whim, she tried to find a WiFi signal to latch on to. That, too, proved useless.

She sighed heavily, “And no way to pull up a map. Does the compass work without WiFi?” She asked to the air, tapping on her phone and trying to pull up the compass but the app kept crashing. She rolled her eyes, “Well, thank god for all the music I downloaded, at least there’s that.”

With nothing left to lose, she began to walk through the forest. She only hoped that she was heading in the direction of help.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

She walked for hours. Her legs cramped from not taking many rest stops, her calves were sore and tight from the uneven terrain of the woods, and scrapes and cuts littered her hands and face from being smacked by branches and thorny bushes. She could feel the blisters starting to form on her heels from wearing her boots for so long and she was physically exhausted. She needed a break, she was tired, thirsty, hungry, and scared.

She hadn’t come across anything that could pass as a shelter, the ground and debris were wet, and wasting energy on trying to start a fire wouldn’t be beneficial. She had nothing to make a trap for small wildlife nor did she have a knife to help prep the animal in the event she caught one. She also didn’t know if she had the stomach for it, used to getting her prepackaged meat from the Food Lion down the road. She could shoot the animal, but the not having a knife issue came back up, and she hadn’t seen an animal yet- only heard them way off in the distance.

As the night started to settle in and her journey led her deeper and deeper into the ever-darkening forest, Sam’s anxiety continued to spike bordering on paranoia. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, every soft howl of the wind caused her to jump in fright. She would whirl around in the direction of each sound, breathing heavily and eyes blown wide, only to be met with increasing shadows at her back. The death grip she had on her weapon did nothing to ease her fear; the weight of it was more than just its heaviness.

She was always taught that in the event that a weapon needed to be discharged, the situation must be so dire that you fear for your life. The decision to pull the trigger should never be taken lightly and it should be regarded as a last resort in a worst-case scenario.

This was a worst-case scenario.

Sam was lost in a strange forest at night time with no supplies or gear to survive, armed with only a handgun with a full clip, a cellphone with no service, the clothes on her back, and her limited knowledge of outdoor survival. The odds of her surviving or finding help decreased with every passing minute. She knew the basics of hunting and making a camp, but not enough to increase her odds of walking out of the woods alive.

She considered herself a brave woman, having faced considerable terrifying instances in her 30 years of life but there was nothing in her past that could have prepared her for this. At what point does anyone think the impossible would happen to them? Savannah didn’t have a forest like this, they had a National Wildlife preserve on the opposite side of town, and trees scattered along city park squares did not count as a ‘forest’. It also didn’t get this chilly in October in Savannah, waiting until February or even March for these cold temperatures. The likelihood of her still being near the city was slim to none.

Her stomach was starting to protest in hunger and her mouth was as dry as a desert. She hadn’t come across any bodies of water or a flowing river to help relieve her thirst. The forest was damp so it must have rained recently, perhaps that there was a small puddle of water gathered on some of the larger leaves that would pass as a sip for her. Unfortunately, it was not proving to be fruitful for her either.

Yes, the odds were stacked higher against her.

She sighed heavily and continued to walk through the woods, her steps crunching the undergrowth beneath her feet. Sam could only catch a glimpse of the moon piercing through the overhanging limbs of the trees every so often, the shadows dancing along the path and illuminating animal trails that disappeared into clusters of bushes.

Every sound was intensified at night, the forest being no different. Sam was not normally afraid of the dark, preferring to be left alone in it, but this was a different kind of dark, one she was not used to. She was breathing too loud and too hard, the sound of her blood rushing in her ears was thunderous, and her footsteps were completely out of place in the thick, misty atmosphere. She could hear the trunks of the trees creaking, the yips of foxes, the wind caressing the leaves with every light gust, and howls of wolves from miles away.

She needed to sleep. She was of no use if she didn’t get some rest. She knew that sleeping on the cold, wet ground was not ideal and that she would need to be elevated from the forest floor. Not only to save her from the possibility of getting hypothermia but also from curious animals in search of an easy meal. She had no desire to be served up on a silver platter to one of the apex predators in these woods.

Sam stopped once she came across a tall, solid tree with thick, long limbs spreading away from its trunk. This would have to do for a few hours, at least until sunrise. Clicking on the safety and holstering her gun, she searched the bushes for a long piece of thick vine that was malleable enough to be bent and tied around her and the branch she claimed as her bed for the night. Scurrying up the trunk to the highest branch she felt comfortable at, she wrapped the vine around her thighs and the branch, tying it as tight as she could without snapping it in half.

The rough bark of the tree trunk scratched against her scalp and she did her best to ignore it as she stared at the moon through a small opening in the tree's canopy. Getting lost in her thoughts, her loneliness and anxiety reaching a peak, she let her thoughts pass unfiltered and unrestrained.

‘Did I do something to deserve this? I don’t want to die here.’

Her eyes filled with tears as a tightening in her chest began to squeeze the air from her lungs.

‘What does Melissa and Josh think happened to me? Are they looking for me? Would they look for me? Do they think I’m dead?’

She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, tears falling onto her shirt. She wanted to be found, to have someone help her, be here with her. She was so damned scared that she would die and never experience the rest of what life had to offer her. Maybe she wasn’t a good person and this was purgatory. She believed she was a good person, despite the fights and altercations she'd gotten into over the years, but she fought for the right reasons. Her friends. Love. Protection. Life.

Maybe this was the end of all that.

‘Please. Please. Somebody.’

‘Please. Don’t let me die. Not here. Not yet.’

Breathe in. Breathe out.

‘…..stop, Sam, now is not the time to break. You can’t break now.’

She took another steadying breath, pressing her back further into the tree and tugging on the vine securing her to the branch. She would make it; she would get through this. She had to-there was no other choice. If it was her time, she would go down fighting, trying, and she would give it her last best effort. Her eyes closed again and as she pleaded to whatever god was listening to help her, she fell into a fitful sleep.

It was only a few hours later, the sky only just beginning to change colors when a heavier rustling in the leaves startled her out of her sleep. She scrambled out of the vines, not wanting to be at a disadvantage, her heart beating wildly in her chest, as she climbed out of her tree bed as quickly and silently as she could. She dashed across the roots in the earth, stumbling and making more noise than she intended in the leaves, and towards a cluster of trees a few yards away. She slammed her back into it, the rough bark biting through the worn leather of her jacket and into her skin. She tilted her head to the side, trying to listen through her raging heartbeat. The leaves kept rustling as if someone was walking through them towards her.

Click.

The safety of the gun clicked off and she inhaled the rich scent of the forest deeply into her lungs to steady herself. She needed to be calm and collected, ready to defend herself within a moment's notice. She could not hesitate if the situation called for it. The possibility of pulling the trigger to end a life left a cold feeling in her gut and she had to take another deep breath to chase it away.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

About 30 feet away from her position behind the tree, the rustling came to a stop. She kept as still as she could, holding her breath and forcing her eyes to stare straight ahead into the labyrinth of writhing shadows ahead of her, her ears straining to hear past the sudden silence that encased her. The air itself shuddered, vibrating her surroundings, as she held her breath. Flickers of fracturing light appearing and disappearing from somewhere in the forest momentarily caught her attention.

It was then the steps continued to draw closer to her, slower, perhaps cautious. She needed to act, she had the element of surprise and she needed to use it to her advantage, whatever advantage she may have. Her inner turmoil was allowing the threat to get closer to her position and even her instincts were urging her to do it now!

But she stayed frozen. The ungodly terror that wracked through her body was coming to a head and despite how hard she tried to stomp it back down, it wouldn’t budge. It just kept overflowing into her bloodstream; her fight-or-flight response fractured and her limbs became heavy and useless. She had mere moments to do something before the threat was on her and she wasn’t ready to die, strange land or not.

‘If you don’t move your fucking legs right now, I swear to God!’ Sam screamed internally at herself, as she felt the near uncontrollable urge to cry, the burn incessantly pressing behind her eyes.

15 feet away.

‘Sam, come on!’

10 feet away.

‘God damn it, Sam, move! Come on!’

5 feet away.

‘SAM!’

Sam spun away from the tree, gun aimed at the threat standing four feet in front of her. Her eyes narrowed, her breaths coming out harsh, and her body tense and ready to fight. But her hands were steady even though she could feel the adrenaline pulsing beneath her skin, ready to explode. As her sight zeroed in on the figure, her expression slackened and her eyes went wide for a different reason.

He was beautiful, stunning actually. He was incredibly tall, towering over Sam’s 5’10 stature and making her feel far more unprepared than she already was. His red hair cascaded down the nape of his neck and shoulders like liquid fire; his facial features were sharp, elegant despite the brutal scar that ran down the left side of his face. His eyes, god, his eyes. One eye was russet, a gorgeous brown with flecks of orange and red with the other seemingly shining like gold but there was something wrong about it. It looked more mechanical than natural and Sam took an involuntary step back. It wasn’t until her eyes caught the tips of his ears peaking out from beneath his hair that she sucked in a breath, her entire body attempting to resist the urge to tremble.

‘This is not real. This cannot be real.’

Sam mustered up as much confidence that was left in her, which honestly wasn’t much, and narrowed her eyes further at the man standing in front of her. Her right hand held high on the back-strap, her left supporting the other side of the pistol, her left wrist canting forward and locking them in place. Aimed, locked, cocked, and ready.

He held his hands up, taking a step back with his palms out to face her as he took in the weapon aimed directly at his chest and the woman holding it. He spoke in a language that she couldn’t understand but sounded familiar. Even his voice sounded beautiful, low, and cautious as his eyes flickered between her and the weapon. Even though she couldn’t understand him, she could read his body language.

He stayed completely still, unnaturally still, with his hands still raised in front of him. He was speaking gently, no doubt trying to defuse the situation, but the pure, unadulterated terror continued to seep out of Sam’s pores even though she remained steady. While her body was telling her that he was absolutely a threat and she should bolt, her mind was warring with itself, claiming that he hadn’t hurt her yet despite the gun trained on him and him obviously able to outmaneuver her quickly if he wanted to.

“I can’t understand you,” Sam said, lowering her weapon an inch but keeping the death grip on it. “Do you speak English?”

He cocked his head to the side in confusion and his eyes continued to drift between her and the weapon she had. He seemed confused not only with her but with the pistol in her hands.

A language barrier. Great.

He tried speaking again, motioning with his hands slowly to the area around them and then back to her.

She shook her head, aiming the weapon a little lower to the ground. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

He sighed heavily and slowly lowered his hands. Sam lowered her firearm but did not holster it, her body slowly easing out of its braced stance but the adrenaline continued to flow through her veins, ready to do whatever was necessary. The red-haired stranger motioned to the area around them again and to her, frustration painting his face.

Sam stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge what he was trying to convey. She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow, prompting him to repeat the gesture with his hands once more.

“How did I end up here?” She asked, doing the same hand signs he did as she spoke trying to gauge a reaction to see if she was on the right track.

He lit up for a second, motioning again and speaking the strange words along with it in an effort to help her follow along. Sam clicked the safety on and holstered her gun after a beat, putting her blind trust in this stranger standing across from her. He was the first person she had seen and if there was any chance of her getting out of this forest, it would likely be through him. She would need both hands to try and communicate.

“I. woke up. Here.” Sam pointed to herself, mimed waking up, and then gestured to the area.

He seemed to catch on, nodding his head towards her before gesturing again.

Sam watched his hands intently and then moved her gaze to his mouth, trying to piece together a sentence. This was a lot more difficult than she thought. “How...did...you...uh...shit, do that again, how did you...far? How did you...far...what?...trees?” Sam blinked as he patiently repeated the actions. “How did I get so far out in the woods? Fuck, I’m taking a sign language course when I get back home,” Sam rubbed her face, no doubt looking far worse for wear than she ever had in her life. “I. Walked.” She moved her pointer and middle finger back and forth to imitate a person walking. “After. Waking up.” She mimed again, pointing up to the treetops. “I don’t know where I am.” Sam drew an invisible question mark in the air, changing her expression to confusion, and then motioned to their surroundings.

He pushed his hair up, showing his pointed ears and Sam felt a flash of fear rush through her at the sight of them. He quickly held his hands up to her again, his palms facing her, clearly indicating that he would not harm her. She watched him point to the side of her head and she tucked her hair back behind her rounded ear with shaking hands. He blinked, straightening a little more, and looked at her eyes. She was suddenly being evaluated by this...fae, his eyes running over her face and body, taking stock of what was in front of him. She did her absolute best to hide her nervousness but he had already seen it.

He nodded to her, lowering his hands, his expression changing to one of understanding. He pointed to himself, “Lucien.” He then gestured to her and drew a question mark in the air.

Sam tilted her head, “Loosin?”

He chuckled very softly, a melodic sound that sent tingles down her spine, and shook his head, putting a hand against his chest and repeating slower, “Lucien.”

“Looscen?”

Slower. “Lucien.”

“Lucien.” Sam dragged out, allowing her tongue to press against the roof of her mouth, behind her front teeth in a way it wasn’t used to. “Lucien.” She said more confidently.

He nodded to her, pointing to her with the question mark in the air again.

“Sam.” She pointed to herself. “Sam.”

It took far less time for him to get the sound of her name right, only having to hear it twice before he spoke it back to her. She nodded, a weight lifting off her shoulders for a moment.

It was a crude variation of sign language that they were trying to communicate with. It was amazing, really, how easily they both seemed to fall into it despite the circumstances. Desperately trying to express themselves with hand signals and words spoken in two different languages; it was almost shocking to them both how they assisted each other in attempting to understand. They were complete strangers, obviously very different from one another but still trying to form a figurative olive branch, a peace offering between them, and taking time to assist each other.

A question mark was drawn in the air. “Can you help me?” Sam pointed to him, clasped her hands together, and then pointed to herself hoping it was enough.

Lucien seemed to grasp what she was trying to ask and was in the middle of making a few more hand motions when suddenly he stopped. Sam saw him tense for a moment before turning his head to the left, looking out towards a patch of dense wood that was beginning to lighten with the rising sun. Sam turned to the direction that he was looking in, reaching for the holster of her gun when she finally heard the noise that caught his attention.

A long, low-pitched howl pierced the night and it made every hair on her body stand up. Her whole body turned ice cold as she became paralyzed with fear, an empty feeling growing in her gut that told her that what she thought that howl was...was far worse than what she expected.

Wisps of smoke formed on a shadow's edge in the trees, slowly taking form. Sam was caught between curiosity and terror, the latter winning out. The gray smoke gathered tightly together, evolving into a shape, an animal shape that grew larger and larger the longer she stared. Smaller clusters of the same smokey vapor started to appear beside the first, now in the shape of a rather large dog, and Sam’s bladder felt the urge to release.

Lucien’s eyes snapped down to Sam’s as she took a step back, getting ready to flee. He shook his head, looking slightly apologetic before grabbing Sam’s hand and yanking her along, running deeper into the forest in the opposite direction of the smokey hounds.

It was a mighty effort trying to keep up with his long legs and his speed. She was at a horrible disadvantage in comparison and hard as she might, she could not keep up with him. He seemed to realize that she would only continue to slow him down as her shoulder almost dislocated for the second time in a short span of their frantic running. There was no doubt that they were being pursued by those beasts and the thought of being captured urged her forward, her legs still sore from earlier. Lucien stopped short and Sam tumbled into him, colliding with his back with a harsh OOMPH! Lucien looked down at her as he caught her, giving her an apologetic look again.

All of a sudden, it was a whirlwind. Everything decided to spin, so fast that she was dizzy and her grip on Lucien tightened to near bone-crushing. Her eyes squeezed shut as she felt like she was being pushed through a tube that was way too small. Her lungs screamed for air even though all she could smell was a bonfire and apples.

As sudden as it happened, the sensation stopped and she was back on solid ground. She ripped away, from Lucien, her boots sinking in sand, to double over and breathe deeply. If she had anything in her stomach it definitely would have made a reappearance.

“What the fuck was that? Did we just apparate? What kind of Harry Potter shit did you just pull?” Sam rushed out, standing up and waving her hands in fast movements, looking up at Lucien who was smiling faintly even though he didn’t understand a word she was yelling. This motherfucker had the audacity to find this funny. There was nothing funny about this situation and she felt the urge to vomit.

Lucien, at least, had the decency to try and hide his smile as he moved his hands from one place to another, trying to explain what they just did and Sam straightened her back with hands on her hips. She was about to give him an earful, one that he would no doubt not understand, when their surroundings finally caught her eye.

It was a sea of sand underneath bright sunshine and shimmering heat. Sam wanted to squint her eyes at the sudden brightness but its beauty forced her eyes wide. Sandstone buildings stood tall against the horizon and the sound of a flowing river met her ears. She didn’t know where to look, everything was so beautiful and bright, a vibrant energy pulsing through her as she stood under the sun’s golden rays. Fluffy, cotton-looking clouds drifted across the blue sky and birds singing their melodies danced on the breeze.

She turned to Lucien, absolute awe overtaking her features. She moved her hands but didn’t know what to say or how to say it, so she drew a question mark in the air, blinking in shock.

Lucien pointed to the sun and then tapped his wrist as if he was wearing a watch. Sam, only nodded not quite understanding what he meant but didn’t know what else to ask, the landscape around them completely taking her breath away.

Lucien’s face softened a little and nodded in return, setting his hand between her shoulder blades to guide her forward towards the brilliant city, the fragrant scent of rose blooms, jasmine, and lavender filling her senses. Her eyes were so wide in wonder, soaking up as much of the visuals as she could that she didn’t realize they were walking into the city center. She watched colorful butterflies flutter from flower to flower, the smell of grilled meats and spices filled her nostrils, and laughter and chatter from people, other fae, were meeting her ears.

She subconsciously covered her ears with her hair, not wanting to draw even more attention to herself than she already was. Lucien tapped her on her shoulder and she looked up at him, asking the question silently with her expression. He tapped his nose and then nodded to her and her face drained of color.

She didn’t have to cover her ears because they could smell she was human. They could smell the still damp mud caking her clothes and shoes, the scent of the forest clinging to her clothes like a second skin, and the dried blood from the cuts littering the exposed skin from being in the woods. She suddenly wanted to remain ignorant of what else they could possibly sense from her.

Lucien gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he walked confidently through the courtyard, leading up to a sandstone palace. Sam’s neck popped as she tilted her head back to look up at the stunning building in its full glory. Large windows, balconies, breezeways, and staircases made up the towering palace, vines of wisteria overflowing from railings and climbing up the walls. Sam had never seen somewhere so beautiful in person before.

What is this place?

She had so many questions but with the language barrier, they stayed unanswered, and the thought of being able to get home returned to her again. Would she be able to get home? How did she get here to begin with? Where would she begin to start finding her way back home? She felt the tears well up and she shoved the thought aside, it still wasn’t time for her break down. She would have to wait, store it up, and bury it deep down until she had a moment of privacy to process her journey so far and the repercussions of it.

Lucien was speaking to two fae guards, dressed in striking gold and white armor. Sam couldn’t help but shift from foot to foot in nervousness under their gaze as they assessed her and whatever Lucien was saying. She was so out of place that it was painful. She knew some of the whispers coming from around her were about her, judging by other fae pointing or motioning to her. She sighed, and even though they could tell she was nervous and lost, she clenched her teeth and stood up straight, the full weight of her false confidence snapping into place. She would fake it until she made it.

It was a few more moments before the guards stepped aside and allowed Lucien and Sam to pass through. Even though Lucien seemed to stick out like a sore thumb with his red hair among the dark and blonde-haired fae, he seemed to glide through the gates to the palace like he owned the place. Sam followed behind him, looking at the beautiful lush gardens spilling out from the walkway as they ascended the steps to the doors.

If Sam thought Lucien was beautiful before, she had no words to describe the fae male standing just beyond the doors of the palace. Striking? Handsome? Nothing came close to describing the power vibrating around him. If she had to get close, he was the sun personified. His dark hair fell in onyx waves, his dark sun-kissed skin gleamed in the light, and his smile was welcoming but deadly. He was wearing what Sam could only describe as a toga, something you read about Greek gods wearing, and an intricate golden crown sat upon his head. For a moment, a sudden sadness struck her and she missed Melissa. She would love this place and its people.

The Greek god-looking fae smiled warmly at Lucien as he came to a stop, speaking in their native tongue and no doubt explaining what little information he had acquired about the situation to him. His eyebrows raised and he kept glancing Sam’s way, curiosity shining in those golden orbs. Sam could tell he was a wealth of knowledge, his eyes were older than his physical body and for the countless times since she had been in this strange land, she felt horribly inadequate.

He turned to her, taking her hand gently in his. Warmth poured out of him and into her body, chasing the cold that seemed to linger in her bones. “Helion.”

Sam, who lost her breath at those amber eyes turning to her, replied softly, “Sam.” His name was normal enough for her to latch onto it.

A messenger boy ran up, holding a black envelope with a silver wax seal out for Helion. Lucien tensed at the sight of it and Sam knew he recognized the writing. Helion nodded to the boy, handing a sliver of gold over, and opened the envelope. Whatever was written on it seemed to pique Helion’s curiosity even more because he stared at Sam while handing the letter to Lucien, who in turn took it and read it. Sam felt like she was under a microscope when Lucien looked up at her next.

She shuffled from foot to foot, feeling a nervous energy fall into her. Helion turned to Lucien, speaking again and motioning around the palace. Lucien bowed his head and put his hand between her shoulders again, guiding her forward.

Sam drew a question mark in the air and Lucien was quick to respond, moving his hands slowly, motioning to her dirty clothes, and tapping his stomach.

“Clothes and food?” Sam asked out loud, mimicking eating with a fork.

Lucien nodded and helped her up the stairs, following behind two gorgeous female faes who appeared from nowhere.

As she followed beside Lucien, a deep feeling of gratitude settled in her chest and she looked up at him. This stranger, this male fae, who didn’t speak the same language as her had helped her, immediately and brought her to what she hoped was a safe place. He did all of that for a human he didn’t know. Her heart hurt at the sheer magnitude of her emotions and she tried to regain her composure as they stopped in front of a door.

Lucien nodded to what Sam assumed were the equivalent of the palace maids and opened the door for Sam to peer inside the room. Sam almost cried at the beauty of it; the golden detailing so elegantly complimenting the white linens and lush carpet. The massive bed was filled with fluffy pillows and cozy blankets, the floor-to-ceiling windows draped in soft golden fabrics and leading out onto a huge balcony overlooking the gardens they walked by earlier. A golden chandelier cascading with diamonds hung from the ceiling as the main centerpiece. Wing-backed chairs gathered around a glass table, separating the sleeping area from the sitting area, with golden trays of grapes, soft cheeses, cured meats, and what looked like red wine.

Sam looked down at her boots, frowning. She would track mud everywhere and ruin the crisp, clean carpet. Lucien tapped her shoulder and shook his head, waving his hand, which Sam took as ‘you don’t have to worry’. She nodded and slowly stepped into the room, taking it all in and opening the door to a closet filled with light dresses and skirts in a variety of colors. She turned and opened another door, leading into a sandstone bathroom, soft white towels hung from golden rods, and luscious soaps and oils sat on the ledge of what could only be described as a small pool.

Sam turned to Lucien who was waiting patiently by the bedroom door. Sam drew a question mark in the air, again. “Are you going to wait for me?” She pointed to him and her wrist.

Lucien motioned to where he was standing and then pointed away down the hall, indicating he would leave, but he hurriedly pointed back to where he was and knocked on the door, letting her know he would come back by and collect her.

Sam walked towards him, taking his hands in his and looking into his eyes. She pushed all her gratitude into the way she held his hands, “Thank you, Lucien, thank you.” She hoped it was enough. She hoped he could understand her without their signals.

He understood.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“How is it, that every time something is amiss, the Night Court is somehow involved?”

Lucien looked up from his seat in front of Helion’s desk. Helion’s study was a room of comfort and knowledge. Books, papers, and little objects holding down piles of notes littered almost every surface in the room but he knew it was all organized. For all his charisma and charm, Helion was an adamant scholar, busying himself with reading, writing, and capturing as much knowledge as he could about as many topics as possible.

Lucien scoffed, “I’ve been asking myself that same question for centuries and have yet to come up with an answer.”

Helion smiled, settling back into his chair. “So, you came across her in the Autumn Court’s forest and you took pity on her?”

“I did. I’m sure you felt the tremors a few days ago. Clearly, it was felt in the Night Court as well if Rhysand is sending his warriors to your borders.” Lucien replied, leaning back in his chair and sipping on the small glass of whiskey Helion had offered him. “I thought it wise to bring her here, where she would be safe, rather than subjecting her to Beron and my brothers.”

Helion suppressed a snarl at the mention of the Autumn High Lord. “And you believe this human, Sam, has something to do with what's going on?”

Lucien gave a halfhearted shrug, fingering the edge of the glass. “I’m not sure but it is not simply a coincidence that Prythian felt its wards shudder and then suddenly a human female turns up so far inland, speaking a different language, looking completely different than the humans we know, and has items on her that we have never seen. She was terrified of me when she saw what I was. If she doesn’t have something to do with it, then that’s one hell of a coincidence.”

Helion made a noise of agreement, “I will say that I agree with you but can we trust her? You’ve only known her for a few hours and now she is a guest in my home.”

“I believe we can. She’s scared and she can’t communicate with us; she needs our help.”

“I’m pleased to see that you still have a soft spot for others after all these years.”

Lucien sighed, his thoughts turning to his upbringing in Autumn and the Hybern wars. “There is no victor in hatred nor is there peace.” He looked out the window overlooking the city center. “We fought for them, the humans. We endured insurmountable pain because of Hybern’s prejudice against them and their need for control; we didn’t send our armies to war for us to turn our backs on them now. We didn’t fight so the world could go back to the way it was. We didn’t sacrifice our people for nothing.” He paused as the weight of his words filled the air, the ghosts of his pain flashed in his mind. “So I didn’t leave her. I offered my hand because it meant something. It means something.”

Helion nodded slowly, his eyes assessing his son, “I’m sure it means everything to that human female. To Sam.” He turned his gaze to the black envelope sitting in front of him. “I’m sure Rhysand will want to take the lead in this situation.”

“I think you should let him,” Lucien said causing Helion’s eyebrows to rise. “Feyre, Nesta, and….Elain...they were human once. I’m sure they have better insight than we do.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Helion agreed. “Rhysand is also daemati, as is Feyre, they will be able to assess if she is a threat or not.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed, “You’re going to allow them to access her mind?”

“Rhysand doesn’t use his gift without express permission from the individual.”

“But she can’t give it. She doesn’t speak our language, there’s no way I would be able to explain what it is he does with simple hand motions and facial expressions.” Lucien insisted hurriedly. While he trusted Rhys and the members of the Night Courts Inner Circle, the thought of a helpless human being taken advantage of like that caused his fists to clench.

“Rhysand has many objects in the Court of Nightmares, one of which is a silver bean that Sam can ingest that will allow her to speak and understand our language. She will have the knowledge for the rest of her life.” Helion supplied easily, leaning forward on his desk. “I know many things about my fellow High Lord; Rhys is a good male, he will take the lead in this situation and I have no doubt that he will find an answer to help her, do not worry.”

Lucien’s shoulders seemed to loosen some tension and he nodded his head to show his agreement. “Is it safe to assume that they are on their way here?”

Helion hummed, “Yes, it would be safe to assume that. I sent a messenger out about an hour ago.”

Lucien rolled his eyes but cracked a small smile at what he knew now was his blood father. “Never mind that you have the Emissary of the Night Court in your study who could have done that for you.”

“Yes, never mind that,” Helion grinned as he stood up and straightened his clothes. “If I had to guess, they would likely arrive after dinner, so let’s collect our little human and give her some food. The poor child could use some nourishment,” He paused and tilted his head. “and possibly some strong liquor.”

Lucien snorted, rising as well. “Just set a pitcher of faerie wine in front of her, she’ll likely need it.”

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

hiii . I saw ur requests are open and if u still do fics can u do ac Valhalla hytham x reader? Reader is an artist and hytham enjoys his time with them , also their drawings, maybe he goes through the papers she drew on and sees himself? And he thanks the reader with a kiss.:3

U can change anything u don’t like in this request i just want a fic about my boy hytham .😭😭

Canvas of Secrets

Pairing: Hytham x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: if you count that i love writing yearning and falling in love with Hytham instead of actually having a relationship with him lol THE YEARNING GUYS HE'S A YEARNINER MATERIAL!!!

Note: I feel like I need to get back into the writing mood, writing vibe because its still off for me??? Lemme know I tried my best with my lil fried brain :(

The mid-morning sun bathed Ravensthorpe in a soft, welcoming light, casting long shadows as villagers busied themselves with their daily tasks. The rhythmic clang of blacksmith's hammers and the lively chatter of merchants created a symphony of everyday life. Amid this bustling activity, Hytham moved with a sense of purpose, his mind focused on his duties as a Hidden One. 

Based on the documents Eivor found, another possible target appeared on the horizon, although he still had to do some research to make sure the information was true.

However, that day somehow work eluded the man as he passed by the edge of the settlement, where a small group of children had gathered around a figure seated on a low stool. Curious, he approached, drawn by the sounds of laughter and the sight of animated faces. Sharp laughter rang out in the air, but not with the usual gaiety of children- instead, he heard a soft, restrained laugh.

As he drew closer, he saw you surrounded by the little ones, gleaming eyes watching you, your hands deftly sketching on a large sheet of parchment. The children watched in awe as you brought a scene to life before their eyes, pencil strokes fluid and confident. You were capturing the essence of a lively market, complete with bustling stalls and cheerful passers-by.

Hytham paused, intrigued not only by your talent but also by the way you engaged the children, patiently answering all their questions, letting them try out anything and everything that piqued interest in their little heart from your work.. You glanced up, sensing his presence, offering him a warm smile.

"Ah, Hytham! Come, join us," you called out, your voice light and inviting. "We're just sketching the market today."

He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just passing by as I heard your little gathering having a good time." He smiled warmly at you.

You waved off his concern with a flick of your hand. "You're not intruding at all. Here, take a look." You held up the drawing, and Hytham marveled at the intricate details and the lively energy that seemed to emanate from the paper.

"You're incredibly talented," he remarked, genuine admiration in his voice.

You chuckled softly. "Thank you. Drawing has always been my way of capturing the world. It helps me see things more clearly, appreciate the beauty in everyday moments."

Hytham nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I can see that. Your drawings have a way of bringing things to life." Hytham chuckled, his eyes flickering between the drawing and her face, admiring the details and the skill that went into it

A child tugged at your sleeve, drawing your attention back to the group. "Can we draw the animals next?" the child asked eagerly.

"Of course!" you replied, ruffling the child's hair affectionately. "Let's find a good spot near the stables."

As the children gathered their papers and pencils, you turned to Hytham once more. "You're welcome to join us, Hytham."

He nodded in response, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips at her invitation, a rare sight that made your heart skip a beat. He then glanced over at the children and thought for a moment before replying.

Very well. I'll join you. He agreed quietly.

Hytham followed her lead as she guided the children over to a spot near the stables where there was enough room for all of them. As they settled down and everyone began drawing the animals around them, Hytham took a moment to observe the scene before him. He chuckled softly at the children's excited chatter and laughter, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. The day passed in a blur of laughter, sketches, and shared stories. Hytham found himself returning to your side time and time again, drawn by your infectious enthusiasm and the sense of peace that seemed to radiate from you. He watched as you guided the children's hands, teaching them to see the world through the eyes of an artist.

As the sun began to set and the children dispersed, you and Hytham found yourselves alone by the stables. Whipping your hands on your apron you joined him at the end of the stalls. Hytham leaned back against the wall of the stable idly, his eyes fixated on the setting sun. He chuckled softly, feeling a sense of peace and contentment in the moment. Once the children had left and it was just the two of you left, he turned his gaze towards you. Yours eyes met and he noticed the warm, knowing look in your eyes. You held his gaze for a moment before speaking quietly in a calm voice, breaking the silence between the two of you.

"Thank you for spending the day with us, Hytham. It was nice to have you here."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. " It was my pleasure to spend the day with you and the children. They're a playful and curious bunch, it was refreshing to be around such innocence. I enjoyed it more than I expected. You have a way of making even the simplest moments feel extraordinary."

You blushed at the compliment, your heart fluttering. "I'm glad you think so. Sometimes, it's the little things that matter most."

He glanced at the drawings scattered around, his gaze lingering on a particularly detailed sketch of a horse. "You have a talent for this, you know. These drawings. They're beautiful."

Your blush deepened, and you looked away, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you, Hytham. That means a lot."

Hytham noticed the way her blush deepened and how she looked away shyly, his smile softening at the sight of her shyness. He chuckled softly and pushed off the wall of the stable, taking a few steps closer to her.

“It's the truth.” He stated softly, his gaze fixed on her with a warm, genuine look in his eyes as he spoke. “You have a gift for capturing beauty on paper.”

 "This has always brought the greatest happiness to my life." You replied, crossing your arms in front of your chest, walking up to the wall and joining him to admire the colors of the setting sun. "The days pass quickly, and we often forget the things that bring us happiness as time goes on. There are memories I don't want to forget. So I learned how to preserve them.”

“And that gift will last a lifetime.” He replied softly, his eyes fixed on the gorgeous hues of orange and red as the sun descended below the horizon.”Memories are important. They make us who we are, after all.” 

"They do," you murmured softly, a smile playing on your lips. "Memories shape us in ways we sometimes don't realize until much later."

Hytham nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still fixed on the horizon where the sun had disappeared. "I never used to think much about memories," he admitted quietly. "My life as a Hidden One demanded focus on the present and the future. But being here with you, experiencing these moments... I realize how much they matter."

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his. "I'm glad you feel that way, Hytham. It's important to cherish the moments that make us feel alive."

Hytham's gaze flickered towards her at the feeling of her fingers brushing against his. A touch that sent a small shiver up his spine. He looked back at her with a softened gaze and a small, warm smile.

“And moments like this?” He gestured with his head to the setting sun and then to their surroundings in the stables, his smile growing slightly. “Are they moments that will stay with you in memory?”

You considered his question, taking in the peaceful scene around you—the gentle rustling of the leaves, the faint scent of hay, and the quiet companionship between you both. The beauty of the moment seemed to intensify with his presence beside you.

"Yes," you replied softly, meeting his gaze. "When shared with someone special, they become the heartbeats of our memories. They're the ones we carry with us, even as time passes."

Hytham's eyes held a gentle intensity as he listened, a small smile playing on his lips. He seemed to absorb your words, savoring the tranquility of the moment, the connection between you both.

He leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours in the cool evening air. "And I want to make more memories like this—with you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, overwhelmed by the sincerity and depth of his feelings. You reached out, cupping his cheek gently in your hand. "I want that too, Hytham," you replied softly, as if afraid this moment  will disappear if spoken out loud. 

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch. "Then let's cherish this one," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss that spoke of promises yet to be made, and a future waiting to unfold..

Hytham leaned into the touch of your hand on his cheek, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he reveled in the sensation of your touch and words. He felt a wave of emotions swelling within him—a mixture of gratitude, hope, and a sense of belonging he had long suppressed, and he couldn't deny the longing that stirred in his heart at the thought.

As he opened his eyes and looked at you, a soft, vulnerable look in his eyes, he took in your beauty under the golden light...

You reached up, gently threading your fingers through his hair, cherishing the softness of his dark locks beneath your touch.

Hytham's heart skipped a beat at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He let out a low, almost inaudible sigh, closing his eyes momentarily as he enjoyed the sensation of your touch. It was a simple gesture, but it felt intimate and tender, a connection that seemed to deepen with every passing moment.

He swallowed, his words barely above a whisper as he spoke, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability and tenderness."I've long kept my heart guarded, hidden beneath the weight of duty and the shadows of my past," Hytham murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes remained closed, savoring the intimacy of your touch, the way your fingers threaded through his hair with such gentleness.

"But with you," he continued softly, opening his eyes to meet yours, "it feels as though the walls I've built around myself are slowly crumbling. Your presence... your touch... they awaken something within me that I thought I had lost."

His admission hung in the air, vulnerable yet filled with an honesty that spoke of deeper emotions. The golden light of the setting sun cast a warm glow over both of you, lending an almost ethereal quality to the moment.

You felt your heart swell with tenderness at his words, understanding the weight they carried. Gently, you let your hand caress his cheek, your touch conveying comfort and acceptance. "Hytham," you whispered, your voice soft with emotion, "you don't have to carry that weight alone anymore. I'm here, and I want to share whatever burdens you carry."

Hytham's gaze softened at your words, and he reached up, gently resting his hand over yours as it gently caressed his cheek.

"Thank you," he murmured sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude. "For seeing beyond the surface, for... for accepting me."

You nodded, a small smile touching your lips as you met his gaze with unwavering compassion. "You've shown me glimpses of who you are beneath the armor, Hytham," you replied softly. "And what I see... it's someone deserving of love and happiness."

The evening breeze stirred around you, carrying with it the quiet intensity of the moment. You stood together, bathed in the fading light of the sun, united in a bond that grew deeper with each shared revelation and tender touch.

When the world around you settled into dusk, you knew that this moment marked a new chapter—a chapter where walls crumbled, hearts opened, and the promise of a future filled with understanding and love blossomed under the gentle caress of an evening's embrace.

[triflesandparsnips]

I'm not seeing enough deep-dive nonsense about the new Good Omens season 2 poster drop on my dash, and by god that means I must be the one to deliver it.

For those who haven't seen it yet, behold:

...there's a lot in here to go a wee bit feral over, if one was so inclined, and lord knows I love an inclination.

The Obvious Stuff

1. There Was Only One Bed Chair

This is the bulk of the commentary I've seen, and tbh, it's pretty great. "I am bored/busy and ignoring you but also what is personal space, never heard of her, we will not be taking questions at this time."

Notably, however, this is the second time we've seen them back to back-- the majority of the poster art we saw for the first season had them side by side. In both cases they're in a position to face some third thing together-- the difference, perhaps, is that side by side might imply equality of situation, while back to back implies implicit trust that the other won't stab you there.

2. The bookshop

Aw, look at them. Look at it. What a glorious little mess. This is them in London. Arizaphale looks pleased with the situation; Crowley looks bored af but he's also squished up on that one dang chair, so there's a "cat sitting next to you because parallel play and mirroring are the Best Interactions" feel to it.

3. Tea and wine

Arizaphale's got a teacup, Crowley's got a wine glass, this is very Them and indicative of their Vibes. Tbh, I think this is just a nice bit of design work, but it's worth calling out.

4. The outside street

The shop across the way is using a Gothic and reads "GIVE ME" before being cut off. No clue what it means, but it probably means something.

5. The tagline

The previous tagline we got was "Something's going down in the Up" (with that grey feather falling between their black and white wings)-- this tagline reads "Everyday it's a-getting closer."

Easiest interpretation is, oho, we're getting closer to the second season, and gosh there will be some Plot in it. And sure, yes, it works for that too, huzzah. But leaving aside the "it" and what that may mean-- "a-getting" is a fascinating word choice. It evokes similar constructions like, say, the somewhat obscure "Sumer is icumen in" (a song about the changing of the seasons and also encouraging a cuckoo to go lay some eggs in other birds nests if u no wat im sayin eyyyyy)-- and the significantly less obscure protest song "The Times They Are A-Changin'", whose ending stanza is:

The line it is drawn

The curse it is cast

The slow one now

Will later be fast

As the present now

Will later be past

The order is rapidly fadin'

And the first one now

Will later be last

For the times they are a-changin'

Gosh.

Now the Real Fun Starts

This poster is a composite image (as so many ads are), composed of different bits and pieces to form a whole impression -- based on fun stuff like relative pixelation and whatnot, you can often tell what portions of an image were there to start with, and what were specifically added in after the fact. How packed this poster is in tiny details -- which is exactly where I would hide fun hints to things -- is generally a cue for me to take a closer look, and I have been, I think, rewarded.

1. The books with legible titles

Zoom in on Aziraphale's book-- he's reading Charles Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities. The "two cities" in play are Paris and London, and the book is set before and during the French Revolution.

It's the story of a man who had been previously imprisoned in the Bastille for 18 years, and then was released to go live with his daughter -- who he has never met, what with the whole "imprisoned" thing -- in London.

The opening paragraph is:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

The pile of books in the foreground have two visible titles: the topmost one is Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (a "novel of manners" that's considered a heavy-hitting romantic classic, and also yes the leads are both prideful and prejudiced and it takes an entire book for them to clear that up) and Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island (a young adult coming-of-age adventure story about a kid who finds himself on an adventure with a bunch of pirates to discover buried treasure).

Of note: A Tale of Two Cities, Pride and Prejudice, and Treasure Island also all have note tabs sticking out of them, and are the only books that have them. This is reminiscent of how Arizaphale studied and referenced Agnes Nutter's prophecies.

Some of the books beneath the window technically have titles, but they appear to be about as pixelated as the rest of that section, and so I suspect they're just part of the scenery.

Similarly, most of the books on the background shelves are like that as well, except:

Joseph Heller's Catch-22 (A satirical novel set in World War II; Wikipedia briefly explains that "the novel examines the absurdity of war and military life through the experiences of Yossarian and his cohorts, who attempt to maintain their sanity while fulfilling their service requirements so that they may return home." The book also coined the phrase "catch-22," which is a situation someone can't escape because of paradoxical rules-- in the case of the book, you can't ask to be evaluated for insanity so that you can be exempt from flying dangerous missions, because "anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn't really crazy.")

Iain Banks's The Crow Road (and a first edition, perhaps? I haven't read it, but apparently it's a Scottish family drama about a perfect murder against the backdrop of the 1990s Gulf War. Its opening line is "It was the day my grandmother exploded." The phrase "the crow road" is a euphemism, in the book, for death.)

Joseph Conrad's Lord Jim (Sparknotes says it's "the story of a man named Marlow's struggle to tell and to understand the life story of a man named Jim" -- a young man who goes to sea, makes a terrible and cowardly decision while following his leaders, and then spends the rest of his life haunted by it.)

There's at least one extra, partially obscured title:

It appears to read "THE BODY ------ and ------", which makes me wonder if it's an anthology of murder mystery short stories.

Leaving aside the uncertain book, commonalities between many of these books include:

soldiers, war, and the horrors/absurdities thereof

doubles and parallels

death and murder

a young/inexperienced protagonist thrown in with more experienced/weirder folk

fragmented and out of order narratives, sometimes having to be pieced together from multiple viewpoints

...pirates

2. The strange but noticeable inserts

There are several images that have been inserted into the poster that -- unlike the teacup and wine glass mentioned above -- don't seem to make a lot of contextual sense and are therefore, perhaps, extra information. These include:

a. the three lizard boys

b. the broken smartphone

c. the matchbox with the quote on the side

d. the camera

e. this statuette that seems suspicious

f. this record and scroll that seem out of place

g. the clockface with the missing hand (which may be just for the Aesthetic, but whatever, I'm including it)

What do they mean? No clue. I suspect it will become apparent as we get trailers and/or the actual show.

In Conclusion

Uh.

Look. Design teams can do all sorts of things for all sorts of reasons. All of this could mean absolutely nothing.

But.

Using my magical powers of bullshit deduction, I might look at all this, and that grey feather falling from the earlier poster, and say... well... the war's still ongoing, yeah? So maybe... maybe there needs to be a new angel keeping an eye on things on Earth. Or an eye specifically on Aziraphale and Crowley.

And that would look SUSPICIOUS, right? So this is an angel who's maybe... a little bit Fallen. For the sake of the Mission. Like, they've agreed to sin just a lil bit, just enough to justify being thrown out of Heaven, and they're not actively in Hell because they're, oh, just stopping off, or maybe just going really slowly, or maybe they were sent back up from Hell because they were still "too good" and all that Pureness of Spirit was stinking up the place--

Whatever. Point is, they're on Earth, they're very confused, it sure would be nice if these very Established metaphysical elders could give them a few hints about how to get on. We'd then get to enjoy a Guide to Living a Totally Normal Human Life given by these two disaster dorks, plus whatever nonsense is derived from, idk, various extraneous plot shenanigans, probably involving a Murder and maybe a MacGuffin Maltese Falcon.

And most importantly: this new angel? Wow no they couldn't possibly be a spy because again WOW, what kind of angel would deliberately Fall? Wouldn't that require doing the wrong thing to do a right thing? ...okay maybe, but can it really be wrong if it was done by command? ...well, wait, it surely must be wrong because otherwise the mechanism wouldn't have worked-- but then, wait, which thing was the wrong thing--

And Aziraphale and Crowley would watch this bouncing volley of cognitive dissonance with great interest, also possibly while holding hands.