#NO IT ISNT BUT IM SORRY OKAY

[creampill]

HI its ur husband in law and rival 🧃

oddly specific but can i ask for sova wanting to celebrate m!reader's bday which happens to also be on halloween?? tyty (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

hello this is your wife-in-law here with your government mandated sova fic

(if this isn’t want you wanted feel free to hate crime me I’m sorry)

Sova/Reader - Celebrations

Halloween was a foreign concept to Sova.

Of course, he knew the fundamentals. Dress in spooky costumes, go around and get candy then watch shitty horror movies for the night.

If he didn’t know, he would’ve learnt quickly, as some of his fellow Protocol agents were very excited about the holiday (legends say that Raze is still trying to convince Viper to dress up to this day).

But Sova had never celebrated it. It just wasn’t something that happened back home.

Birthdays, however? He’d done plenty of those.

Not only was he from a big family, but Sova was an especially sentimental man, so birthdays meant a lot to him. He'd both attended and planned many in his time; he knew how to pull out all the stops when a celebration needed celebrating.

This, however, was not how birthdays usually went. At least, in his experience.

"It's a classic," you teased, brandishing a DVD with the title 'Corpse Bride', "how haven't you seen it?"

"I'm not sure," he answered. He hadn't seen a DVD since his childhood, and even back then it was becoming an obsolete technology, so he was more shocked at how you managed to get your hands on one (and why the Protocol dorms had DVD players installed in their high-tech monitors).

You flopped onto your couch, various pillows surrounding you, and beckoned him over. He obliged, sitting on the opposite side.

"This is not how I'm used to birthdays going," he admitted, "but if it makes you happy, I'm happy."

You grinned, and he felt his heart melt a little. You clicked on the TV and said, "it's a Halloween tradition for me to watch it. Even if it wasn't my birthday, I'd probably ask you to watch it anyway."

He chuckled as the opening sequence began to play.

You looked over to him.

"Y'know, you don't have to sit that far away from me."

Sova swallowed thickly. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay," you smiled, "plus, it's my birthday. Don't I get a cuddle?"

With a little tired- and slightly bashful- sigh, Sova opened his arms. You happily accepted, cuddling right into him, so close that he could smell your hair and feel every dip and curve of you against him.

He was glad the movie was distracting you from his face, lest you see how red he got at the contact.

What a birthday, indeed.

[rusticfurnace]

// GHOSTSOAP x sailor song! (🔊 ON ) // suggestive imagery ⚠⚠⚠ individual panels:

[fearforthestorm]

breaking fucking news: misgendering real people is still bad even if you're doing it to cis people!

[plulp]

IM NOT A DOCTOR BUT I THINK I MIGHT BE ABLE TO HELP

[smiths-fan--13]

SHUT THE FUCK UP. I'm GROVELLINGGG I'm chewing my walls this is my gayest moment I'm like going insane holy FUCK

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[yoarasheesh]

Iida Tenya having a crush on his senpai - Iida Tenya x Reader

(headcanons that got out of hand and turned into a bullet-point scenario)

• You first met when your classes had joint training - 2-A, as the younger ones, were roleplaying as the injured, and 3-A as the rescue party.

• He was sitting, leaning on the wall behind him. Soon after the exercise has started, you ran into the faux-burning building and knelt next to him. After reading his casualty card, you took your mask off, looked him in the eyes, and said in a serious and reassuring tone "I'm gonna get you out of here - don't you worry"

• Oh boy. His heart sure did skip a beat.

• And then you just picked him up, like he doesn't weigh anything to you?! He's definitely not a small guy, and yet, you carried him out of the building on your shoulders with ease. He was really glad he was wearing his helmet, because he was absolutely certain that his face currently flashed a bright red color.

• After those classes, he paid a close attention to you at school. Whenever there was a chance to look at his upperclass men training, he was admiring your strength and dedication. He regretted not telling you how impressed he was by your confidence and professionalism after your common training, so he made sure to publicly praise you whenever there was a chance.

• If there was any occasion to do this without looking suspicious, he would go up to you and ask for advice about hero techniques, and also your plans after graduating ("it's very important to do research among your upperclassmen!!")

• He caught himself thinking about you more often - about your confidence and heroism, about the things others could take an example from (how maybe he would like to spend more time with you...)

• After he stated during lunch that your performance during the sports festival was brilliant, and your mastery of your quirk is exquisite, Uraraka pointed out that, well, Iida-kun must certainly have a crush on you, looking how much he talks about you, and *how* he talks about you.

• He immediately protested, although the red color of his face and increased speed of hand-chops were somewhat of a clue that he wasn't *exacly telling the truth*.

He said that it would be very unprofessional to go after your upperclassmen in a school preparing for serious work, and he shouldn't be distracted you from your studies, as you're nearing graduation! Also, it would be demeaning to your abilities, if he praised you only because he had a crush on you!

• But oh boy, did he have a crush on you. Obviously it wasn't the reason he admired you, actually, it was the other way around. He just for some strange reason felt the need to inform others how great you are. Maybe that was because he felt the need for others to agree how amazing you were, so he would feel more like a kohei trying to catch an occasion to learn from his upperclassmen, and less like a *hopelessly puppylove-striken schoolboy*?

• He obviously went to his older brother for advice.

• In short, Tensei told him that he shouldn't worry about your graduation, because after you graduate and start working it'll only get more busy. Besides, doing hero doesn't come in the way of romantic relationships *that much*, especially if both parties are in the same profession ("look at out parents for example!") And so what if you're older? If you think Tenya's a good guy for you, a year one way or another shouldn't matter.

• Well, he certainly helped with some of Tenya's dilemmas.

• He decided he should ask you out, if not on a proper date (yet!! he didn't want to come off as overbearing - and as a proper date he meant the real deal, a restaurant, fancy clothing, candle-light...), then at least to spend some time together outside of school.

• During lunch break he came up to your table and asked if he can speak with you privately, causing your friends to exchange curious glances. After you came with him to a place where it was unlikely for somebody to listen to your conversation, he bowed and asked if you would be willing to go for a walk with him after school. He understands if you decline, as he's sure you're a person who knows how to make themselves busy, and even if you don't have any other plans, you also don't have to go if you simply don't want to!

• After you agreed, he stood up straight again.

"Well, I'll see you then!" he said, while bowing his head again, and walked away to sit with his friends, his calm demeanour hiding the fact that his heart was absolutely pounding, and that he just felt more stress than in any of his hero training.

• As much as he felt it would be appropriate to dress more elegantly to a meeting with a girl, he kept reminding himself that it's casual, that this isn't a date, just a simple walk - that's why he finally decided to wear his usual polo shirt.

• He felt his heart skip a beat again when you came to the place you agreed upon, wearing civilian clothing. He liked very much how you looked in the U.A. uniform, and he didn't expect your casual wear to be so *cute*.

• As you walked around the campus park and you explained your special hero techniques to him, he thought how good it is that soon the society will have you as their hero. Your honesty and confidence were inspiring to him - he strived to be like you, as a hero.

• As you were sitting on a bench, he didn't notice when he zoned out - when instead focusing on your words, he thought how gorgeously your eyelashes surrounded your eyes, and how your cheeks were slightly flushed, and how your lips perfectly suited your face- *oh how he wanted to touch these lips*

• "Iida-kun?"

• *Oh no.* He panicked when he realised he was caught. He didn't know what to tell you, he just froze. He obviously couldn't tell you that he liked you, that would be *so* out of place-

• You turned your head to him, looking up to his flushed face.

"Why- why did you invite me to this walk, Iida-kun?" you asked after a few moments of silence, looking away, your hair falling down to cover your face.

• "I-..." he just stood there, looking at your face. But wait... Are- are you blushing? Is that what he's seeing? Oh no, did he embarass you?! Or... or maybe you felt the same way as him...?

He clenched his fist, feeling how much he was currently sweating.

• Suddenly, you grabbed his hand (*oh no, you're going to feel all the sweat on his hand!*) and looked him deep in the eyes.

• "Iida-kun, *how* do you feel about me?"

• He felt his heart pounding, and a nervous feeling in his stomach. But oh, how he loved this moment, you being so close, holding his hand... He admired your face, the flushing of your cheeks, the eyes looking at him with this *emotion* inside, the slight partment of the lips, awaiting the answer...

• As your faces got closer, he saw you looking through half lidded eyes at his lips, and he was unknowingly doing the same thing.

The next thing he knew, your soft lips were pressed agains his, the warmth from them coursing through his entire body. Oh, they might be just the softest thing he touched in his life.

His chest might just burst now. He felt his breath quicken, and his blood flowing - he squeezed your hand, delighting in the moment.

• As you two finally parted he looked you for a few moments, with something you could only describe as love-eyes... Until he suddenly stood up in front of you and bowed frantically.

• "Y/N-san, I like you!! Would you please be my girlfriend??"

[chernabogs]

I can see an entire bouquet matching Malleus 😭 Calla lily, Ivy, Red Salvia, NATSURIUM and White carnation with pecks of Daffodil and Fern

Don't feel obligated to use all of them! Chose whichever you find most suitable! I just could stop with one alone, the more prompts i read the more i had this idea for a story in my head

I think you and I had the same idea cooking LMAOOO I hope I did this well! <3 Thank you for the request!!

Sin Eater

Inc: Malleus, Reader, a sin eater, and one advisor WC: 3.4k Warnings: Heavy discussion of grief and coping with loss Flowers: Calla Lily (something at first sight), Ivy (we’ve always been friends but we were never just friends), Natsurium (I refuse to bury you), Daffodil (a god bows before a mortal), Fern (In a world of magic, the greatest miracle was you... subtly implied) Summary: A quiet conversation in a hall between a prince, a starving idol, and a body.

Their arrival is marked with the sombre chiming of Dragon City’s bells, which is the only reason Malleus knows they’re approaching Black Scale. The window of the bedroom you shared is wide open, letting in both the breeze and the song as he stands so still that one may consider him to be a mere statue on display. He feels equivalent to one; his breath is shallow, his body cold, and his expression far away enough that he hardly registers the carriage approaching. 

“Your highness?” A faint voice speaks by his right side. Malleus’ finger twitches at the sound as his emerald gaze slowly slides from the streets below to the advisor who is now anxiously twisting her sleeve. He can hardly remember her name—advisors come and go so often that they’ve become a blur in his mind—but he’s taken to calling her Scops due to the owlish stare that she always seems to wear around him. “The sin eater is here.”

Malleus stares for a moment before he looks back down to the courtyard. The carriage door is open, and a figure is now standing on the stone, speaking with one of the guards. The discussion is brief, ending with the guard walking to the doors and the figure looking upwards at the palace walls. A golden mask conceals their face, capturing the rays of the sun which battle through Briar Valley’s ever-present clouds, and they wear a simple black funeral suit. 

“I see that.” He replies curtly, his voice ungiving on how he’s really feeling. “They arrived quite quickly, didn’t they?” 

“I suppose they have,” Scops steps a bit closer to the window to look down at the sin eater. “Strange, really. It isn’t like their profession is a competitive market anymore.” 

Sin eaters used to be far more prominent in Briar Valley back when it was still Briar Nation, and old traditions were held to a greater esteem. Unfortunately, the changing of times meant the dismantling of old organizations and beliefs, rendering the sin eaters as nothing more than a token piece in a funeral party. Perhaps once they were esteemed in a religious fashion—but not anymore. Now they will sit for anyone, so long as they get their meal. 

You had always admired the old traditions, though. He remembers your avid interest in his family’s history, and the many nights you’d waste away in the library, reading tome after tome in delight. You had been the spearhead of a new age for old beliefs—revamping Briar Valley’s tourism through the demonstration of habits long dead—and you had made a difference. That’s why there is a sin eater here today. 

Malleus dislikes their presence, however. Them being here means that what he’s going through is not just a simple dream. He exhales through clenched teeth and forces his shoulders to relax as he turns on his heel and nods. 

“Regardless, it’s best not to keep guests waiting.”

_____________________________________________________________

The hallowed hall in which you lay is silent, even with the presence of the sin eater looming over your shrouded form. How they managed to move quickly enough that they arrived before Malleus did is something he decides not to question—nor does he question how they knew of the hall to begin with. Their profession is one that draws the most peculiar of magic users into it. Like a bloodhound, they caught your scent and followed it to the room. He’s surprised the guards who have been standing watch over you for a day now permitted them to enter. 

Malleus enters alone and waves for the room to be sealed. He notes the hesitation in his guard’s body language before they oblige, stepping away to pull the great wooden doors shut with a resounding boom that stirs a pair of birds residing in the rafters. Their wings flutter in distress as Malleus spares them a passing glance before returning his focus on the figure ahead. The sin eater has turned to look back at him, and he sees upon closer inspection that the mask they wear lacks a mouth. They incline their head in greeting before speaking in a surprisingly clear tone considering their facial obstruction. 

“Your grace. Forgive me for the intrusion before your arrival; I merely wished to prepare in advance.” Their voice is soft and low as they touch a hand to the place above their heart. Malleus hardly reacts to their words as he brushes past them to where you lay, body enshrouded in a white sheet with a torc affixed upon your neck. His fingers brush along its form; forged of mystium and gifted to you as a token by him. It was the closest he could get to a marriage declaration in the eyes of the Senate. 

“It’s hardly my place to prevent a sin eater from completing their role.” He replies languidly as his fingers skim off of the torc to rest on your chest. Stiff, still, and cold against his fingers. “I just wish you had not come to begin with.” 

He doesn’t wish to have you buried quite yet, but he knows he’s already pushing the limit of how long he can keep you. He kneels by the platform that holds your form as his fingers brush along the shroud that hides you. If he could, he would drag you off of this macabre display and back into the rooms you shared for so many decades together, to wrap you in his arms and pretend this isn’t happening. 

But that was foul. Utterly, utterly foul. Your body would putrefy and decay while he clung to a false hope of resurrection. 

No, the sin eater is here now. He just doesn’t want you out of sight quite yet. 

“Many do not welcome me, but I have never left without gratitude.” The sin eater replies softly. Like a god before a mortal, Malleus’ ethereal features are painted into a stony expression, his gaze still distant. He hardly feels a part of this world right now as he hums quietly in turn. 

“Perhaps.” He muses as his fingers toy with the shroud before he turns to look at the sin eater. Like his own face, their mask is a stony expression, their eyes concealed from his seeking gaze. If they were to not move and speak then they could easily be dismissed as one of the many statues adorning the hall. “How shall we proceed?” 

“Do you feel ready to proceed?” They posit as they gesture to your form. 

Malleus rises back to his feet but doesn’t remove his hand from your body. The pungent scent of flowers—used to disguise the sweetness of decay—wafts up with the abruptness of his motion. “The opportunity to refuse has long passed. I am aware that there is a feast to be had—that, they regaled me of this back when they were still alive.”

You had been enamoured by the concept of Briar Valley funerary rites throughout your time in life. He remembers thinking it to be grim when you would speak of them, and rather anxiety-inducing when you began to plan for your own. He always knew that your status as a human meant that you would join the stars long before he did—he had simply not wanted to think about it, though. In the end, your efforts to establish your own postmortem care had saved him a great deal of distress these past few days.

Your ability to think far ahead had been one of the many aspects he had loved about you. 

“Indeed, and I am delighted to see one is set for me.” The sin eater drifts off of the steps of the platform towards the far side of the room, where a table lay with an array of foods on it. Wine, dates, meats, and a variety of other luxuries decorate pristine plates and spotless cutlery. He had spared no expenses in the lavishness of your memoriam. “Sometimes I have served people who are still cooking the final meal by the time I arrive. But then again, I would expect a prince to have ample amounts of resources available to get things done.” 

“I give nothing but the finest when it comes to them.” Malleus retorts sharply as he goes to sit in the chair on the other side of the table. Before he can properly settle, the sin eater raises a hand and shakes their head. 

“Turn the chair around if you please. You are not meant to see my face when I eat—that honour is for the deceased, and the deceased alone.” 

Malleus pauses, his hand resting on the back of the chair before he obliges and twists it around to face the wall. He then sits down and crosses his legs patiently. Despite the fact that he knows the sin eater to be unarmed, he still feels a prickle of paranoia creep up his spine. Old habits die hard when one has been hunted for so many years. 

Eventually he hears the sound of the sin eater sitting down in their respective seat, followed by something heavy hitting the table. The sin eater clears their throat, and the sound is far clearer now than before. Their mask has been removed—which means the rite has officially begun. Malleus inhales and readies himself for what he recalls the next few steps to be. 

“Tell me about them. Call them to the table where we feast.” There’s a brief pause then before a fork scrapes against porcelain plates. Malleus’ eyes flutter shut as he gives a low sigh. 

“Mira calirh.” The affectionate term flows from his tongue easily as he touches upon memories long passed. How can he summarize you in a simple conversation? You had been a person of many complexities—of devotion, of will, of love as boundless as the sea. To boil all that you were down into a mere few lines felt sacrilegious in his heart. 

“Tell me of your first.” The sin eater prompts, and so he does. 

“I met them outside of their dorm. I thought the place was abandoned, but suddenly they were there before me, sleep-dazed and curious. I remember thinking how calm they were when facing me directly—only to find out they hadn’t a single clue about who I was.” Malleus’ lips curl into a faint grin as he pictures the moment so clearly. He can see you in your youth, eyes glassy with sleep and hair slightly dishevelled. You had not registered in his mind as someone of importance quite yet. 

Oh, how such a thing would change. 

“Tell me more.” The sin eater urges. He can hear the wine glass lifting and being set back down on the table. Malleus’ hands clasp tight as he feels his fingers begin to grow numb. In his peripheral vision, he thinks he sees movement from the pedestal. He resists the impulse to look its way as he considers his next words. 

“It made me feel… alive. For a moment. They would accompany me, speak with me. It was shortly after my overblot that I began to consider them as a friend—although I suspect we never were just that. It was two summers later that I began to consider them something more.” 

Malleus pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts. He remembers that summer—it had been warmer than usual in the Valley, and you had come to visit for a week. He recalls the smell of sunscreen and the sight of you with your hat on your head as you sat in a field of eternal green. The land was lush and abundant with life, but it had been you that had drawn his gaze the strongest. 

The sin eater pushes a plate away before grabbing another. It drags across the wooden table with a bitter screech. “Is that so?” 

“Quite. They stayed with me for a week, and I wished every night that the next day would never come, only so that I could hold onto them for just a bit longer. I kissed their cheek before they departed through the mirror back to NRC—I wanted to kiss their lips, but I panicked and missed.” He can’t help but laugh at that. His palms had been sweating and his mind had been in a panic when he clumsily pressed his lips to your cheek in a kiss of farewell. “Foolish I was. Fortunately, it didn’t turn them away from me. The next time we met, they made sure my aim was true.” 

“Young love has a habit of sending our hearts aflutter, no?” The sin eater muses as more scraping sounds out. “Tell me when you loved them.”

When? Malleus’ brow furrows as he considers the question. When did he not, really? 

“Every day. Every hour. Every minute. I think once they became mine there was not a moment I did not love them, even when we had our disagreements, or the obligations of my role drew me abroad. I loved them in the day, I loved them in the night. And in the sparse moments between, I loved them even more.” Malleus feels his jaw clench slightly. “We could not be married, and so I made sure they knew my devotion.”

“You could not marry because they were not fae. I remember that being a point of contention in the papers.” 

The sin eater must be a fae themself, then, if they can recall the tabloids from that time so easily while looking as young as they appeared. Malleus bristles at their comment. 

“Yes, that was a point of great contention, and one I had to swallow despite working to change the laws. Even my grandmother agreed that such outdated beliefs had no business in and amongst our courtiers.” 

He had fought viciously against nobility for the opportunity to keep you by his side. Eventually it had ended in a standoff, with the courtiers begrudgingly agreeing to permit you to live in Black Scale, so long as you never officially became his consort. Your body hasn’t even been cold for a day, and he’s already heard rumours from Scops that the Senate is hunting for a suitable replacement. 

The knowledge tastes like bitter fruit on his tongue.

He thinks he sees the flutter of white fabric moving at the pedestal again. His brow furrows as he rationalizes it away as a trick of the odd lighting in the hall. Still, the cold breeze that follows makes him shift in his seat uncomfortably.

“Tell me how you loved them.” The sin eater diverts his thoughts and the conversation once more as something heavy scrapes across the table. It may be the plate of quail he saw—or the pig's head. “What did you do to always let them know?” 

“Everything. Anything they wanted I would give to them. If they had asked me to move the mountains we rest on, I would do so. If they asked me to pluck the sun from the sky and fasten it into a brooch for them, I would make sure it was held by the finest of metals. If they wished for the rains to fall and the earth to turn green, then I would drag the clouds from across the world to where they stood.” Malleus shivers again as he feels an ache in his chest. It’s been there for days now. “Magic bends to my whims, but I bent to theirs.” 

“But you couldn’t give them time.” There’s a licking sound and a low hum of satisfaction from the sin eater. “Time will eat everyone in the end—much like how I feast on their memories now. You could give them every precious gem and flower in the world, but you could not give them a second more than what they were meant to have.” 

“If I could have, then I would.” He snarls back, his head turning slightly to glare at the blurred image of the sin eater. “I would have stolen the seconds from anything and everything and given it to them instead. The gods know they would have benefited from it. They had plans, ideas, to improve this nation and now? Now they’re already beginning to decay.” 

“As things do.” The sin eater tosses a bone onto a plate as Malleus looks back to the wall. He feels something cold brush against him again, and then the scraping of a chair to his right. His shoulders tense at the sound and he wonders if the sin eater has changed places. 

Until they speak. 

“How very kind of you to finally join us.” 

The comment is simple and one that draws confusion in Malleus until it finally clicks in place and his entire body plunges into freezing water. The world spins to a stop as he hears a whispering voice by his ear, its words indiscernible. Malleus’ eyes widen and dilate as any words he had to say stutter to a stop from his lips, drawn shut by a cold touch brushing up his arm—much like how his touch had brushed along yours moments ago. 

“One last bite, then.” The sin eater interjects once more as they push another plate away. “Tell me how you will keep them alive. The body may be rotting, but the soul does still linger. Within this hall, within this palace, within the memories stored in your mind. How will you honour that?” 

The words become clearer now. Your voice is soft as your breath brushes against the skin behind his ear, making him shiver as a small, painful sound escapes him. The scent of you lingers just beneath that of the roses your body was bathed in before being wrapped for your cremation. He can feel the brush of the shroud against him as phantom fingers touch his back. 

He wants to turn to see you as he once knew—but something tells him that doing so will merely send you away faster. 

“Their legacy.” He offers slowly, eyes fluttering shut again as he loses himself in your touch. “Their memory carries on through years upon generations of work. They brought life back to Briar Valley’s beliefs. They reshaped this old, rotting home—reshaped me—into something better. I may have portraits of them, and statues, and items that they loved dear stored in my rooms—but I think the only thing they would wish for me to do is continue the work they had started.” 

A sensation floods him then like that brought on by a lover’s kiss. It curls around his wounded heart and floods itself through his veins, warming his body in a way that it hasn’t been able to for days. Another pained sound leaves him, but it is not drawn out because of any agony. 

Then, as quickly as it arrived, the sensations are all gone. Your scent disappears, your touch disappears, and Malleus Draconia is left once more to sit in a stiff wooden chair in a large, desolate hall, with a body and a sin eater as his company. He wants to grasp for you and hold you in place like he did so dearly with your body—but the voice screams at him again that this is not the way it plays out. 

The sin eater sets the cutlery down before drawing their mask over their face. They push the chair back to stand, and only when they’re on their feet again does Malleus turn to them. He can feel wetness on his cheeks as he stares at their slender, frail form. He had managed to keep himself from crying so far—but now it’s become a battle he can no longer wage.

“What a delectable meal.” The sin eater sighs as they brush down their suit before stepping away from the table. They pause as they face the prince before bending at the waist in a low bow. The black pits that represent their eyes do not stray from his face as they do so. “They rest—as you should, too. I know you have at least another day of the wake to endure, so try to recover as much energy as you can. They would not want you to suffer on their behalf.”

Malleus doesn’t reply as his gaze drifts to your shrouded form on the pedestal. His love, his partner, his calirh. When the sin eater is already halfway to the door, he clears his throat, causing them to pause and look his way. Malleus stares at their masked face with an expression of neutrality once more. 

“... thank you.” He offers softly. The sin eater tilts their head, bows, and steps out of the silent hall.

[quietwingsinthesky]

do you think fourteen has a breakdown one day about just how much time with donna he lost. it was that easy, the whole time, for the metacrisis issue to be resolved, and instead of him ever figuring that out, he lost years and years of a life he could have had with her. he stood on the outskirts of her wedding. he wasn’t there when she was pregnant with rose and wasn’t there when she had her. he wasn’t there for a thousand little moments where he could have made her laugh. every time she looked for him without remembering who she was looking for could have been a time he was standing next to her. and he’s never going to get that back. time machine at his fingertips and yet somehow the one thing he never has enough of is time.

[wu-does-art]

so many times in fics ive seen people describe mike giving will awestruck eyes while he's just laughing about something, and i think thats really neat!

[butchsoltozer]

Which was more culturally significant? The Renaissance or season one, ninth episode of The Terror, "The C, The C, The Open C"

[hitmeupaep]

there actually everything to me

[linkedin-offficial]

a vicious game ;

this calling to push forward

yet expected to remain

⠀

[gifti3]

So i headcanon that demons (maybe angels too) have more than 1 heart…

Imagine that one day your demon darling invite you to dinner and ofc you agree! So you’re talking with them waiting for ur meal then it arrives. On the plate it’s a cooked DEMON heart and it’s not just any demon heart it’s your demon’s heart. Them smiling and said “do you like it?”

Apparently, demon do that to express love to their mates and it’s also one of the most imtimate ways (in demon’s sense) to show love.

I need more contents of the boys actually being demon 😔

i fuck with this, not gonna lie

the monsterfucker in me is always intrigued by the differences in how a nonhuman would express their love lmao of course most people would be surprised if their demon lover presented them with their second heart but after initial shock and them explaining if you think about it….you cant help but be (strangely?) touched like wow this person really likes me huh (///∇///) so we r pretty much soulmates! presenting one of ur hearts is a pretty big deal just from a logical standpoint, cause u forever nerfed urself for someone

now actually eating the heart is a whole nother question lmaoo

yea you know demons sometimes like to eat each other (and humans sometimes) but humans dont really do that as a casual activity and it usually gets you ostracized lol

u cant help but feel a little bad not eating it though…they cooked their whole second heart, they had it removed from their body which probably wasnt a painless thing to do but for your demon its mainly a way for them to show their devotion more than anything ,,,tho i know some of those brothers were actually expecting you to eat it lol it would be very funny if you both were sitting there after you were like aww thats so sweet and then he was like….well r u gonna eat it? :]

asmo and mammon come to mind first honestly LMAO

asmo is “kind of” intense when it comes to love and the mammon is a tsundere--"well...are you gonna eat it or what?"（//︶^︶）typa deal--so thats why i say that

and then maybe beel and belphie

beel cause i feel like it might go over his head at first (especially since this involves food) but then he'll remember like oh right humans dont eat that my bad

belphie i just think is hopeful you know...if that makes sense, so hes not surprised if you dont wanna eat it but maybe a bit huffy about it

i think satan and lucifer are too smart and like “normal” to actually expect a human to do that

while levi is... levi

hed probably get self conscious and be like well yea of course they wouldnt wanna eat my heart...

and then u gotta really reassure him its not him its you :d

[heartsforhavik]

Yandere Liu Kang? 👀👀👀

yandere liu kang x reader hcs

warnings: toxic relationship, controlling liu kang, yk regular yandere tendencies

summary: hcs of yandere liu kang x (gender neutral) reader

a/n: i just ate like 7 tacos anyways here’s a story about a god that is obsessed with you bc we all secretly want that!! (hi its me from the future this took so long for me to write anyways i just ate 12 chicken nuggets and i was holding in a shit while i was writing this anyways please enjoy guys love you all. havik is next :333)

when liu kang created the new timeline, he was bent on making sure everyone had the chance to live a life of peace. he wanted everyone to be in control of their lives.

but when it came to you, liu kang had a twisted desire to completely craft your life so you two can be together. however, he resisted the urge, and he decided to let you be in control of your own life.

but he didn't expect for you to naturally gravitate towards him. he felt so... familiar to you. as if you knew each other in another life.

liu kang was so grateful that you naturally found each other again. and now, he was determined to make sure nothing would happen to you.

now that you two are together, he treats you as if you're glass. he barely lets you leave your house without him helping you. but can you blame him? he's a demi-god and you are just a vulnerable mortal. he just doesn't want you getting hurt!

"liu kang, please, let me leave. i just want to walk around. i'm not going to get hurt!" you begged.

"i cannot risk you losing your life, my darling. you'll understand one day." liu kang told you.

liu kang may be extremely controlling, but it's because he holds you very dear to his heart. he doesn't want anything bad happening to you, so he safeguards you very carefully. he is afraid of losing you more than anything.

you are his darling. you are the love of his life. can you really blame him for wanting to keep you forever? hold you in his arms til' death do you part?

he doesn't mind when you talk to others, however. he doesn't trust you to protect yourself, but he trusts you to stay loyal to him. he isn't that possessive. but he does always have to know every single person you are acquainted with. he just wants to make sure they're good people, that's all! he just doesn't want you to accidentally be friends with bad people.

however, liu kang is extremely busy as earthrealm's protecter. he doesn't get to keep an eye on you all the time, unfortunately. so he keeps you locked up in your shared living space! fun, right?

but he knows how bored you can get in there, so he knows to get whatever furniture you want inside your home. anything you show even a little bit of interest in, ends up in your home a few minutes later. you're very spoiled in other aspects other than furniture, however.

for example, on the rare occasion that liu kang isn't too busy, he does whatever you ask him. make you tea? he's on it. cuddle and watch a movie? he's got the blankets and snacks ready. need a shoulder to cry on? he's there, and he'll give you advice on how to solve the problem.

liu kang is very thoughtful, and he knows exactly how to take care of you. but unfortunately, his fear of losing you someday is too strong, that he doesn't know how to love you without a voice in the back of his head always reminding him that your lifespan is much shorter than his. he knows you won't be with him someday. but he likes to pretend that fact isn't true.

for now, he'll stay hopeful that nothing will come between your unconditional love. your loss someday will leave him crestfallen, and you will stay within his heart forevermore. so for now, let him love you with his whole heart. let him kiss you every morning. let him enjoy your company every afternoon. let him embrace you every night. he'll go mad if anything were to happen to you, his sweet beloved.

[meadow-moth]

Sighs dramatically

Monty the crow that you are.....