#She understands that mortals are fragile little things

[amabela-14]

I'm mentally ill so have some lyrics

One for Julios

And one for Desna!

[cybertronian-reader-imagines]

How about someone who was recently turned into a Cybertronian and Team Prime tended to and comforted them? They have a lot of adjusting to do! 👀

TW: A bit of implied disassociation because, holy shit, suddenly you're a giant metal robot and that's kinda hard to wrap your newly non-organic brain around.

((Knock Out is here because there is not enough Autobot!Knock Out and I love him.))

Team Prime comforting Reader, who just got turned into a Cybertronian, would include...

Optimus reassures you from the first moment that you have a safe home with Team Prime, should you choose to stay with them. Of course, you do. He makes sure you have the time and space to adjust and be comfortable with your new body before jumping into anything. He's just there if you need him, which some days is more helpful than everyone's else's efforts to offer unsolicited advice right off the bat.

Bumblebee helps you adjust to having wheels by challenging you to races that double as training whenever possible. He is almost certainly going easy on you, but nobody ever tells you as much.

Bulkhead is the first to realize that maybe you just really need a damn hug right now, if only because he's not very good with words. He hugs you and reassured you that it will be okay, and you're amazed how warm and fuzzy you feel afterwards, even though you're fairly sure your new body doesn't actually feel such minute temperature changes.

Ratchet tries to be "comforting" by explaining how your new body works... in detail that goes way, WAY over your head. But eventually, you get him talking about Cybertron's history and culture, and realize that your two species aren't all that different after all, which helps more than an anatomy lesson ever could.

Smokescreen is quick to remind you that you don't have to go back to your boring human school/job/house/whatever. Depending on how much you liked/disliked your old life, this is either incredibly helpful or incredibly irritating. If you get upset with him though, he's quick to apologize, and it's hard not to be comforted by that well-meaning smile and a servo patting your shoulder.

Arcee might somehow be even more protective of you than she is of the humans - she knows what happens when bots overestimate how much they can handle, and she figures that's really easy to do when you go from being a tiny, fragile human to a giant robot. Sometimes it's hard to hear her remind you that you're still mortal, but she means well. "Okay Mom, I get it."

Wheeljack, like Bulkhead, isn't very good with words, but he's also not very good with affection. What he can do, however, is listen. He's there the first time you get frustrated with the rest of the Team - not because they truly did anything wrong, but because being cramped into a tiny base with people you've just met will irritate anyone - and he never breathes a word of what you vented to the others. The Wreckers had their spats too - he knows you'll all be cool at the end of the day.

Oh Primus help Ultra Magnus he doesn't have a comforting servo in his body, but at least he's honest about that. In fact, he's the best bot to go to when you're ready to have things less sugarcoated.

Knock Out doesn't understand what the fuss is about - why would anyone ever want to be a squishy, gross organic when they could be Cybertronian? Humans couldn't turn into cars, for one, and couldn't be polished. He gives you a fresh coat of paint and polish and tells you how much better you look now - it does help, in a way. Being able to pick out new paint makes you feel a little more like your new body is really your body.

But honestly? Your biggest comfort might just be Jack, Miko, and Raf, if only because they will remind you any time you so much as frown just how cool being a giant robot is. And then you remember, yeah, it is pretty cool, actually.

[midnightwind]

I'm making the almost kiss messier, for me (okay technically this is a few days after, but close enough) if you don't like the idea of Spite being into the Rookanis relationship, maybe don't read this lol

Summary: Spite tries to help. Things might be worse now. (just kissing and little touches, very pg, lot of yearning tho)

Word Count: 1705

She stood numbly before the pantry door, her heart in her throat. An air of guilt hung heavy around her shoulders. She had tried to give him space, busying herself by helping Taash and Bellara outside the Lighthouse. Things had felt so fragile and she was almost petrified that she had egged him into doing something he didn't want. But she wanted to visit Treviso and it felt wrong to go without at least inviting him. So she tentatively raised her hand and knocked gingerly on the door.

“Lucanis?”

There was a quiet shuffle from inside, but it was brief. She cracked the door slightly, unsure. If he was properly resting, she didn't want to ruin that. He was perched on the cot, slumped back against the wall. A cup was cradled in his lap, fingers slack. Had he fallen asleep halfway through a cup of coffee? She couldn't help the fond smile that tugged at her lips. He'd make a mess if he startled awake. She slipped silently inside, the door closing quietly behind her. With soft steps, she padded to his side and paused.

She had reasoned the intrusion with the idea of moving the cup then seeing herself out, but now that she was close she seemed to freeze. His shoulders rose with each breath, slow and peaceful. The heavy bags under his eyes were more obvious from this close and even though he was finally, finally sleeping, the exhaustion hung heavily from his features. She wanted to ghost feather touches along his jaw, card her fingers through his hair, press gentle kisses to his skin, anything to coax the stress from him. Her hand started to reach for his cheek, unbidden, before she caught herself. Grinding her teeth in frustration at the desire, she turned the motion to the cup. Her fingers had barely brushed the dish when his hand suddenly wrapped tightly around her wrist. He moved so quickly she almost screamed, her instinct to jump backwards halted only by his iron grip.

“Rook.” Her moniker curled from his mouth with Spite's low voice.

Her heart skipped a beat, wincing as the demon pulled her closer. “Hello Spite.” She smiled nervously. “Your grip hurts a little, could you… be gentler, maybe?”

Their eyes narrowed, mulling over the suggestion just long enough for her to worry he'd leave bruises on her skin. And then the pressure lightened, still firm, but measured now. “Rook is. Trespassing.”

“I…” Her mind raced to find an excuse before she sighed. “Yup. Sure am.”

A wide, toothy grin spread across their lips. “Good. We can talk.” And then he was scowling, an annoyed growl rumbling free. “Lucanis has been. Hiding. Avoiding. Won’t explain anything.”

She could feel heat rushing to her cheeks. “O-oh, I don't know if I…”

“Rook will explain.” 

It didn't sound like a request, but neither did it feel like a demand. It was more just… an expectation. An understanding that she was simply someone who would answer his questions. It left her a little dumbstruck. Explaining to the demon the intricacies of messy mortal relationships didn't thrill her, but it would be a bigger fight to try and escape. And maybe she'd get some answers herself.

“I can try.” She offered slowly. “Emotions are complicated.”

“Rook will know.” His words had more bite to them this time, grip squeezing. “You will. Stay close. Need to show.”

A thrill of alarm shot through her, heart hammering against her ribs. It felt like a bad idea. “Alright, but… let me find something to sit on. Being hunched like this is uncomfortable.” When he didn't move she offered up a wane smile. “I won't run. I promise.”

He let out a displeased hum, but let her go. She did snatch the cup as she stepped back, placing it on the little side table before she turned to assess the pantry. With only a little sigh, she dragged a crate to the cot and sat down primly. Spite closed the distance in an instant, face close and eyes bright. Nerves had set her hands to trembling, unease curling in her stomach, but she kept her face placid. 

“Why does Lucanis. Refuse himself?” He asked suddenly, voice low. When she only offered him baffled blinks he almost snarled, bringing their hand to caress her cheek. “He thinks. Of touching Rook. Like this.” Their thumb traced the line of her jaw, a little rougher than she would have expected, but it set her heart fluttering all the same. “Always wants to touch. So many different ways.” The wandering motion dragged their palm across her cheek, leaving a trail of warmth before their fingers tangled in her hair, holding her in place. “Wants to be close. Thinks of it. Constantly. So why does he not?”

She could feel the flush creeping up to her cheeks. “Only Lucanis can really answer that. I'll only have guesses.”

That did earn her a frustrated growl. Her heart was back in her throat at the noise and Spite was narrowing their eyes again. A dangerous grin slowly crawled across their face. Spite brought their free hand up to tug her hair free from the pins that held it in place. She didn't dare move as it cascaded to her shoulders, barely daring to breathe. He dragged their fingers through her hair, trapping a lock and pulling it to their lips.

“Like fresh blood. Fire dancing in the hearth. Warmth in the bones.” He purred. 

A strangled noise was all she could offer. Both hands cupped her face, trapping her gaze with his purple blaze. They were so, so close again. Her breath hitched.

“Storms at sea. Sun through glass. Sharp edge of knives.”

He bent their face to the crook of her neck, beard ghosting along her skin. She shivered. Their breath was warm and it felt like the ground disappeared from under her feet. The world reduced to the space between them, a sliver of distance barely maintained.

“Red berries and jasmine. Dizzyingly sweet. Smells of desire.”

That sent an electric spark through her veins, her pulse jumping. She shouldn't be hearing this. The urge to run screamed through her, but Spite had placed a hand on the side of her throat. Their fingers were tangled again in her hair, their wrist pressing down on her shoulder, and that single weight felt crushing. She couldn't move. Their free hand traced the pointed edge of her ear.

“Lucanis wants. So does Rook. Can smell it. Hear it. Feel it.” He brought their face back to hers, head tilted, lips hovering over hers. “Yet you both. Refuse. Why?”

She swallowed thickly, her voice hoarse and wavering. “Fear.”

That seemed to give him pause, though he didn't retreat an inch. “Of what?”

“Expectations.” The words fell unbidden, rasping whispers. “Disappointment. Pain. Misunderstanding. There's… so much that surrounds feelings like this.”

Their brow furrowed as he digested the idea. The moment felt like it stretched on forever under their caging grasp. And then she watched as he dismissed the thought. “Needless. Solution is simple.”

The distance disappeared before the alarm could settle in her bones. Spite's kiss was a hungry need, clumsy but forceful. He moved their other hand from her ear to her cheek, trapping her completely. It would have made her laugh if she had been able to form a thought. Part of her was screaming to run, of course, but the other part simply felt relief. A need finally answered, content to exist in the bruising kiss for eternity. She clawed at their chest, grabbing a fistful of their shirt, but wasn't able to bring herself to push them away or pull them closer. The sharp bite of teeth ripped a gasp from her, more surprise than anything, and Spite finally relented. When he leaned back, he had a wolfish grin as he licked blood from their lips.

“Simple.” He purred.

And then his presence vanished like smoke in the wind and she was left being held by a Lucanis who was struggling to take it all in. His eyes staggered over her loose hair, the deep flush to her skin, and her wide eyes. Her breaths were too fast, shoulders shivering. He could taste iron on his tongue and something else, something new. They stared at each other, both petrified, before the curse finally slipped from his lips, quiet and wondering.

“Mierda.”

It seemed to startle them both, his hands leaping away from her as if he had been burned. She stumbled backwards off the crate, pushing her bangs out of her eyes just to have something to do with her hands. Her gaze was focusing anywhere but on him, unwilling to see the look on his face. Would it be horror, or want? It felt like both would break her heart right now.

“Rook,” his voice was staggering, uncertain, “I-”

“Sorry,” she cut in sharply, a nervous laugh coloring her words. “I just- Spite had questions and I- Sorry.” She took a clumsy step towards the door. “I think… I need air.”

It was her turn to run, stumbling past the tables and chairs. She didn't stop until the dining room doors were closed firmly behind her. Pressing her back to them, she slid to a crouch. Head in hands, she took gulping, shivering breaths. There was a knot in her chest, a confusion of emotions. She had wanted that from Lucanis, but she liked it from Spite, too. That caused a worrying flip in her stomach. She did not want to pick that feeling apart right now. Shaking fingers dabbed at her lips, feeling the shallow cut the demon had made. The bastard left a reminder for her. It caused her to groan, pressing her palms against her eyes.

“Rook?”

Her head shot up in alarm at Bellara’s voice. The elf was paused at the bottom of the walkway to Neve’s room, a bundle of papers clutched to her chest. She took a tentative step forward as Rook shot to her feet.

“Are you okay? You look… Did Lucanis do-”

“No!” She cut in sharply, launching herself from the doors and almost running past the Jumper. “That was not Lucanis.”

[i-try-to-write-stuff]

Request

Clark x reader where he meets her (perhaps saves her), becomes infatuated with her, stalks her subtly and is subtly dark but not outright obvious.

This blog supports Palestine & Lebanon!!!

Zionists can fuck off.

There may be grammatical errors.

You were sitting in your office one moment and the next thing you know,  you were under the rubble of your office building, your body was crushed, you were pretty sure that your limb were broken in several places, and you could taste the blood in your mouth. The weight of destroyed chunks of cement was crushing your body making it harder and harder for you to breathe, you were losing consciousness, and you reluctantly embraced the comforting blanket of death.

---

Kal-El was deserately trying to save people around him who were engulfed in the rubble of the building. He could hear several heartbeats simultaneously most them were strong enough to survive a few seconds under the rubble as he rescued people in critical conditions, but one heartbeat was slowing down, that sound was coming from the other side of the giant pile of rubble. Clark dove in head first to save the poor soul on the brink of death. He carried you out of the destruction safely in his arms. In the rush he did not hear your waning hearbeats. Maybe it was a good thing that you were rescued by a God who did not follow the laws of nature and brought you back to life with little effort. 

When you opened your eyes after being revived, you saw a hazy silhouette of something blue and red. You were covered in debris and your nose and throat were filled with crushed cement and sand. You began retching as soon as oxygen flooded your lungs. Superman flew to the nearest ambulance and deposited you in their hands. You didn't recall much of what happened or even your rescue by a God walking among mere mortals on this earth. All you remember was waking up in a hospital bed and your Mom, Dad and siblings bickering by your side. 

Doctors were marveling at the speed of your recovery despite multiple injuries and severe internal bleeding every doctor on the hospital floor was wondering how you survived but you rushed it away but to your parents, it was an act of God, not the God they were praying to but still an act of God. On the third day,  you were visited by a bespectacled journalist from Daily Planet, whatever that was.

You thought he looked astonished to see you but then you brushed off it as you seeing things that weren't there. Your doctor said you would experience something like that because of the trauma your body and brain went through. 

Clark was stunned to see you alive and thriving, he had done his best to heal you up but your life was still hanging on by a thread when he reluctantly left you with the paramedics. His curiosity was not letting him sleep at night. So, he took the initiative and scouted several hospitals using his journalist credentials. But seeing you alive and well, looking fragile like a doll being doted upon your family, he felt some warmth blooming in his chest. You looked precious and fragile like a dewdrop on a flower.

Clark wanted to interview/interrogate you alone but your older brother and sister refused to leave your side while your younger brother gave him a stink eye. He asked you some prodding questions but you were unable to answer any of that, you did not remember anything apart from some blue and red haze. Clark smiled, you remembered his silhouette even if you did not remember seeing him. Clark could feel the irritation radiating out your siblings, your brothers were itching to throw him out. He made himself scarce pretty quickly after that. While he was exiting the hospital, he cocentrated on voices coming from your room. 

"You can't stay here overnight", the nurse said.

"We don't want to leave her alone.", your sister replied.

"Ma'am, we understand but hospital policies are something that can not be changed for any patient" the nurse explained patiently.

"But, she almost died, what if she dies again?" your younger brother whined like a pre-teen. 

"She is not gonna die, she is healthy, and she will be here when you come tomorrow during visiting hours." 

"You guys need to go home and rest" you replied in raspy voice. 

"But.."

"No buts, I'm not gonna die overnight, I know I scared you all but you need to go home and rest. Also, take care of Mom and Dad,  I had to practically kick them out." you added.

"Go, I need some sleep, I can't rest without you three hovering over me like mother hen" 

They protested but your siblings left you alone  for the night.

The nurse gave you an injection for your pain and you were dead to the world.

Clark rushed home and had a quick shower before he headed out for the night. He entered your hospital room undetected, there you were sleeping blissfully, unaware of your saviour's eyes on you, scanning your body. He healed your body with his Kryptonian powers and he sat down on your bed. He did not know what came over him,  he caressed your cheek, he brushed off the strand of hair on your face which was irritating you in your sleep, you unknowingly snuggle into his warmth. Clark decided to stay with you at the  but his plans were interrupted by the night nurse making the rounds. He stayed as long as he could feeling a connection with you, something that wasn't common for him. He left you alone that night with a silent promise to return.    

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART ONE

i think you're past the point of saving.

together we might survive.

get me out of this damn thing.

we have no time for stragglers.

do you intend to die for a stranger?

i thought that damn thing was going to be my coffin.

you keep dangerous company.

we can watch each other's backs along the way.

enough of this chatter.

who put you in charge?

i'll trust my own judgement.

a miracle, given everything you've been through.

it'll all be for nothing if you don't find help soon.

you're alive. i'm alive. how is this possible?

seems like we're the lucky ones, judging by all the corpses strewn about.

anything's an improvement on where we just came from.

'we'? you want to stay together?

we need each other.

i can't think of better company.

i wanted to thank you again.

you should be furious, shouldn't you?

kill it yourself — you look capable enough.

i was hoping for a kind soul.

let's try to keep that lovely neck of yours in one piece.

no need for this to get messy.

i need her alive.

and to think i was ready to decorate the ground with your innards.

please, allow me to introduce myself.

of course it'll turn me into a monster.

you should travel with me.

our odds are better together.

i was ready to go this alone.

maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea.

you seem like a useful person to know.

let's hope any future acquaintances don't hold a blade to your throat by way of introduction.

no harm in a little mystery.

conversation shouldn't be made, it should be grown.

maybe i'd like to get to know you better.

i'm usually better at this.

couldn't have phrased it more repellently myself.

you don't happen to be a cleric, by any chance? a doctor, surgeon? uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?

it's not exactly a common affliction.

a parasite shared is a parasite halved.

you're both twice as tall as me but have half the bloody backbone.

no point getting killed.

second worm gets the cheese and all.

nobody's getting any damn cheese.

she obviously sees your kindness as weakness.

don't let her take advantage.

a simply 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss.

your friends abandoned you.

i've got plenty of friends who aren't soft.

let's just hope she reserves those impulses for any common foes.

what a curious way to awaken.

what is the worth of a single mortal's life?

something the matter?

you must have thoughts about our little stowaways.

thinking about it won't help.

i suppose we'd go our separate ways — not a slight on your company, of course.

no reason for us to not stay together if we get on well.

if we do survive, we'll have separate lives to return to.

let's just say it's a very person, very private acquaintance.

you're not the kind of company i'd keep willingly.

perhaps i'll return the favor at some point.

she's delightful, in a very 'look at me twice and i'll dismember you' kind of way.

i understand much beyond your comprehension.

you'd do well to observe more and question less.

and they didn't cut you from navel to neck?

i am still getting used to people like you.

that large, fleshy nose of yours looks like a mistake.

best to keep quiet, lest any drivel leak from your lips.

i do not intend to stay long in this place.

may your actions express the same mettle.

anomalies lead to surprises.

what hasn't happened may yet come to pass.

not a collaboration i'd have anticipated.

can't you tell me something real about you?

i have a great respect for privacy, especially my own.

i have a very disciplined mind.

those tricks won't work on me.

please don't try that again unless i invite you to.

we meet again, as predicted.

care to explain why you're helping me?

what kind of services can a skeleton offer?

a monster forms inside us, and you care to be idle?

i knew your kind to be fragile.

don't you know an exhausted warrior is an ineffective one?

it's a thickheaded notion in a complex circumstance.

what were you two talking about?

if that was any of your business, we'd have called you over.

your business is mine.

we're entwined.

if we're to survive, we need to trust each other.

you seem reliable.

we're overdue some good fortune.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

By Allison Pearson

23 March 2024

OH, NO. No. A sense that something was not right, that our wonderful Princess was perhaps in more trouble than we’d been told, was confirmed at 6pm on Friday with an unprecedented TV address that dealt a blow to the nation’s solar plexus.

Some will simply have been stunned by the news, hardly able to comprehend it (what, cancer twice in the Royal family within two months? But she’s so young).

Others will have been in tears, as I was, watching our Princess of Wales, parchment-pale, clearly fragile yet valiantly composing herself to record a message in that crystal-clear voice, reassuring us that, although it had been “an incredibly tough couple of months for our entire family,” she would be OK, given enough time, space and privacy.

One friend who heard it on the car radio pulled over to the side of the road and sobbed. “I am just so upset,” she texted.

Another confessed she was relieved that the Waleses hadn’t separated – one of the wilder rumours that had been flying around since the Princess of Wales was pictured in that photoshopped, too-smiley Mother’s Day picture without her wedding rings.

“For the backbone of Britain, we need those two to be together and happily married,” said my friend. So true.

William ’n’ Kate, Kate ’n’ William, a couple for almost the whole of their adult lives, one unimaginable without the other.

Our monarchy is assured as long as there is them (the Waleses will celebrate their thirteenth wedding anniversary on 29th April, six days after little Louis turns six).

Suddenly, with this announcement, we are reminded that they are only human too, vulnerable at times, and Britain is badly shaken.

As she finished her statement, the ramifications started to sink in. Prince William has to deal with a father and a wife with cancer at the same time.

There are haunting echoes of Diana, too, another beloved princess whose personal challenges played out so publicly.

Poor William must feel like there are snipers in the garden taking aim at his family.

You could tell the children were uppermost in her mind, just as they are for any parent who is told they have cancer.

George, Charlotte and Louis, she spoke their names aloud, her darlings. You know, I think they were the real reason she steeled herself to do it.

To sit there on that wooden bench with spring bursting out behind her. Daffodils on a grassy bank, trees in blossom – a cruelly lovely backdrop for such sad tidings.

How simply dressed she was in a matelot jumper and jeans, stripped of finery and clothed, instead, in a becoming humility, her beauty thrown into sharp relief by the strain on her face.

A 42-year-old who is uniquely privileged yet now confronts every woman’s frightening brush with mortality.

Her statement was carefully timed to coincide with the start of the school Easter holidays so the children could be safe at home and wouldn’t have to endure whispers in class about Mummy’s illness.

(Sparing them the agonies of embarrassment young William and Harry suffered at boarding school when Charles and Diana were getting divorced.)

It’s not easy to protect your children when their grandfather is the King and their father his heir.

The Prince and Princess of Wales have always been concerned to make things as normal, as Middleton, as possible, for their young family; this is their toughest test yet.

Was there more than a hint of rebuke in the Princess’s carefully measured words for a media that really has shown neither patience nor “understanding” since she disappeared from public view to have abdominal surgery?

She could be forgiven for being furious. (Believe me, many of us are furious on her behalf.)

“William and I have been doing everything we can to process and manage this privately for the sake of our young family,” she said pointedly.

“As you can imagine, this has taken time. It has taken me time to recover from major surgery in order to start my treatment.

But, most importantly, it has taken us time to explain everything to George, Charlotte and Louis in a way that is appropriate for them, and to reassure them that I am going to be OK.”

“Back off,” she was saying in the politest possible way, “leave me and my kids alone.”

Of course, she needed time to come to terms with the shattering blow of having a life-threatening illness and three children under 10. Every mother’s nightmare.

But time is one thing the vultures and conspiracy theorists were not prepared to give her.

In the vacuum Kensington Palace foolishly allowed to develop, the vilest rumours flourished.

Had she undergone cosmetic surgery? Wasn’t she just slacking? Why wasn’t William taking up more duties to relieve his sick father?

Had Catherine left William? Was it a lookalike pictured with William at a Windsor farm shop?

The gossip went global, causing universal hysteria.

Imagine feeling as sick and scared as the Princess must have done, yet being under pressure to show yourself in order to disprove the lies and appease the baying online mob. It’s barbaric.

I hope those who made such disgusting comments are burning with shame today now that we know the reason she hid away.

It wasn’t only ghouls with a conscience bypass who were trying to fill the gaps in the story.

Theories also came from people who adore the Royal family and were deeply worried for the absent Princess. We love and respect her so much.

Incredibly, in a poll earlier this month, the recuperating Princess still managed to emerge as the most popular royal, narrowly ahead of her husband.

Despite the slurry of accusations – not least the appalling claim in an early draft of a book by Omid Scobie (media snitch), that she was one of the two alleged “royal racists” who speculated on the baby’s likely skin colour – their figures are broadly unchanged since a previous poll in 2023.

Never Put a Foot Wrong is said so often it’s practically the definition of her.

Turns out there may be stresses and strains to appearing always in control, to aiming for perfection, that can eat away at a sensitive person not born to be royal.

Catherine says her job brings her joy; it must also have caused worry (such remorseless spotlight scrutiny).

We should reflect on that, I think. On what it’s reasonable to expect from one human being who expects so much of herself.

How the Princess came to win such a large place in British people’s hearts is better than any fairy tale.

Bullied at school, the quiet, sporty brunette was famous for her record-breaking high jump and tenacious character.

She had blossomed by the time she met William in their first term at St Andrew’s.

At 29, when they finally exchanged vows in Westminster Abbey, she was the first royal bride to have a university degree; the first to have lived with her husband before marriage; the first to be raised in a house that had a street number instead of a fancy name and a moat with swans.

As second in line to the throne, William was expected to pick his princess from a select group of well-bred young fillies.

Hot favourites included Davina Duckworth-Chad and one Isabella Amaryllis Charlotte Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe.

Enough hyphens to make plain Catherine Middleton of Bucklebury, Berkshire, feel a little inadequate, you might think.

Except that, when a friend at university told Catherine how lucky she was to be going out with Prince William, a smiling Catherine replied: “He’s lucky to have me.”

The years have proved her right, haven’t they?

The death of Diana left William a damaged, stubborn and angry young man, acutely aware he was a prisoner of fate and railing at the media who pursued his mother.

Catherine has calmed him, rebuilding trust while providing the regular family life he had never known.

She has grown brilliantly into the role and the Waleses are a formidable team, lighting up any event they enter.

Now, it is his turn to soothe and calm her, although he must be deeply worried.

“Having William by my side is a great source of comfort and reassurance too, as is the love, support and kindness that has been shown by so many of you. It means so much to us both,” she said.

The King was right to salute his daughter-in-law for her courage. Imagine what it takes to first tell your small children you have cancer and then tell the whole world.

She did it so naturally, so sweetly, with such great empathy for others with that cruel disease that no one could possibly guess what it cost her. But it cost her.

She has told George, Charlotte and Louis that Mummy is well, and getting better, but the only way she will make a full recovery is if she’s left alone as she completes her treatment.

Will the vultures listen? Will they give her the time she needs or go back pecking for more?

Millions of us are praying for the return to health of our wonderful Princess of Wales. She has all our support and love.

A Britain without her is unthinkable, unbearable. Take your time, Princess, take your time.

💙🌹💙

[youdonthavetocallmedarlinnn]

I want to address the fact that Robin Wood was cool for like 5 whole seconds, but then he conspires and tries to kill Spike (yes, I know Spike killed his mom, but they were literally mortal enemies). Instead of Spike dying, it seems Robin instead helps him move past some of his own mommy issues. Buffy then tells Robin straight up that Spike is her right-hand man, and if he tries to do his shitty revenge fantasy again, that Spike would kill him and that she would totally let it happen in pursuit of the picture at large and the fight against The First. Spike killing Robin's mom was a natural order moment in the Buffyverse. A slayer being killed by a vampire while another is called was literally how the system worked since the beginning with the first slayer.

Thhhhheeennn Robin's salty fucking ass proceeds to walk around Buffy's fucking house and tries to conspire with anyone that would hear his needless fucking bullshit. Now, it's not even about his mom anymore. It's about him and his fragile ego. The second he gets to jump on the "Buffy is a horrible leader" train and fuck the only other slayer in the world, he snatches that shit and runs like he earned it. Robin was a soft boy with mommy issues. He was even less valuable to Buffy as he was his own mother, and they both rejected him for Spike. This isn't revenge. It's a pissing contest in the least and dick comparison at its height. There's no honor in this plight. It was an obsession. It was empty from the beginning and a way for him to numb himself from the pain of not being good enough for his mother to stay. That's compulsive behavior, and the scheming and the willingness to throw Buffy under the bus along with her "friends" is proof.

Also, btw Spike sacrificed himself to empower the potential slayers and solidify the line of slayers to come. People wanna come for Spike and act like he's such a dick because he didn't apologize to Robin. He doesn't owe Robin a damn thing, least of all an apology. The person he is truly mad at and needs an apology from is gone. He's obviously suffering from complex grief and a shit load of resentment. I completely understand both of those experiences because I've suffered from them both, but that's not a legitimate excuse to impose his shit on other people. Spike killed his own mother and 2 slayers and so many other people throughout his vampire life. Using his soul and ultimately dying to secure the Slayer line absolves him.

Hate Spike or love him because that honestly doesn't matter, but don't act like Angel's tainted little, Wolfram & Hart soul would have gotten the job done. He had to go deep dark while going under cover. His soul was at best compromised. Spike's soul was in full work mode. He was the truest champion at that moment.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 5

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 5 Summary: After a fight with Lucien, Reader gets to know and bond with the others. Feyre gives her job and she is finally allowed to return to Velaris.

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Angst, accidently injury.

A/N: So my chapters are likely just going to be between 3k-4k words from now on. Which just means more chapters in the long run, lol. There's some slight Ruhn x Reader, if you squint. Mainly because I have no clue where the terms of endearment came from at the end. I may explore that further in a side story...

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 4

Feyre and Nyx spent two weeks at the Moonstone Palace with you and those from Midgard. With her there to oversee things, she had sent Lucien back to the Spring Court and Mortal lands to resume his emissary duties. And after your little spat with him, he was all too quick to leave.

“What the fuck Lucien?!” You didn’t give him a chance to breathe after shutting the door to your room that night. You watched as his full lips opened to protest, but you weren’t going to let him. The sting of a betrayal from his lack of confidence in you hurt too much. “First you tell people my personal matters without my permission, then scold me like a child!” The argument had been brewing in you all afternoon. The way he spoke to you, spoke about you, in front of the others had your blood boiling. Did he think that you were a child in need of being reprimanded for speaking out of turn? All you did was point out what that fucktard-

“(Y/N) it wasn’t-,” He followed you into the room.

“I understand informing the healers about my nightmares, but everyone else?” You skirted away from him. You were too pissed off to want to be near him right now. “They are strangers to me, Lu!” You continued to rant, not paying attention to his attempts to speak.

“I am aware of that, but-”

“Are you aware? I am a grown woman, and yet you treated me as if I were some fragile child,” You felt the tears sting your eyes, “Is that what I am to you? I’ll have you know I don’t need to be coddled.”

“Of course, not-” He reached out towards you.

“And I wasn’t threatening Bryce. I didn’t do anything wrong by pointing out the fact that Rhysand nearly killed me due to my lack of knowledge about her.” You began to pace along the side of the bed.

“No one is saying you did,” He took a few steps closer.

“Then why speak to me that way? As if what I said was not supposed to be mentioned,” You whirled towards him.

“(Y/N), can you please let me explain?” He grabbed your elbow in an effort to get you to stop your pacing. But neither your nightmares nor Bryce were the real issues that plagued your racing thoughts. The male before you had violated your trust in the one way that you feared the most. 

“You let him into my room Lucien!” You pulled out of his grasp, your voice cracking with the pained revelation. “The one person that I can’t feel safe around. You let him in! You let him see how weak he has made me! I don’t need others knowing…I don’t want others knowing…” You had just barely gotten used to the idea of Lucien seeing you in such a vulnerable state. The thought of others knowing how broken Azriel made you…

“You know what, I should just take care of myself from now on,” You weren’t even convinced by your own words as you quickly brushed away the tears before they had a chance to fall.  

“I am just trying to help,” He raised his hands in a form of surrender. “They need to see your pain.”  

“My pain?” Something in your chest twisted and cracked. “What do you know of my pain?” Hot rage filled tears broke free and streamed freely down your cheeks.

“(Y/N),” Lucien’s deep timbre was like a caress, one that was desperate to get you to understand. “Feyre and the others…They need to know the extent of what has been done to you.”

“My pain is not yours to exploit!” You didn’t want to understand. You wanted to be angry. Anger filled you with a fire that allowed you to hide the hurt and fear.

“Exploit?” He dared to look personally offended. “Do you…I don’t want to help you-” Your mind, a whirlwind of rage, had it been in a better state would have let him finish his sentence.

“Then don’t!” You wanted to take back the words as soon as they formed on your lips. Darkened feelings swirled and tunneled up from the recesses of a deepening crevice that you thought you had blocked access to years ago. It clouded everything and brought up old insecurities. Ones that you didn’t want to acknowledge were playing out in front you at this very moment. You had always hated feeling dependent upon others. Hated the feeling of being a burden, and you could clearly see that you were just that to Lucien. Of course, he didn’t want to be here. He had other more important duties than to babysit the broken human girl. He had friends, a family, and a mate. All of whom were much more important to him than you.

“I don’t need your pity,” You spat, your voice thick and rough with your own self-loathing, “I don’t need your help. I don’t need you!” But you did need him, and that terrified you.

“(Y/N),” His russet eye filled with regret. “I-I didn’t mean…”

“Yes, you did,” You whispered. Your jaw was tight as you tried to keep your lip from trembling.

“(Y/N)…” His voice was soft, and your heart cracked again.

“Don’t lie to me!” You sobbed, arms wrapping around your middle. The room was silent for the span of a heartbeat.

“Fine,” He spit back at you, losing his usual composure as he stormed towards the door, “You’ve clearly made up your mind on the intention of my actions. I’ll leave you to your misery as you wish.”

You had cried yourself to sleep that night. While you tried not to let his absence get to you, the next few nights spent alone were filled with terror. You had barely slept, even with the aid of the sleeping tonic that was provided with by the healers. The nightmares had only continued to rip you from slumber within minutes of drifting off. All the tonic did was paralyze you inside your body, while the shadows took the forms of monsters drenched in moonlight. The warmth and light that Lucien brought you was now gone. So, to avoid the nightmares you avoided sleep. And the best way to do that meant keeping yourself busy.

To you, keeping busy also meant making yourself useful. So, you went to see what assistance you could provide to those from Midgard. Which really just ended up being Ruhn as you wanted to give the mated couple their space. It took two days for him to say anything to you after that initial meeting. And while you wanted to ask him what his issue was, it appeared that it was a story he was not willing to speak on just yet.

Once you started talking, you got along surprisingly well with the male. He was easy to talk to, just as Lucien had been. The two of you shared a similar sense of humor, slightly sarcastic and just on the verge of being dark.  He was more open than Bryce was about life on Midgard, which you were able to confirm had similar technological advancements to your own world. Although, you had been disappointment to learn that their technology was powered by Firstlight and not electricity. Which to you, Firstlight just sounded like magic. Which left you to conclude there was no way to power your own cell phone once the battery was fully drained. The portable charger you had ran out of juice the night before after fully charging the smart device. Now, you had approximately 75% battery left. Still, you used some of the power it had left to share your musical tastes alongside Bryce and Ruhn. Nesta had been just as curious as to the music of your world, noting how there were similarities between all three of your respective worlds. Primarily in regards to the "classical" genres. Overall, you felt comfortable and at ease around Ruhn. Surprisingly, when you first saw the misty shadows that curled around him, you hadn’t recoiled from their touch when he demonstrated his ability to utilities them. There was a completely different feel to them compared to Azriel’s. You attributed that to a clear lack of sentience, which allowed them to feel warmer somehow. Despite the budding friendship, you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to share your vulnerabilities with Ruhn. You weren’t ready to make the same mistake of letting someone in too quickly as you had with Lucien. Not when it was clear they wouldn’t be sticking around long enough for it to even matter.

When those from Midgard were busy, you then assisted Feyre with Nyx. It started after he had a particularly difficult day with teething. The three of you had been eating lunch when the child continued to cry. You could tell the new mother was starting to become flustered as she bounced and shushed him. But nothing she did appeared to sooth the child. You had noticed the way he chewed on his balled-up fist and asked if you could try something. While she was hesitant, Feyre handed you the 11-month-old babe. You took a cloth napkin and dipped it in your water glass before asking the High Lady to slightly freeze the fabric. Once frozen, you wrapped it around your pinky finger and stuck it in the wailing child’s mouth, making sure to gently massage the back part of his gums. He quickly took over chewing on your finger and finally started to settle. Your make shift teething toy worked as well as you had hoped, but it was when you started to sing that had endeared you to the boy. Feyre had sat in awe at how quickly Nyx calmed and studied you with rapt attention. The soft melody floating on the wind and the warm timber of your voice entranced the child. That was all it took to win him over. At each subsequent meal, after you had finished eating, Nyx would stretch his arms out towards you. Which quickly lead to his wanting to be held by you every time he saw you. Your mealtime songs soon became bedtime lullabies. By the end of the first week there was no doubt that Nyx absolutely adored you, and you adored him in return. It was due to your fast and unique bond with the child that Feyre offered you the position of being a part-time nanny and offered you a room in their Town House in Velaris.

Which is where you found yourself now, tucked into a bedroom that reminded you more of the simplicity of your apartment rather than the opulence of the Moonstone Palace. Rhysand had not been too happy, but relented when his mate insisted. She had later explained that she had showed him her memories of you with Nyx and how important it would be for her to get back to her duties as High Lady, if even just on a part time basis.

You had just finished hanging up the last of your dresses when you heard Cassian’s booming voice echo up the staircase quickly followed by Nesta instructing him to keep his voice down lest he disturb you. Their voices were soon followed by Bryce and Hunt’s greeting towards Rhysand. You heard the door to the High Lord’s office shut and the hall was silent yet again. You decided that now was as good a time as any to get a glass of water and an apple from the kitchen. It wasn’t that you were avoiding-actually that was a lie. You were avoiding two individuals specifically. You had yet to speak with Rhysand since he had stopped your bleeding all those weeks ago. And you had not seen Azriel, despite the fact that he had seen you. You didn’t know what you would do, or how you would react if you saw the Shadowsinger. You had nearly gone into a full blown panic attack at the sight of Cassian, who had merely resembled Azriel at first glance. The only thing that had kept you from crashing down into that pit was Lucien, who was now back to residing in the Mortal lands on the opposite side of the small continent of which Prythian was located.

You descended the staircase as quietly as you could, fearful that someone would come out to investigate any noise. You doubted your stealth abilities though. It was likely that someone picked up your presence as the voices died down when you began your descent and picked back up when you made it to the landing near the foyer. Once in the kitchen it wasn’t difficult to find what you needed. You were grateful for the fact that the town house had running water from what appeared to be modern style plumbing. You filled a glass from the tap and drank about half in one large gulp. You filled it to the top again and grabbed an apple from the countertop before you made your way back up the stairs. This time you didn’t bother to hide your footsteps. Which oddly enough, seemed to have not been heard given the muffled cacophony of voices from inside the office. You paused just two steps below the doorframe when you heard your name.

“I can’t believe that you still feel threatened by her,” Nesta’s voice was muffled, but you could still hear the exasperated tone. “You are currently the only one that is.”

“Amren and Mor have yet to meet her,” Rhysand’s tenor sounded just as annoyed as Nesta. “I will pass my judgement once they do.” Judgement? You hadn’t even realized that you were on trial. Were you not going to be even granted the opportunity to speak on your own behalf? The nerve of this fucking asshole! But your ire quickly merged into fear. What decisions were there to be made? What sort of sentence awaited you? Would you lose your newfound freedom so quickly? Sent to a lifetime of imprisonment on that desolate inescapable island? Your grip tightened on the glass in your hand.

“You said that the gate we set up was sealed with blood magic,” Bryce spoke up. “That only those who’s blood is keyed in, or even shares a substantial amount of blood to one that is keyed in, can pass through.”

“If that’s the case, I think its obvious as to how she passed through,” Ruhn spoke up. “She’s related to someone in this room, except scary shadow dude there. And Hunt.” Blood rushed in your ears. There was no way, absolutely no fucking way you could be related to any one here. They were all a different species for fucks sake. You were a human from a different world, a different reality. Magic was not the same on Earth as it was on Midgard or whatever the fucking name this planet was called. And even if this was to be believed, that you were somehow related to those that originated on this planet…all it did was explain a portion of the ‘how’ you got here. The ‘why’ was still unknown, and honestly the ‘why’ was much more important.

“How would any of your bloodlines have gotten to her world?” Hunt asked. “Midgard has no records of anyone leaving the planet through the Rifts, with the exception of the armies from Hel. And from what Bryce and your people found under that Prison, the members of that court only traveled to Midgard.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Nesta spoke up. “I have a friend that works in our main library. She’s an assistant to a Priestess that had conducted some research on travel to different worlds. According to what she found, there was a second wave of Fae that went missing a whole generation later, but they were from the large continent to the east of Prythian.”

“Even so,” Azriel’s voice sent a chill down your spine. “Her blood should be too diluted to have triggered the blood seal. She’s mortal, not Fae.” His words were cold, but the truth.  

“What proof do you have of that?” Ruhn challenged. “Did your slicing and dicing of her skin reveal that tidbit of information?”

“Dude,” his sister spoke up, “Chill.” Azriel didn’t respond. You felt the air hum with electricity despite being on the other side of the door. Your breathing became shallow.

“How would anyone go about proving that?” Cassian asked.

“We can in Midgard,” Hunt spoke up. “DNA blood tests are used on Vanir and even those with mixed heritage prior to the Drop.”

“She’d have to go with us,” Ruhn stated. “Which is a huge no-go right now. We, unfortunately, need to lay low for a bit.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? We can’t waste time on figuring out who she is,” Bryce interjected. “We need to find a way to Hel. We need to stop the Asteri before they destroy Midgard and find their way back here. I vote that someone goes to talk to that guy at the lake.” Your stomach dropped, but you were grateful to Bryce. She was right in that you should be the least of their concerns given what you currently understood of their conversation.

“Figuring out who she is may lead us to those answers,” Rhys’ voice remained annoyed. “And no one is to make contact with Koschei until we have that information. For all we know-”

“Stop talking Rhys,” Azriel warned. The next thing you knew the door to the office was flung open and a pair of captivating hazel-green eyes met yours. The glass slipped from your hands and shattered on the stairs. The breath ripped from your lungs as your brain caught up to the fact that Azriel stood in front of you. The apple was next to fall, bouncing down the steps. Your body screamed for you to run, but you could only manage slow movements. Acting on the instinct to not make any sudden movements lest the predator in front of you strike. You backed away down the stairs, one hand glued to the railing and the other the wall.

“(Y/N),” the male before you called out and took a tentative step in your direction. The movement sent your fear into overdrive. Adrenaline rushed through you as you picked up the pace, not daring to take your eyes of the threat in front of you.

“(Y/N) wait,” Azriel called again. His mouth continued to move, but you couldn’t hear him. Your vision blurred and the edges darkened. The center of your chest burned and you couldn’t catch your breath. You dropped your weight into your heel, but it was met with air. The loss of balance causing you to tumble the rest of the way down the staircase. Pain tore at your ankle and raced up to your thigh. You hit the floor of the foyer hard, head cracking against the stone tiles. You felt hands on your arms, but you thrashed against them. You kicked and swung your arms, trying to create any distance you could between yourself and the male that tortured you. Your foot connected with something and you cried out from the searing pain that the impact caused. He was not going to take you back there. You were not going to be taken anywhere without a fight. You felt yourself screaming and you continued to fight off the hands that touched you.

“Hey hey hey,” A gentle deep voice finally reached your ears, “Sweetheart it’s me. It’s okay. It’s just me.” You used your feet to push against the ground, but you couldn’t get anywhere with the pain in your ankle.

“(Y/N), open your eyes,” the voice instructed, “Your ankle’s broken, baby. Stop. Stop kicking. I’ve got you.” You hadn’t even realized that your eyes had been closed. Everything had been a dark blur when you fell backwards. But you complied. You had expected it to be bright when you cracked your eyes open, but instead all you saw was blue. Ruhn sat on the ground next to you, his warm hand pressed against your cheek. You caught a glimpse of Nesta’s golden brown hair as she knelt on your other side. Your eyes met Ruhn’s again and you felt yourself break. Covering your face with both hands you sobbed. The fear, the pain, and the embarrassment that you were yet again crying was too much.

“A healer is on her way,” Nesta’s voice was as equally soft as Ruhn’s, “Let’s get her upstairs.” You winced as your two friends helped you to stand. Each of your arms was placed around one of their shoulders, Ruhn having to bend down slightly given the 4 to 5-inch height difference between you. His arm wrapped around your waist allowing him to take the brunt of your weight.

The trek upstairs wasn’t as painful as you anticipated. The two Fae helped you onto your bed, where you waited for the healer. Luckily you didn’t have to wait very long. The slightly older looking female worked quickly and efficiently in setting your ankle back in place before mending it with magic. Still it was wrapped up tightly to keep it in the ideal position while the bones slowly fused together.

Once she left you asked for some time by yourself claiming that you wanted to sleep. Which wasn’t a complete lie, you were exhausted. You carefully pulled the covers down and tucked your legs under them. The bed was already warm and despite the amount of information that you had taken in just minutes before, your mind drifted off to sleep.

Next: Chapter 6

Tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan

[quitealotofsodapop]

Nobody bays an eye at the fact that MK's mom is a very much male presenting person. They live in a world where shape-shifting is the norm, and there is literally a famous story about a kingdom with a river that can make anyone, no matter the gender, pregnant. Its not an impossible thing to imagine for them, especially since they suspect MK to be a demon at that point anyway, which means his mom is guaranteed to be one too. No, the biggest surprise in regards to Wukong's pregnancy comes more from who Wukong is rather than any sort of gender he presents as, but it's rather easily explained away. After all, there's no reason for Wukong to hide the fact that Stone Monkey pregnancies are often fatal and result in many complications, so as the stronger and more durable between himself and his mate as well as the one with mor most layers of immortality, it's simple logic that he'd be the one to bear their young.

At least, that's how Wukong describes it later. What he neglected to realize is that just because the specifics of Stone Monkey pregnancies have become somewhat common knowledge amongst the celestials, the mortals do not share in that knowledge and hus rather blase attitude in regards to potentially dying in childbirth does little to ease DBK, Pigsy, Tang, or Sandy's concern. PIF is a little more understanding of Wukong's position, having gone through similar complications with Redson's birth, and actually applauds his willingness and bravery in bringing more children into the world, even whilst almost losing his life to bring his eldest into the world.

prev post.

That and they don't want to assume anything in case MK's mom is a trans person. Wukong is fine with both Mama/Baba titles, and if he carried the kid it only makes sense to him to be "Mom" to them.

In a world of demons, trans people, shapeshifting, and rivers that make your pregnant, you just grow up knowing that sometimes a dude gets pregnant.

Regular Stone Monkey pregnancies aren't anymore fatal than say wild monkey statistics, but the Stone Egg method is super dangerous. Stone Monkeys basically donate so much of their life energy to the world around them that there's very little left over for themselves. The "Boulder" atop FFM is even described as spreading orchids and mushrooms into the earth around it.

PIF admires and envies Wukong a little for his success, despite the terror surrounding little Xiaotian's arrival. She wonders if DBK hadn't been imprisoned, if they could have had such luck.

Wukong very simply explains to the Noodle Gang that he's like the healthiest demon around, and his mate is slightly more fragile than him (literally born in the anaerobic enviroment of the moon = no immune system), so he takes over for baby-incubating. The gnag are super intrigued!

Tang: "So when did you decide to have MK?" Wukong, laughing: "Oh, that was a happy accident! A happy, kinda-scary, 14 year accident." Noodle Gang: (*all nod on understanding/awkwardness*) MK: "Yeah, thats why I grew up being told never to bury myself under a mountain." Noodle Gang: "...wut?" Tang:, JTTW brain activating: "Wait. Did you say 14 years!? As in during the Journey!?!"

Wukong pretty much pulls out corkboard of crayon drawings (like in "The Plan Man") to explain the process and how Macaque accidentally left Wukong "rock pregnant" under Five Finger Mountain - a collage crafted specifically back when MK had first asked about the "Birds and the Bees". The Noodle Shop Gang are horrified - and so is MK for having to re-live it.

Everyone comes away from that specifc lunchtime knowing a little too much about the reproductive habits of Stone Monkeys.

Hilariously I can imagine a situation like with the Eclipse Twins in the TMKATI au (both monkeys got el-pregante with either twin) happening here.

But with the current day. Remember how I pointed out that out of all the Nodelets, one shadow planet was missing? >:3

Once the LBD situation is dealt with at the end of S3;

Guanyin: (*gently grabs Macaque by the scruff of the neck*) Guanyin: "How long were you going to run around getting into danger without telling him [Wukong] you were expecting as well?!" Macaque, honestly confused: "Pardon???" Wukong: (*GASP!*) "Hypocrite!" Macaque: "In my defence, I didn't know that could happen."

MK barfs just *a little* at the announcement (MK: "I TOLD you they were being gross!").

Que the last Lunar Nodelet; Ziqi being made. This time via a very nervous Macaque.

Shadow monkey is on 24 hour lockdown pretty much to watch out for health complications, a reasonable punishment for his little disappearing act. Complications arise only because Mac was away from FFM for an appointment with Lao Tzu when a certain Scroll got found...

[oceanlipgloss]

LUNCHBOX

MEPHISTOPHELES.

+ no warnings.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

Nobles didn’t need lunchboxes. They didn’t share lunches on school benches.

Nobles indulged in fancy luncheons and had luxurious dinners. That was how he had always lived; not for decades and not for centuries, but for millennia. Yet, the next thing he knew, this pretty and horribly fragile creature had come along and spoiled the whole rhythm.

That did not merely mean his lunching habits, of course, or the traditional noble programme, or anything else like that—for the little butterfly had let her wings move a bit too fast, fly a little too far. She had let herself land on his velvet fingertip, twirl around in his brain, then sneak her way into his heart.

Do you understand what it was like for him?

She was messing with his mind and troubling his heart, spreading the nectar from part to part until the entire organ was contracting with his red admiration, and all her own.

He was a demon. Holy scripts of all kinds and in all languages told of how those like him are damned before their creation, and born damned still.

Goddamn it though, wasn’t she a demon too? She made disliking her hard, altered the rhythm of his heart; it pounded faster when she was there. Made him think about her so much, all the time, even when he had better things to do—more important things, like taking down a fallen angel, for instance.

Goodness...was this not an alarmingly strange phenomenon all around? That is why, for the first time in his seemingly endless life he actually and genuinely thought, ‘I am damned.’

How could he not? Was there even a sliver of probability to think otherwise?

After all, he was willingly seated next to a commoner on a school bench. So much like a silly school crush...

The cherry on top, though? The icing on the cake? The sugar rush to his bafflement? How he was heartily eating the weird stuff in her lunchbox. The flavours were very good.

Oh, dear.

Scratch that.

It was worse.

So much worse.

He was so, so, dangerously close to a human, a mortal woman whom he had not been very fond of—if at all—in the beginning, and for quite a long time. Their shoulders were touching. She was very warm. He could feel the mellow heat through the fabric of her uniform.

Were all humans this warm, or was it just her?

He would have to study that later.

For now...well.

It wasn’t just mere material proximity; it was not their bodies that were close only. The romantic tales and legends did not quite get it right, and many poets did not pen it properly.

How to put it...

You see, he could almost feel a quaint connection in their souls, as though mystic hands were tugging at the enchanted thread by which their spirits were tied. It was a thread impossible to see with the eye, but easy to feel in the heart.

And he had no way of truly knowing, but perhaps their hearts, too, were pulsating to the same song playing within them.

Unsettling as it were, the feeling and the sensations it brought remained quite nice.

Routine is a curious matter; it arranges days and nights, organises time itself—and yet, should they choose to, one can change it however they like.

Before this lunchbox ordeal, his hours had constantly resembled one another and looked nearly identical. They were too much alike.

He had followed a certain pattern, but now he had chosen to paint for himself a new excitement—an unprecedented event with an unexpected person—in that redundant schedule.

In truth, she was well aware that he did not hate her, so she was the one who had been incessant on spending this time with him. She was the one who had begun their little journey of sweet fortune.

She taught him new things. Sometimes she talked about profound matters. Sometimes she made meaningless small talk. Eventually, she made him think about how he would love to visit the twisted realm of humans with her.

With her, he realised that solitude disappears. Relations could be blessings. He was happier eating common simplicity packed into a plastic box more than he had ever been stabbing silverware into fine gourmet meals laid on exquisite china.

Never once had he imagined he would find spiritual pleasure in the company of this particular creature, this—truth be told—lovely lady. It appeared that fate had wished to prove him wrong in this subject, and so it was.

But when it had never before crossed his mind that he would one day come to enjoy her presence and bask in her warmth, how could he ever have predicted that he would long for that same warmth to be by his side?

Perhaps it was true that ignorance is bliss.

Who could know whether their soul will ever bind itself to someone or not?

Who could ever know the destined one that will rob them of their heart?

There is no need to do so.

Walking through time with an unknowing mind that cannot form any predictions and blind eyes that cannot make out a picture of the future could be pleasant.

What one cannot expect may very well turn out to be a great surprise, an absolute delight...or their sweetest demise.

+note: sort of word-vomited this one and wanted to put it up. [9.11.2024: did someone from NTT read this fic in reverse or smth 'cause glue ur eyeballs to the screenshot for a minute intimacy bar WHEN]

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 25 Perpetuity

(Spoilers for the end of Endwalker's Myths of the Realm)

Aeryn stood in Omphalos and watched the engine work. Its motions were hypnotic as it circled around itself, drawing in hopes and prayers, and dispersing that energy back into the world to aid humanity. A device of akasha and aether, elegant and lovely.

A familiar step sounded on the stone behind her, accompanied by the equally familiar pitter-patter of smaller feet, making her smile and hold out a hand to let the tiny opo-opo leap up and scramble up her arm to give her a friendly nuzzle.

“No treats, no matter how the little fellow begs,” Deryk said lightly. “He’s coming off a bout of upset stomach.”

“Poor baby,” Aeryn cooed, leaning her head against the creature, who chirred against her neck.

The wanderer stopped next to her, also looking up at the instrument of blessing. The collaborative work of ages, she was never sure he was aware of the slight smile and melancholic light in his eyes when he gazed upon it.

“So,” he said. “We meet here yet again. And again I ask: come to a conclusion yet?”

“No,” Aeryn replied, as shaking her head would dislodge the opo-opo, who was now playing with her hair. “When you first brought us here, and revealed the Twelve and their heavens, I’d hoped to find some answer. But it seemed more of the same. Divinity is just a construct of man, formed in desperation and empowered by prayer.”

Deryk nodded. “I can say there is a world of difference between what I was, and who I am now.”

“That’s a matter of power scale, which can be overcome.”

“In part, certainly,” he agreed. “But it’s more than that.” He looked aside, his gaze falling on the gate to the Heaven of Wind. “Sometimes the memories seem more like dreams, and too much for my fragile mortal mind. The time is incomprehensible—and that’s even before taking into account the man whose soul inspired Oschon’s existence.” He turned to Aeryn again. “Am I still not real, merely a construct?”

“Of course you’re real. And so was Oschon. Just born of humanity, like anyone else.”

“Hydaelyn created the Twelve,” he reminded her.

“From the energies of Her comrades. To perform roles and duties for which mankind worshiped them for, and in so doing, altered irrevocably.” She sighed. “And my feelings on Hydaelyn—on Venat—are likewise still complicated.”

“I understand that,” Deryk agreed. “I did not feel so before, but now? It’s a strange thing indeed. I’m not the man who aided in Hydaelyn’s creation; he is long dead, his aether given to form Hers, a fragment of his remnant soul used to create that which men called Oschon. Me, with an omnipresent view and ability to stride across this world we so loved as either the concept of wind, or in this form.” He gestured to his body. “I sometimes wonder if we took on avatars because some part of us yet remembered and yearned to be mortal again.”

“I’m certain I met Nymeia and Althyk’s original selves in Elpis,” Aeryn said, scratching under the opo-opo’s chin. “I helped with creations they were evaluating, and described the rite of flowers for the departed when some creatures were lost in an accident with others. There was familiarity in their divine personas, but they didn’t remember. Not really.”

“Yet they never lost sight of who they were to one another,” Deryk said, that sad smile on his face again. “They never struggled with it, unlike Menphina and myself.”

Aeryn raised a questioning brow.

“Of course I loved her—who didn’t?” he laughed. “In our first life, she was a brilliant young woman, and it was no wonder her divine self became who she was, and set to the tasks Hydaelyn chose. And we cared for one another, as we Twelve were family in our way. But was any romance our own, or determined by the prayers of man?” he shrugged. “Divinity is malleable.”

“That’s one of the things I struggle with,” Aeryn said. “Should it be, or shouldn’t gods be set, in order to form and order the world, and guide their creations and humanity? Shouldn’t they be...something beyond man? Not just in power, but in origin as well?”

“The more we discuss this, what it feels like you most resent is the loss of unknowing,” Deryk replied. “That you feel faith must include the question of origin.”

Aeryn mulled that over for a moment. “That would be part of taking it on faith, wouldn’t it? Of deciding to give trust based on a hope there’s something more to guide the way.” She looked up at the instrument of blessing again. “But I know so much of the origins of our world, of the divinities, and how and why they came to be. I know what can be manifested with enough aether, but warped by those requests.” The opo-opo chirred as her shoulders slumped.

“And you know too well what has been lost—in most cases, by your own hand.”

She winced at that. “On request.”

“Who else could be trusted? Not just in power, but on...faith.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“It goes both ways, you know,” he said mildly. “Even if I know your origins—born of man, with dragon’s blood running in your veins, raised outside this land where we held the most sway, but rising in it to become the one who could learn the truth, see it clearly, and grant us our greatest desire.” He gestured to the engine swirling above them. “And now we have laid down our burdens, while ensuring our duty is secured forevermore. Because we believed in you—as She did.”

Aeryn frowned. “That’s not the same as faith in divinity.”

“Isn’t it?”

[ima-ghost-art]

Immortal Leo HC

TW: Suicide attempts & abuse

Okay so what if Hera succeeded in burning away Leo's mortality when he was a baby?? What if now, the reason he survived so long on the streets from such a young age, how multiple gods have had intense reactions to him, how he can go so long under such intense stress and no sleep and yet still manage to keep the ship running, why Gaia had always seen him as her biggest threat,,, was all because Leo was essentially immortal??

Now he wasnt a God, not yet at least. When it gets revealed by Hera after he returns from saving Calypso, she tells him, he could gain godly status if he chose a domain. The other gods couldnt challenge his claim, he was already an immortal demigod who had literally saved the world from destruction, and had the favour of multiple gods plus two camps of demigods.

All he had to do was claim his divinity and it was his.

Now.. Leo had known he couldnt die since he was a kid. Not long after the death of his mother, he had lived through things that should have killed him more times he could count, and it only fuelled his aunts hatred of him and the wishing he had died with his mom even more.

He could go weeks without eating, sleeping while he was on the streets, been beaten over and over again, in ways he knows no other kid would have been able to survive, and even attempted his own life on numerous occasions, each in a different way from the last, just trying so badly for it to end.

But instead he was seen as a "miracle" or more realistically an "exception" a "fluke" an "oddity" a "freek of human nature"

Leo still felt all the pain though, that last thin thread tying him to the fragile mortal body he was born with that still pumped with red blood. No one questioned why it shimmered with flecks of gold when he bled, no one ever looked at him long enough to care.

Being a demigod was enough to help Leo start to understand this part of himself, but just like his fire this was something else to set him apart from the others.

A little too much power

Not quite enough mortal

After his return from Ogygia, Heras announcement was only confirmed more by how Leo's blood now ran fully gold, the aura around himself stronger now, still not a God sure, but definitely no mortal demigod either.

Although his attempts too die once again, battling Gaia, (the physicians cure safely tucked away in Hazels coat pocket instead of on Festus with him) He instead finished burning away his mortal flesh, leaving everything else behind.

Unlike Percy did all those years ago, Leo never had a choice.

The Campers all saw him different now, no longer like them, the Gods now actually held him in some form of respect, even Zeus didnt make much of an argument about it.

He was expected to become a God..

Some of the campers even started giving him offerings for saving the camp. There was talks about building him a shrine, what domain would he now be the symbol of? would festus be his sacred companion?? Could they worship there friend who wasnt even dead but was he even living???

Leo never wanted to be immortal, just for once he wished to be like everyone else...

[daisyychainssj]

Something about foolish and bad being two immortal beings who’ve had skewed morals since the beginning of their time on the island. One being able to hide it pretty well and the other always open about the fact that he sees actions and consequences differently. Everyone knows foolish is open to playing multiple sides and doesn’t really grasp the repercussions of certain things like mortals do (he didn’t really understand why people reacted the way they did to him arresting Pac e Mike) he’s always been pretty open about the fact that the only people he cares about being hurt, either directly or indirectly, by what he does is Leo and Vegetta. Then you have bad who is pretty much universally trusted on the island, it’s bbh like yeah sure he pulls silly pranks and stuff but he’d never really hurt them, right? BBH and Foolish are so similar in so many ways. At the end of the day the only people that bad has trusted without a shadow of a doubt is dapper and Pomme, he would die for his kids in a heartbeat. He also does not care if others have to die for them either and I don’t think anyone but Foolish really knows or understands that about him. Pomme and Dapper were in a certain sense, bad’s moral compass. He wouldn’t allow himself or others to do certain things because it could hurt them. Mines? Absolutely not, are you crazy that could kill an egg? The eggs are gone? Bad is blowing everyone and everything up. Leaving boxes with invisible and strong magmas that can pretty much two shot you, what if one of the eggs was to open them? No way, he could never? No eggs around? Everyone gets a killer magma cube whilst he laughs at seeing people downed by them repeatedly. Here’s the thing, bad and foolish obviously love and care for people on the island but I just don’t think they truly grasp it the way everyone else does, the only time they’ve come close is when they’ve loved something that was fragile. They’re kids. It gave them a taste of mortality and so they had to change. Now that they’ve had that love and lost it? I truly don’t think they give a fuck about the consequences of their actions anymore. Foolish literally asked bad last night “Does your family trump all other families?” And after bad told foolish that he was in his family (because they can understand eachother in a way no one else can and I think that brings a lot of comfort) he replied “to answer your question by the way, yeah I think it does” like bad is just openly admitting he will do ANYTHING to get dapper and Pomme back and it doesn’t matter to him what it costs and who gets in the way. I really think that if this does lead to BBH capturing Fred for info no matter how devastated tubbo is BBH Will. Not. Care. Fred is just another obstacle he has to get through to get his family back. And foolish understands that and is encouraging him to do so. Foolish understand because that’s the exact way he operates too. Tina said she would’ve died for Leo and Foolish immediate reaction was to be like “just to be clear I would take you up on that offer and trade your life for hers” and just the other day when Bad was being his usual self and saying he wanted to live at Foolish’s place and the moment he started messing with Leo’s room foolish lost his mind, wanted to arrest bad for even daring to touch such a sacred place and when asked about what the order would think he said if they didn’t understand how serious it was that bad tried to mess with Leo’s room that he Did. Not. Give. A. Fuck. I just think they’re both very willing to be ruthless no matter the consequence and the only person who really understands that is each other.

Q!LANDUO YOU’RE SO FASCINATING TO ME I WANT TO PUT YOU BOTH IN LITTLE TEST TUBES AND STUDY YOU

[angies-writing-blog]

A Devil's Grief (Raphael x Tav)

Ao3 Link

Carelessness on Raphael's part had cost him the precious little mouse her life.

Rushing towards the open attack of the enemy army with an extraordinary spirit of sacrifice.

Giving her companions enough time to build up their defences

... but also to save Raphael from certain destruction.

No quick and peaceful death was granted for her.

Repentance for her sin still had to be done by the little mouse.

According to the gods, this consisted of not even falling into his arms,

pierced by enemy weapons, barely able to make a move and succumbing to elemental forces.

Pulling her into his arms, all soaked in blood, she was incapable of words

...because of the arrow stuck in her throat.

Neither poisoned nor enchanted, it had hit with critical success.

Pale around the nose, his little mouse had always been, but the increasingly grey tone was alarming.

And the cyanotic glow around her lips revealed that her body was no longer able to maintain vital functions.

Shallow and infrequent breaths emerged, struggling for air at times.

Dilated pupils stared at him without focussing on anything in particular.

Raphael had only ever seen the glow of the universe in her eyes, never intimidation or fear.

In denial, Raphael raised his voice, assuring her that everything would be all right.

But the expression she met him with revealed that she was enveloped in a silence that, like a sudden and impenetrable fog, stole the outline of all words.

Turning all her attention to his lips, she focussed on the shapes, not understanding a whisper.

Speaking softly, Raphael returned her gaze to his.

Uttering three words clearly, which she understood in time before the pulsating world, spinning in circles, picked up speed and darkness finally engulfed her.

Preventing the little mouse from acknowledging all his feelings.

Standing still, all of a sudden, both her companions, who had fallen into a state of shock, and their outnumbered enemies.

No longer possessed Raphael's voice a mortal sound, even the stars trembled at the infernal cry.

Never before had even one soul seen tears forming in the devil's eyes, pooling like in front of a dam whose wall showed an unimaginable vulnerability and finally broke when it was least expected.

During this war of hells, fought on earthly ground.

Slowly, the door to Raphael's inner world opened.

Knowing all the tears in the world would not bring back her life.

Many things now made sense for his little mouse's companions.

Love was what the devil felt for this small and fragile human child.

Nobody had noticed it all this time;

neither had anyone recognised the little crushes they had on each other nor noticed the obvious desire for closeness.

Crumbling cracks of restraint formed in the salty spray along his cheeks.

And the otherwise imperturbable façade was pervaded by an expression of unease. 

For the first time, the dark clouds inside Raphael gained the upper hand. Roaring tempest unstoppable.

Engulfed by invisible flames, his prominent facial features were distorted into something demonic

...something never seen before.

Leathery, shimmering wings erupted from his back, their span expanding, bearing the burden of all cosmic grief.

Fiery glow enveloped his body while the ground shook beneath his clawed feet.

Nature itself seemed to mourn the passing of this life.

Crown-like horns extended menacingly towards the sky, manifesting an eldritch power never seen before.

"Now I understand, why she always referred to him as a fallen angel and never called him a devil", Astarion confessed.

Powerless, he watched as Raphael rose in demonic form, carrying the seemingly lifeless body tightly pressed against him.

"This war is about to end, isn't it?"

Karlach tried to organise what had just happened, retreating together with her comrades.

Shaking his head and turning away from the tragedy, Astarion replied:

"No. The war was already over when the fading of her life turned his flaming heart to ice."

Loud rumbling sounded...

[persephonememes]

* (  THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR /  SENTENCE PROMPTS.

These may have been edited for clarity or length or to better apply for roleplaying.

❛ i was just really, really sad. ❜

❛ dead doesn’t mean gone. ❜

❛ i thought i was going to die too. ❜

❛ it only felt like dying because, actually, i was still alive. ❜

❛ to truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them. ❜

❛ we can’t count on the past. ❜

❛ we think we have it trapped in our memories, but memories fade. ❜

❛ you’ll find it much quieter out here. ❜

❛ any of us could die at any moment. ❜

❛ she/he was my anchor. ❜

❛ i’m a lot braver than people think. ❜

❛ nothing holds, and all things change, given time. ❜

❛ change does not often announce itself. ❜

❛ all things fade. ❜

❛ time takes all things. ❜

❛ it is the way of the world. ❜

❛ the past recedes, memories fade, and so, true, does the spirit. ❜

❛ everything yields to time, even the soul. ❜

❛ there’s a difference between feeling good and feeling alive. ❜

❛ funerals are for the living. it’s up to the living to decide what they can and cannot bear. ❜

❛ i don’t know why brilliant young women are always punished. ❜

❛ you don’t have to lose yourself to find happiness, you know. ❜

❛ i was having the strangest dream. ❜

❛ what have you got when your back’s against the wall when there’s nothing left for you but faith? ❜

❛ sometimes, right can seem wrong, and wrong can seem right. ❜

❛ do you know what life is really all about? ❜

❛ save them all if you can, but put your own oxygen mask on first. ❜

❛ death is something to mourn, not fear. ❜

❛ i wasn't going to ask you if you're alright because i don't like being lied to. so, what's wrong? ❜

❛ everyone is exhaustive. even the best ones. ❜

❛ we are meant to die. it's natural. ❜

❛ every living thing grows out of every dying thing. ❜

❛ that's where all it's beauty lies, you know, in the mortality of the thing. ❜

❛ one day at a time is what we've got. ❜

❛ one day at a time is what we've got. it's what everybody's got, if you get down to it. ❜

❛ if you can't feel anything, then i'll feel everything for the both of us. ❜

❛ but no one is going anywhere, okay? ❜

❛ you shouldn't be thinking of losing each-other at all. ❜

❛ don't let that loom over your happiness right now. ❜

❛ it is rare what you've got. ❜

❛ what is the catch? ❜

❛ i’m not running, from anything and it hurts me when you say that. ❜

❛ perfectly splendid. ❜

❛ you have to promise me that you’ll stay in your room. ❜

❛ none of us are blameless. ❜

❛ on a scale of zero to american, how would you rate her? ❜

❛ it’s such a draining thing, dealing with children. ❜

❛ i have an inquiring mind. ❜

❛ we both know you don’t make mistakes. ❜

❛ let me guess, you are to be our very own mary poppins? ❜

❛ i hope she haunts that fucker forever. ❜

❛ why should anyone hate a lake? ❜

❛ let me show you just how beautiful you are. ❜

❛ it’s just you and me then. ❜

❛ look at you all flush. you’re pretty when you blush. ❜

❛ being with him might be scary at times but, it’s also exciting and fun. ❜

❛ and for the first time in my life, that little voice in my head saying i’m not good enough has disappeared. ❜

❛ i’ve never felt so alive. ❜

❛ i swear, you’re such a bore, and you don’t know when the leave well enough alone. ❜

❛ sometimes people just need to be alone. ❜

❛ i couldn’t sleep. i feel like i can never sleep again, frankly. ❜

❛ haven’t we done this already? ❜

❛ i have a surprise for you. ❜

❛ i have a surprise for you. ❜

❛ don’t leave your room at night. ❜

❛ the past is always present. ❜

❛ the stories we tell each other have a way of changing. ❜

❛ love is a haunting melody that i have never mastered and i fear i never will. ❜

❛ no good ever comes from dwelling on the worst. ❜

❛ you can’t choose who you love. ❜

❛ ghosts do not have to be scary. they can be comforting. ❜

❛ the heart is a fragile thing, and it can break in many different ways. ❜

❛ people often fear what they cannot understand. ❜

❛ we are all haunted in some way, by the things we have lost or the things we have done. ❜

❛ death is not the end, it’s just a door we all have to go through. ❜

❛ the past cannot be changed, but it can still hurt us. ❜

❛ the things we bury have a way of finding their way back to the surface. ❜

❛ some people are born to be alone, and others are born to be together. ❜

❛ ghosts are memories, and memories are what make us who we are. ❜

❛ the dead don’t really leave us. they live on in the memories we have of them. ❜

❛ the more we try to run from something, the more it chases us. ❜

❛ we all have a shadow self, the part of us that we don’t like to admit exists. ❜

❛ the world is full of secrets, and some are best left buried. ❜

❛ the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes that can be a terrifying thing. ❜

❛ every relationship is a dance, and both people need to be willing to take a step forward. ❜

❛ life can be cruel, but it can also be beautiful. ❜

❛ we are all just playing a part, but some roles are harder to shake off than others. ❜

❛ the past is written, but the future is still unwritten. ❜

❛ the greatest tragedy in life is not death, but the things we leave unsaid. ❜

❛ i do not like this game. ❜

❛ i'm actually pretty in love with you. ❜

❛ no one should ever need that much help. ❜

❛ you let me handle this part. ❜

❛ the wrong kind of love can fuck you up, follow you and make you do some really stupid shit. ❜

[darlingod]

have you read the lost sisters novella? if you have, has it changed your perspective on taryn in any way?

Yes I have! And I guess it has changed my perspective slowly over time, but how I feel about her still hasn’t changed you know? I’ve never liked her but now I understand why she does the things she does. She’s a lost, terrified, fragile, and naive mortal just as Jude was, and probably a little more so. She was as determined to fall in love/find love as Jude was determined on becoming a knight.

Although I don’t hate her anymore, it doesn’t mean I like her. Understanding her didn’t make her more interesting or likable imo, but the shitty things she does make sense.

In the end I dislike her less, but I don’t like her more than I did before. I’m not on a pro or anti Taryn side. I just never really cared about her character altogether.