#Tattoo Removal Flower Hill

[longisland-derm]

Tattoo Removal Near Me

Our revolutionary PiQo4 Laser delivers high-intensity light in pulses of a few billionths of a second into the tattooed area. The ink’s selectively absorb the colored light without damaging the normal surrounding skin tissue. The light breaks the tattoo ink into smaller particles that are then harmlessly removed by the body in the weeks after each treatment. Professional tattoos can take 5-10 sessions for complete removal. Some tattoos may never fade.

[swampbrick]

Y’all have waited so patiently for me to get my shit together and format this post, and for that, I thank y’all endlessly (for not calling me out on my avoidant personality and procrastination xoxo)

Without further ado, I give you…

Swamp’s GhostSoap Recs

PART TWO

(electric boogaloo)

My qualifications to make this post are that I’m neurodivergent and have read over half the damn archive at this point.

If you see your fic featured here and don't want it included in a rec post, just shoot me a dm! Will remove any from the list without question or complaint at the author's request.

Notes: I tried to sort some of them out into some broader categories for easier perusal, however, some fics might touch more than one of these topics. I went with whichever category was the MOST relevant in regard to the fic's content. Fics in italics are under 10K words. Stuff involving religious guilt and heavy religious undertones are marked in orange. Some fics are privated by the author- in that case the link might not work for you if you’re on mobile, so just look it up by author and title once you’re logged into your AO3 account. Happy reading!

Random Fics I Enjoyed and Can't Sort Into Broad Categories

The Wedding Lt. by SomnolentPavana

Like Watching Paint Dry by Grangers_apprentice

Mission Briefs by BleedingTypewriter

Don't be Scared by the Starting Gun by Suliana

Afraid (of Changing) by EmpressCirque

HALO by Cryypticchaotic

Tough Love by The_neurodivergent_nerd

Smooth Sailing on Choppy Water by coderaven

Poison Apple by surveycorpsjean

Punch Drunk by Drolly

Tesco's Finest by Vanemis

If You Don't Stop, I'll End up Believing You by Hochseeperle

Assorted AUs

like the dust (that hides the glow) by ArcadeGhostAdventurer [soulmates]

In My Time of Need by WhisperedWords12 [omegaverse]

lotus flower by exavibus [tattoo artist x florist]

Damaged Goods by Red_Clegane [lawyer x prostitute]

Safety Hazard by Red_Clegane [president's son x secret service]

On Leave

No Reqiuem by ice_hot_13

set your teeth against my throat (give me something pretty to wear beneath my blood-stained clothes) by aetherealmoss

let these hills absolve me by flowersferns (THE SHEERP FARMING FIC SOBBING CRYING)

solemn prayer, poppy in my hair by congee4lunch

A Scottish Bastard's Smile by SnarlingGherkin

The Fairtytale of Manchester by MildLimerence

Injury and/or Discharge

all that's said in the low light by headlocket (my favorite fic of all time actually if you haven't seen my 9000 other posts saying so)

My frozen heart (would melt just for you) by Red_Clegane

Clue by Wispscribbles

I Woke Up Underground by WispScribbles

Vicissitude by crows_and_curses

Yours Sincerely by LeoDoesGames

i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm by marviless

Affirmative, Sir by Wixiany

To Drive a Man to Madness by Crypticchaotic

This Is (Mostly) P0rn

After Dark by Sylencia (THE BDSM CLUB FIC WOOF WOOF)

If I ever saw you try to be a saint (I'd be appalled) by Xalethar

Chicago Whiskey by Serpentwyne

Make Me Bad by Serpentwyne

gimme just a little bit (more) by applepieces [09!ghostsoap]

Promise Ring by LXVERSOFFENSE

Want It All by TuxedoHummingbird

A Fool's Gambit by MildLimerence

tame me by MikaelLo

the human condition by bilbhoebangins

All the Sins You Never Had the Courage to Commit by mothbeast

The Worthy Vessel by MildLimerence

Hotline by MildLimerence

Bonus Fic!

Here's a Gaz Centric, Poly141 fic that has ghostsoap in it but does not focus on it heavily enough to go in one of the other categories. This is Kyle's time to shine.

Hand Around My Heart by Grangers_apprentice

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 1 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

For Tonight We Might Die

Synopsis

"Everyone knows students at this school disappear; they all just pretend it isn't happening."

Strange things are going on at Coal Hill Academy. Shadows stalk the students, people go missing and the strange new teacher has something to do about it. Charlie, April, Ram and Tanya must team up to battle the Shadow Kin. If all goes well, prom won't be an utter disaster.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Coach with the Dragon Tattoo

Synopsis

Ram Singh has seen too much. His girlfriend's dead, he lost his leg, and now he sees a gruesome corpse in the locker room. Meanwhile, he has trouble adapting to his new prosthetic leg, screwing up in football. Someone else dies. Is it all in his head, or is this the work of a skin-peeling dragon?

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Nightvisiting

Synopsis

London is infiltrated by an eerie alien with the ability to morph into the shape of lost loved ones.

Tanya has an unexpected visitor come to her window in the dead of night — and she's not the only one, as Ram and Miss Quill face their own startling visitors.

Confronted with these emotional encounters, the team must overcome the persuasion of this strange new threat and battle through the streets to stop Tanya from being lost forever.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Co-Owner of a Lonely Heart/Brave-ish Heart

Synopsis

April starts to feel the effects of sharing her heart with Corakinus, and his attempts to sever the attachment only make it stronger.

When April's estranged father makes a startling appearance she confronts him with Shadow Kin force, manifesting traits of the Shadow Kin leader. Frightened by this extraordinary new found power, April seeks comforts in Ram, and vows to reclaim her heart as her own.

Meanwhile, something strange is happening to the others - London is slowly being infested with unusual, sinister flower petals.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Detained

Synopsis

A mysterious asteroid throws Charlie, April, Ram, Matteusz and Tanya outside of space and time and Miss Quill is nowhere to be found.

They now have to confess their deepest and darkest secrets to each other without losing their minds. Can they stick together to fight the Prisoner or will their confessions split them apart?

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Metaphysical Engine or What Quill Did

Synopsis

With the gang trapped in detention and out of the way, Miss Quill accepts Dorothea's astonishing offer: to help remove the arn from her head, so she can finally reclaim her freedom.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Lost

Synopsis

As Corakinus rages war on Earth, the Coal Hill defenders must fight the Shadow Kin one last time.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

[stressisakiller]

As You Wish

Steve Rogers x Reader Soulmate AU

(As you wish Part 2)

Summary: What happens when after moving into Stark Tower you run into a certain Captain

Warnings: None really, fluff, like one cussword a little bit of spice

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Fluffy chapter yay!  Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for future chapters! Thank yall for reading!’

<< Previous   Next >>

Life working side by side with Tony was dangerous. When Killian attacked Tony it was you not Pepper who was taken and subjected to the Extremis serum. This caused you to heal crazy fast and gave you super strength, which was pretty cool but not very useful for someone who spent most of their time in a robotics lab trying not to crush something when it wasn't working.

You later discovered that Killian mistakenly believed that you were in fact Tony's soulmate, while you had always thought that it was Pepper. She quickly refuted your claim when you told her, pulling the back of her jeans down enough to show the smiley face that graced her butt cheek. Turns out that her soulmate was none other than Happy the head of security.

 About six months after the battle of new york, after Tony and the whole Killian/Mandarin situation, Tony asked very nicely if you would move into the Avengers tower with him. He needed to get the Avengers tower going, and after everything that happened and his panic attacks, he really didn't want to live there alone. He was also hoping that if you lived in the tower that the avengers would be more willing to as well. By this point you had met and become friends with most of them save for Captain America, he hasn’t been around much. He was trying to find his place in this new world and taking as many missions as Shield will give him in order to feel needed 

The tower was much different this time than the last time you had been there. There was less plastic film and dust everywhere and all of the construction work was done. Most notably, the wall on Stark's living room floor was no longer a gaping hole.

The top eight levels of the tower were for the avengers. The penthouse was where Tony stayed, no surprise there. The level directly below was his lab space which was restricted access for the most part and then there was the common level under that. The common level was composed of a large kitchen and dining area, as well as a massive living room with the biggest tv you had ever seen. This floor also houses a theater, and an arcade room equipped with pool tables and any other game you could think of. Tony is such a child sometimes, not that you were complaining you loved to play pool. The next three floors are where you and the rest of the Avengers would live. You would each get your own suite that you could arrange and decorate however you saw fit. Each suite includes a kitchenette, and small living room that was separate from the bedroom, and a massive ensuite bath. The lowest two levels were dedicated to the training room and medical ward, as well as a giant pool and sauna area, these floors allowed for outside access as long as they were vetted.

Six months later, life in the tower was going well. You, Tony and Bruce, were the main people living there. You could understand that though, Nat and Clint were constantly out on missions for shield and mainly stayed on base in DC. Tony told you that Steve was currently living in an apartment in DC. He didn't want to live on base but he was running missions for Shield on and off. Thor was off-world with Loki so life was pretty quiet. 

 Then there was a mission that the Captain went on that didn’t go the way he thought. He was wounded and brought back a captive. You were in the common area when the door was thrown open and a bloody Steve Rogers burst through carrying a soaking wet girl over his shoulder.

“The Medical wing, where is it?” He questioned voice hard from pain or fatigue or both. 

“This way.” you hurried off, not looking behind you, you knew that he would follow. 

When you arrived, you called for Dr. Cho and Steve told her what was going on and placed the girl on a stretcher. The nurses pushed her to a room to monitor her until she woke up. He was then shown to a separate room to be looked over and have the bullet removed. 

 That night Tony pulled you into the living room to watch your favorite movie, the princess bride. It was about halfway through when an exhausted Steve came through the door and flopped down on the couch beside the one that you and Tony were currently lounging on. It was coming to your favorite part, Buttercup was currently yelling at the Dread Pirate Roberts and about to push him down the hill.

“Oooh,” you said hitting Tony’s shoulder, “I love this part,” you spoke along with Wesley as he rolled down the hill, “As you Wiiiisssshhhh.” you clapped your hands together, “that will forever be the best reveal ever.” 

You didn’t notice Steve’s stare as you said those words. Holy Shit he thought his tattoo finally made sense, and yet the girl that fate said was perfect for him had her legs thrown over Tony’s lap and was leaning against him while watching the movie. He stood quickly and stomped out of the room, today was just not his day. 

 You look over at Tony confused when Steve left.

“What the hell do you think that was about?” you asked, growing more confused as you noticed the smirk on Tony’s lips.

“Why are you smiling like that?” You had to stop yourself from slapping him when he started to laugh.

“What the hell, Stark, tell me what's going on?”

“I think that Capsicle just realized that you're his soulmate.” He said through chuckles.

“What the fuck do you mean he realized that I’m his soulmate?” you asked your whole body going still as you waited for him to elaborate.

“I thought you had realized this earlier,” he said looked genuinely confused, “The captain is your soulmate, I’ve known since we had that movie night after finding him in the ice. Your tattoo is his dog tags with the flower of his birth month and a phrase that I’ve heard him say multiple times while next to him in a fight.”

You just sat there frozen trying to comprehend what exactly the man sitting in front of you was saying. 

“You know, he may be a little jealous that his soulmate was cuddling someone else since he probably doesn’t realize that you're like a sister to me. You should probably go after him.”  His words seemed to break you from your trance as you threw yourself very clumsily from the couch to follow after him.

“Jarvis, where did Rogers go?” 

“He is in the training room miss.”

“Thanks, J”

You ran all the way down, opening the door you were met by the scene of Steve hitting a punching bag so hard that it broke and flew off of its chain.

“You know, I’m not sure that those are made to withstand the punch of a super soldier, maybe I should design one that can,” you said leaning against the wall and trying not to show the fact that your heart was beating a million miles a minute.

“And why would you feel the need to do that, I’m sure Stark has plenty of things that he needs you to design that are more important than a Steve-proof punching bag.” You could tell that he was gritting his teeth as he spoke, reaching for another bag. You step towards him slowly, making sure not to walk too quickly from fear of him leaving.

“Well I’m sure that the great Tony Stark can take care of himself, and anyways, I think creating something to make my soulmate's life easier is more important.”

He slowly pulled his eyes from the punching bag that he was hanging onto the hook to look at you, pain obvious in his eyes.

“Really? Cause you seemed pretty comfortable with him.” you could see the vulnerability in his eyes as he spoke, he had gone through so much already.

“Yes really, Tony is more like an annoying older brother than anything. I’ve been working around him for the past five or so years, trust me when I say that I have no desire to date him. You on the other hand.” You made sure that your voice turned teasing on the last words, you wanted to make him smile, you hadn’t gotten to see that yet.

“Well good, cause I think I may have to kick his ass if you did.” You could hear the teasing lilt in his voice and the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. But as quickly as it came it was gone.

“How long have you known?” his voice cracked a little as he spoke. You let out a small huff of a laugh.

“Would you believe me if I told you that Tony had to tell me when I was confused as to why you left the room?” His eyes snapped to yours.

“Really? You didn’t know?”

“After not meeting my soulmate by the time I turned 25 I just pushed it to the back of my mind, I stopped trying to figure out what my tattoo meant and I focused on my work. Plus there were a couple of life-threatening instances that distracted me." You joked. You weren't 100% sure how to handle this situation, your main friend group consisted of a playboy philanthropist and a science nerd that turned into a giant green guy when angry, not really the best people to show you how to be vulnerable.

“I understand that," he said pausing before continuing, "part of my problem was that my tattoo didn’t show up until after I came out of the ice.” he looked down at his hands and you noticed that they were fidgeting, he must be just as nervous as you.

“I didn’t know that,” you murmured, deciding to ask the question that was begging to be asked.

“What is your tattoo, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He shook his head, “Not at all.” he stepped towards you and pulled up his sleeve, and turned out his arm so you could see the flesh just under his armpit. As soon as you saw the tattoo you burst out laughing.

“Of course that’s what my mark is, man I’m such a nerd.” You clutched your stomach as you laughed, tears coming to your eyes from the range of emotions that you are currently going through.

“Can I ask why I have this tattooed on me?” He questioned, clearly curious to the reasoning as to why he had a movie quote on his arm forever. You were finally able to pull yourself together and sober up from the surprise of his tattoo.

“That movie came out the year after I was born and it was my mom’s favorite movie to watch with me, we watched it at least 4 times a year. But we always made sure to watch it on my birthday as a family, it became an integral part of my life, plus it’s just sooo quotable.” you said with a smile, “Do you want to look at my tattoo?” you asked motioning at your arm with your head. He slowly nodded, not able to find the words.

You slowly pulled your sleeve up, showing him the inside of your forearm and the dog tags that graced your skin. He stepped forward gently taking your arm in his hand so that he could study the markings on your skin. Tracing the outline and the words that he could see before smiling.

“What does it mean?” you asked softly looking at him through your lashes.

“It’s um,” he cleared his throat, “it’s my dog tags or at least the lower one is, it says my name, then Captain America and the city I was born in, Brooklyn. The top one however is something that I always seem to say when I’m getting beat up in a fight in order to remind myself that I could do it. And the flower… I think it’s the flower from my birth month? I was born in July so I think it’s a reference to that.” You nodded at his explanation, his fingers still gently tracing over your skin, causing goosebumps to pop up from the feeling.

“So, would you like to watch the movie with me? We can start it over so that you won’t be lost. I know that you struggle with pop culture, old man.” You smirked at him as you spoke, he just rolled his eyes.

“Be careful, this old man could still show you a thing or two.”

You laughed out loud at that, your laugh changed to a squeal when you felt him wrap his arms around your legs and throw you over his shoulder. 

“Ahh, let me down!!” you beat at his shoulders trying to get him to release you but he wouldn’t budge, he just continued to carry you until you ended back in the living room and he threw you down onto the couch. He wasn’t even breathing hard after carrying you up 2 flights of stairs, jerk. 

Tony was nowhere to been seen as you restarted the movie. You ran and grabbed some more popcorn to share, pouring in some M&Ms before plopping back down next to Steve and pulling on your couch blanket. It didn't take long for you to cuddle into his side and for your eyes to droop. 

Steve smiled at you when he realized that you had passed out before you even got to the part he had walked in on earlier. He didn't mind though, he just got comfortable and pulled you in closer before allowing himself to relax and fall asleep. 

Tagged Users: @writerwrites

[aiyaar]

Merry Christmas everyone!💫💕 Hope you're having an amazing Christmas with the people you love. Here's my Christmas gift for y'all. Solangelo celebrating Christmas 🖤💛🌲💫

Ariana Grande- Love Is Everything

Nico woke up the next morning, feeling so much happiness. Sunlight streamed throught the curtains and shone in his eyes. Apollo had already started his day.

Nico felt a hand in his hair and rolled over, meeting with sky blue eyes.

“Merry Christmas.” Will whispered, smiling at him.

“Merry Christmas.”

Nico lifted himself a little bit, resting his chin on Will’s chest, drawing his finger around the tattoo on his left pectoral.

“Still can’t believe it’s real.” Nico said, raising on elbow and looking Will in the eyes. ”You’re real. And I’m finally home. With you.”

Will lay on his back, entangling his long fingers in the black curls.

“A whole month.” He said, cupping Nico’s face with his hands. “So many things we can do. But all I want is to lie in the bed like this with you.”

“I’d like to spend the whole Christmas day like this.” Nico said, feeling Will’s scent. He always smelled like morning dew, grass and medicaments.

“But we have a lot to do.” Nico felt Will’s chest lifting up a little with a sigh. “Mom’s been calling since 6 a.m. And I promised Kayla and Austin we will visit camp today. Dad will come too.”

“Yeah.” Nico smiled, thinking about Naomi. Will had an amazing mother. “I also need to see Hazel.”

“Then I’ll go and make us breakfast. After that we’ll go celebrating Christmas with our families.”

Will tried to get up but Nico was still lying on top of him.

“Or we can cuddle ten more minutes.”

“Okay.” Will chuckled, lying down and kissing Nico’s forehead. “Ten more minutes.”

*

Ten minutes grew into an hour, so now they were driving on the highway to see Will’s mother. And they were late

They were wearing the sweaters Naomi made for them last year: Nico’s was black, with a skull in a Christmas year and Will’s yellow, reindeers on his sweater were circling around an embroidered bright sun.

Naomi Solace opened the door, wearing a red dress and an apron. Her auburn hair were gathered in a bun.

“Boys!” She cried, hugging them both. She smelled like cookies and chocolate. “Come in, come in. I have so many things to ask you. Nico, how’s there in Venice?”

Nico always loved that atmosphere that was in the air in Will’s childhood house on Christmas. It was special.

Naomi kept asking about Nico’s college, Venice, Will’s exams. She told them about many Christmas concerts she had. They were talking, laughing, singing.

*

The camp Half-Blood was always quiet on Christmas. There were like twenty people who stayed and Nico loved that calmness around the camp.

Walking to the Big House, Nico had so many memories. There’s the lake, where he and Will like to go on a canoe date. Here’s his cabin, no one lived there for a couple of years. He looked at the dining pavilion, a hole he made in a Christmas day many years ago, the worst day of his life. He looked at the Big House and could almost see teenagers Will and Nico playing this stupid card game with Dionysus on the porch.

Nostalgia flooded his heart and tears appeared in his eyes as he remembered the first day he saw this mazing place. It was ages ago but he remembered it as if it was tomorrow.

Will took his hand and Nico knew that Will had the same sweet ache in his heart.

Chiron galloped on the snowy meadow, greeting them and wishing merry Christmas. Dionysus looked as grumpy as usual but he felicitated them and gave Nico a candy cane. Nico never understood it but Dionysus had grown to care about Nico as if he was his son. Ever since that Tartarus thing… No, he told himself, don’t think about it.

They met Apollo on the archery spot.

“My boys!” He hugged Will and kissed the top of Nico’s head. Nico got used to this, the sun god has been doing this every time he saw Nico after the battle in the tower of Nero. It was sort of a habit.

“You guys look so good.” Apollo beamed at them. “How have you been? My boy was probably dying there without his cute little boyfriend on his side.” Apollo petted Nico’s cheek. Nico should’ve already get used to it but he still blushed.

After Apollo they met Piper and Leo, who returned to camp to work on some secret project or whatever. Then they met Kayla and Austin and went to the dining pavilion to drink eggnog together.

*

The next stop were Jacksons. Sally’s greeting was as warm as usual. She almost treated Percy’s demigod friends as if they are her own children. Estelle was already six and she kept clinging to Nico, ranting about everything.

Will and Annabeth were discussing something about colleges, while Percy told Nico about New Rome, the huntresses and all that he missed when he was in Venice.

“Thank the fates there’s no titans, giants and gods who seek for help this year.” Percy said, snatching a cookie from Sally’s tray. “It’s been calm for years.”

“Hey.” Nico slightly hit him on the head. “Don’t jinx it, idiota. “

Percy rubbed his head, pouting a little but couldn’t argue with di Angelo.

*

They didn’t stay for a long time in Hades place. It wasn’t in the Underworld, no. He had a luxurious house, little gloomy but snug in the living world. Nico always felt uncomfortable when Demeter was around, so he was happy it was only his father and Persephone.

His stepmother wasn’t that horrible now, after all these years she had grown to maybe like Nico and Will, being the son of a son god, had a good effect on her flowers, so she didn’t mind them visiting sometimes. As a Christmas present she gave Nico a whole bouquet of roses and he had no idea what to do with them. The bouquet was two big and Will said it was cute how when Nico hold it, his face couldn’t be seen and roses almost overbalanced them.

It was the most awkward meeting this Christmas. Hades had gave Nico too many presents: the brand new IPhone that came out like yesterday, new watches (Nico didn’t even wear watches) and transferred more money to his bank account. Knowing that Nico, didn’t like driving, he solemnly handed over new car keys for Will, staying that the car was already on the parking lot of their house. Hades gave Will a new car every Christmas, since he was 17 and Will didn’t know what to do with them all. When they tried to sell one, Hades took offense, so they had to keep them.

Besides the present he kept glaring at Will as if he did something bad and even though they’ve been together for five years now, he asked what was his actual intentions, while Persephone gave Nico a lecture about why they should have more flowers in home.

They walked out of Hades’ place embarrassed, as usual.

*

The New Rome was, unlike Camp Half-Blood, very animated. The Christmas was in the air.

Huntresses of Artemis came by, having a day of. Nico was happy to chat with Reyna but he kept looking for one particular person in the crowd.

Jason told him he’ll come back to America too and will celebrate Christmas in New Rome.

Nico looked around, suddenly yelping when someone hugged him from the back, lifting him from the ground.

“Jason!” Nico laughed.

“Hey, lil bro.” Jason smiled, petting his head. “Hello, Will.” He gave Will a high-five.

“How are you? How’s London.” Nico asked, when they sat down on the bench.

“Everything’s cool. A little busy, though. I won’t be able to stay for too long.” Jason answered.

“Well,” Will faced Jason. “You definitely have to visit us before you leave.”

“Yeah.” Nico said. “Anything new in your…personal life?” Nico asked curiously.

Jason laughed softly.

“Maybe.” Nico squinted at him. “Come on, you know I’d tell you if it was serious.” But Jason looked slightly embarrassed. “Ugh, so… Did you guys see Hazel already?”

“Nah.” Nico said. “Reyna said she and Frank are a little busy now.”

“I wonder what are they busy with.” Will chuckled, making both Jason and Nico’s eyes widen.

“Will!”

*

A half an hour later, Hazel and Frank finally walked out of their praetor house. Frank squeezed Nico and Will in a bear hug, Hazel kissed Nico on the check and hugged Will.

“Gods, I’ve missed you.” She said, taking Nico’s hand. “How’s college?”

They walked together, Nico talking about his year in Venice, Will about his exams and stuff. Frank told them that he’s been planning to go back to Canada next year. He wants to join an army.

“Really?” Nico was a little shocked. “But what about your praetor position.”

Frank looked around, observing the camp as the stood on the hill.

“There’s a lot of worthy guys. Lavinia, for example.” He sighed. “We were just thinking about trying to have our own life, you know? No war, no gods.”

Will looked at Hazel.

“So you’re leaving too?”

Hazel looked a little sad but a gleam lightened in her eyes.

“I want to go to college. In Canada. We’re planning to move together.” She looked at Nico, as if expecting his reaction. He took her hand.

“That’s great! I’m sure you guys we’ll be fine.”

Hazel smiled at him, resting her curly head on her brother’s shoulder.

*

They drove back home in silence, a warm feeling in their hearts.

“You know.” Nico started, looking at Will. “Five years ago I couldn’t imagine it’ll be like this.”

Will quickly glanced at him, then returning his eyes on the road.

“What do you mean?”

Nico sighed, closing his eyes.

“I have everything now, you know. And it scares me, how fast the nights are changing. I still remember the Battle of Manhattan, as if it was yesterday. And here we are now. And all this changes, they are… Scary. Me living in Venice, you here, Hazel and Frank leaving to Canada. Even Percy and Annabeth are planning to move somewhere else. And what if with all these changes… we’ll lose each other?”

Will removed one hand from the steering wheel, resting it on Nico’s lap. He slowed down the car a little and looked at Nico.

“I know what you mean. Ever since you went to college, it’s been bothering me. But you know what?” Will smiled, squeezing Nico’s hand. “No matter what, we are family. All of us. This Christmas all I can think about is family. My mom, dad, siblings. You. You and your friends, your sister. Even your father.” Will chuckled. “We all are family. And it doesn’t matter where we live and what we do. We’re always together.”

Nico fell silent for a moment, thinking about Will’s words. Then he smiled.

“Right.” He rubbed Will’s hand with a thumb, feeling his warmth. “Family.”

So many years Nico spent looking for something, that will make him feel calm. Happy. He had friends, sister. He met Will. And on this Christmas evening he finally found the right word. They were together, no matter what. Jason, Reyna, Percy. Will’s parents and Nico’s parents. Hazel and Frank. And, most important, Will. He had them all. They were his actual family.

Nico closed his eyes, feeling drowsy as the car wiggled a little. He used to wonder how his life would go if Bianca was with him. But now it didn’t matter. All the things he’s been through was perfectly safe in his heart and he loved them. His life led him to something wonderful.

Eight years passed since the worst Christmas of his life. And today was probably the best Christmas he’d ever had.

Yes, it didn’t matter if he was in Venice, Will in America and Hazel in Canada. It didn’t matter where his family was. As long as love lived in his heart, they are together.

Nico opened his eyes, glancing at Will, who was concentrating on the road. He smiled, closing his eyes again.

Family, he thought as he fell asleep, still feeling Will’s hand in his own.

(Thank you guys for supporting and reading my blog. I've started it few month ago and there's already so many of you! Thank you so much 💕💕💕💕 Merry Christmas guys

[yhtaek]

hello! I’m here with resident bad boy, bae euntaek (bae1), more commonly known as taek, a tattoo artist and the owner of 영원 (yeongwon), a tattoo parlour along boulevard 88! he’s basically the boy your parents tell you to stay away from, and it’s not just the tattoos, or the fact that he is a high school dropout rumoured to have been in prison for a year, pretty much everything else about him screams bad news. here are some links to his pages ( about / bio ) and more information about him can be found under the cut, along with a brief list of plot ideas because I haven’t had the time to do up a proper plot page. if anything catches your eye, feel free to let me know, otherwise, we can also brainstorm and come with something more fitting! lastly, if you’d like to plot, you can hit the like button and I’ll drop you an im!

more information: trigger warnings: death.

his parents died in a car crash when he was nine and his younger sister and him were left in the care of their grandparents ever since

both of them were in the car at the time of accident but they managed to come out of it alive and rumours about them being cursed started spreading around the hill

he’s basically the complete opposite of his sister, she's sweet and cheerful while he’s angry and aloof, kinda like the human embodiments of my melody and kuromi

owns a tattoo parlour at boulevard 88, right next to his sister’s flower shop (essentially the meme of that black house next to the pink house)

uses anger to mask his grief and puts on a strong front because he’s convinced he is his sister’s pillar of strength and the day he crumbles, she will too

so yes, he’s the epitome of an overprotective older brother

his grandparents were pretty lenient with him growing up, letting him do whatever he wants to because they could tell that he was struggling internally but he abused it and ended up going down the wrong path 

was a horrible student, often landing himself in detention, barely turning up for classes and eventually had to repeat his junior year in high school

suffered a deep cut from the accident which left a scar on his left arm, which that got him many questions about it

sick and tired of the questions and constant reminder of the accident, he went to get his scar covered up with a tattoo in his senior year of high school

this didn’t help with his reputation in school and the school insisted he got his tattoo removed or he’ll have to take his leave from the school

unwilling to remove his tattoo, he decided to drop out

that’s when his interest in tattoo art started developing, when he got addicted to the euphoria a new ink gives him

somewhere between 2016-2017, he enrolled himself into a tattoo art school in tokyo, where he took some time off from life on the hill to find himself and get away from the bad memories here

would stay in tokyo for good if not for his sister back at home so he eventually returned home and opened his tattoo parlour, after his tattoo art instagram account went viral

now he’s back at yangcheon hill, living life one day at a time, just hoping to finish up his time on earth as peacefully and painlessly as possible

plot ideas:

friends he met back in tokyo / people who have seen a more carefree side of him, people who knew him for the person they saw, and not for his tragic past

someone who wants to take care of him / taek is used to being the caretaker and protector, especially towards his younger sister and grandparents, but deep down, he’s just a broken child who wants to be loved and cared for so it would be nice to have someone take on this role reversal 

tattoo art apprentice + part-timer / preferably someone very eager to learn, someone who is the opposite of him, someone who is bubbly and excitable to melt his walls? I can see taek being strict and aloof around them at first but he eventually warms up to them and ends up treating him like a younger sibling whom he cares for a lot but doesn’t admit (better still if they’re taking on this job behind their parents’ back)

ex number one / someone who broke up with him because she felt like he puts his sister first and above her (true)

ex number two / someone who tried to open him up to her but failed as he was too emotionally unavailable and just really bad with feelings

strictly friends with benefits (well maybe not even friends) / taek craves affection but he doesn’t realise it’s because he wants to be loved and cared for, confuses it with sexual desire and often turns to hook ups to fill the void in his heart though it never seems to work (he doesn’t hesitate to let them know that it is strictly physical though it would be fun to have some complications)

people that take pity on him and sister / people that try too hard to be nice to him, though out of good intentions, he just hates being pitied and so he finds it hard to appreciate it

people he rubbed off the wrong way / there’s got to be many of these as he has a pretty bad temper

someone who has a crush on him / and has no qualms about showing it though he’s terrible at detecting these things as he’s not the best with matters of the heart

someone he confides in that doesn’t know of his real identity / maybe like an online friend of some sort? someone that has a deep bond with him, not knowing who they are in real life

customers at his tattoo parlour / regulars? unexpected customers? people who appear all “goody two shoes”, like they would never get a tattoo, or nervous first-timers with a lot of questions

a customer at his sister’s flower shop / he took over when she had to run an errand and they’re surprised to see him arranging the flowers in a pink apron, a big contrast from his usual image

people that are romantically involved with his sister / overprotective older brother here to scrutinise you if you even consider asking his sister out

forbidden love/friendships / people whose parents don’t like him or his family and are told to stay away from him but well, the more you tell them no, the more they want it 

fellow broken souls / because broken people get drawn to each other right?

[deceiviious]

@perfect-fourth

“Settled. Your supply of arms shall arrive within a few weeks.” The eldest of the three manned gang, a member of the Navori brotherhood who went by the name of Jodam, held his hand to seal the deal.

He was the eldest of the attending members, long, grey hair unkempt, but tied to a messy knot. His nose was disproportionately large and red and his breath reeked of long nights at taverns and inns. Zed gripped his hand tightly after a short pause, a slight nod of his masked head. Their rendezvous had proved long overdue and fruitful – the shadow order was running quite low on weapons and armor since Zed had implemented the rule of not looting their victims’ possessions. It was a form of respect that he had decided to show to any Ionians who dared oppose their views – one that was met with eyerolls and hushed whispers behind his back. He was foolish, Kayn had insisted once, for missing the goldmine that were enchanted brooches, silver daggers or perhaps a leather purse.

Instead, Zed had opted to pay the Navori brotherhood with quite a few favors to supply his demand of weaponry. Nobody had accompanied him on his trek through the forests and hills of Southern Ionia – it was not a long journey and the rendezvous had barely lasted more than an afternoon, including a light supper and chat with Jodam.

“You’re certain you don’t care to stay the night?” Jodam offered.

“Certain.”

Zed pathed across the small village, his boots clacking against the cobbled ways. It was about midday, if he upkept a good tempo he’d arrive at the Temple of Thanjuul before night fell. He made his way through the Ionian forest, following the general direction of east until he reached a dirt road. It wasn’t highly frequented – occasionally, in the distance, he heard the thuds of hooves, dampened by the springy ground, but the riders never reached him. After a few hours of silent travel, he reached up to pull the mask from his face, white hair sticking to his skin. He brushed the strand out of his eyes, emptying the last sip out of the skin of water he carried around his waist. Although it was already autumn and the leaves were starting to turn golden and red and fall, days in Ionian could still reach pleasant or even warm degrees. It was the nights that made it obvious that winter was coming – freezing and windy, frost clawing its way through the evergreen landscape. Now, with the sun slowly setting on the horizon, Zed shivered, relieved to recognize the main road leading to the former Kinkou temple that had been desecrated by the Shadow Order. It wasn’t far from here – perhaps half an hour before he could relieve himself of the heavy armor and layers of cloth.

Zed squinted, narrowing his eyes. In the distance, a silhouette emerged from the dawn – a cart or carriage perhaps, somebody travelling on the road. He couldn’t quite put his finger on the sudden shiver – a raven cawed, an ominous foreboding of what was to come. Something was wrong and Zed had learned to trust his instincts, fitting his mask back over his face, the cold steel making him shudder briefly. He felt his shurikans through his gloved hands, tightening his grip around them, ready to strike should a shadow emerge from anywhere – but all stayed silent, almost eerily so as he closed in on the distant cart.

He discovered the first clue before he reached the scene, on the ground. Frowning, Zed kneeled down on the dirt road to examine the leather like sheet that lay coiled up like snakeskin. Dark splotches of color formed familiar patterns, although his mind refused to make sense of what he was seeing. The patterns – subconsciously, he ran his hand over his upper arm, tracing the inked drawings through the fabric and armor.

“What the hell?” Zed muttered and removed his mask – it impaired his vision at a close distance. He regretted it when he tasted a familiar scent on his lips and tongue. The overwhelming smell of coppery blood as well as a sickeningly sweet, floral hint. Splotches of blood fanned out on the object he was holding – that he now realized was skin. Human skin. Zed dropped it as if it was seething hot, tasting bile in the back of his throat. It was a trail of skin shreds, each with the prominent tattoo markings that lead him to a cart resting on the side, where a fourth wheel was missing. The scene was horrific. One that Zed had never wanted – and never been prepared to see again.

Draped on its side in an almost casual position lay the first body – small, lanky, with glossy eyes widened in horror. The flowers left no question as to who had committed the horrible murders – protruding from each orifice, most prominently from the chest cavity. Long, golden and thorned tendrils wound their way around the corpse, flowers blossoming from the stems. Instinctively, he reached out, albeit it hesitant, gloved finger coming into contact with the illusion, shattering it into pieces. What was left wasn’t an artfully decorated canvas, it was a mutilated body with a slit throat, flies starting to crawl into every opening they could find to lay their eggs. Zed gagged, clambering to his feet, stepping backwards until he stumbled over another body. No. No! A stocky body, this time, he had already broken the lie by the time he turned to kneel down. The corpse was skinned, the flesh buzzing with insects. Zed discovered three more corpses – all of his own, two skinned, everybody’s face contorted in a pained grimace. Something struck Zed as odd, as off and he quickly came to realize what it was when he bent over the fifth corpse. He was short, his hands those of a young man – but his face was a familiar one. Older and grim, the characteristic scar stretching from cheekbone to chin. One of Zed’s closest advisors – a trusted member of the Shadow Order, somebody he had even considered a friend. But it didn’t match. Why didn’t it match? Zed reached out, with trembling hands, brushing over his face. Realization dawned when it shifted, it moved – it was nothing more than a mask. A sheet of skin that had once sat upon a different person’s visage before Khada Jhin had turned it into macabre art, a domino, a puzzle of faces. None of them matched, Zed realized – the golden demon had even denied him the peace of closing his allies’ eyes.

He couldn’t be back. He was locked up in a prison cell, never to be released – yet there was little doubt. Zed shivered, his face had long since gone an ashen shade of grey. He closed his eyes as if it would all be gone when he opened them again – as if it were a nightmare. But it wasn’t and no matter how hard he tried, the stench of blood and decaying flesh wasn’t to be ignored. Jhin saw art in his work, but it was little more than a massacre, a bloody mess – footprints leading off to the distance, some weapons strain on the ground. They had put up a fight, surely – they hadn’t surrendered to an inevitable fate.

Five. Why were there five corpses? Were there more at the temple?

Zed swallowed thickly, climbing onto his feet from the kneeling position, staggering and holding onto one side of the cart for support. He frowned, narrowing his eyes – dark spots he hadn’t previously noticed against the wood. The blood had dried already and feathered, but it was clearly letters – he backed away to discover a sentence. “I’m waiting,” Zed mouthed the words painted with dark red, gruesome calligraphy. He exhaled sharply, gaze cast one last time on the macabre massacre Jhin had left behind, before he fled the scene and scrambled away, off of the street and into the adjourning patch of forest.

Zed came to an abrupt halt, cowering down on the ground, one hand holding his upper body upright. He closed his eyes, feeling his heart pound against his ribcage at a sickening pace, breaths coming in short, rapid succession, blood rushing in his ears. He doubled over to vomit until he was sure he was going to faint. Black spots rimmed his vision and he rolled onto his back, staring into the darkening sky. His hair was wet with sweat in spite of the rapidly cooling temperature, his lips stained with bile, but that was little in comparison to what he had witnessed on the dirt road leading to the temple of his Order. Khada Jhin was like a curse – he didn’t seem to be able to escape the iron grip the artist had on his life. He had thought he had done so twice before – once in his youth and then nineteen years later. Zed shouldn’t have shown him the mercy of survival – his students had paid for his reluctance and loyalty to Shen with their lives.

Five. Zed realized what had been bothering him in the back of his mind – a thought that made him rise to his feet, albeit shakily, leaning against a tree to fight for his balance. Jhin would never disrupt his obsession with the number four – so there would be more murders. His temple. He needed to reach it as quickly as possible, heading through the forest instead of the main road, mask pressed against his face, weapons at the ready.

[charmedglass]

                  { Into the Skin. }

    Oooo. It’s almost three in the morning. oops. Well uh, remember when I said I was going to give Avros more tattoos and design Reed’s? Yeaahhh. No. That didn’t happened. Instead, I spent the past few day’s working on a back tattoo design for my Robyn! I love, love, love how it came out. This is specifically for my Robyn Hill, as it incorporates some key points of her character. ( I do have something for her upper arm, but I can’t get it to work with me, so that’s a work in progress and may be scrapped. Maybe. )

                               Close up under the read more. As I anticipate the sketchy feel being ruined with tumblr quality and all that. 

                       Since I’m under cut I can ramble a little more. My shading isn’t great, especially as far as tattoos on skin go. However, the twin white lined flowers are placed over her scars where her wings were forcibly removed, surrounded by grey, white and black flames. You can better see the hint of scarring near the underneath of the bow tips. 

                                    It wasn’t to hide the scars or anything, was more of a way to reclaim her body and sense of self after having her body be ripped from a part of itself. Flowers blooming where something else had been stolen/died. Symbolic thing.

                                    Much like the bow and arrow in the center between the white inked flowers! ( Yup, those were also left purposefully uncolored. ) If you noticed, it’s a gray arrow too. Robyn swore to try and not let the world, and what happened to her, make her cruel. Make her want to hurt those around her. It was the truth of the world, that faunus and human alike would use others as stepping stones to advance. It was a show that the truth was not always about being right or wrong. 

                        Thus it also counts as a promise towards herself. No matter what she goes through, what obstacles come her way, Robyn’s aim is true and unwavering. She will make certain that, even with all the good and ugly truths of the world, she can help make it better, starting with Mantle. 

                           Robyn knows realistically, that trying to change the entire world is an impossible feat for one person. But if she can better Mantle, gain a step there, lead and inspire, then it won’t just be one person anymore. 

                                 So there we have it! The tattoos aren’t super cleaned up, and the drawing is overall sketchy, but I had to get this from my head to the art.

[shackleschains]

What happened? - Chapter Five (1,382 words)

+++++++++++++++++++

It had been two days since Charles and Paris' last meal together. Since then, they had spent plenty of time in each other's company. Charles and Teddy invited her to watch a movie with them, Charles invited her on his morning walks, and the four of them (even J.J.), had a game night. Charles was having so much fun that he forgot Kiara was coming home today.

××××××××××××

Charles had his long hair in a ponytail, his white buttoned down shirt had its sleeves rolled up to reveal his massive arms (and busy tattoos), and his green-ish pants looked lovely compared with the rest of his outfit. In Asalia, the weather wasn't humid but it never snowed. The weather always stayed just below a hundred. The breeze was never strong and the tides were never angry. It truly was the perfect place (especially with its beautiful waterfalls).

He and Paris were on a walk through the kingdom, listening to the birds, talking about shapes in the clouds, not a care in the world. Suddenly a bunch of children ran past them. Cute little girls in pretty dresses and dance shoes with little boys in their best clothes. Charles gave Paris a dashing smile and she instantly nodded in agreement.

They ran after the children. Soon enough, a soft flute could be heard. It didn't take Charles long to realize that it was his sister playing in the town square. She was sitting Indian style, the squirls and birds surrounding her. Soon followed by young children. The children began to dance playfully to the music.

Charles shrugged to Paris and held his hand out for her to take. She did and blushed gracefully as his hand touched hers. They both knew she wasn't as good at this kind of stuff as he was, but it was all in the name of fun. She wrapped her arms around him as they danced in a circle along with the children. It was quite fun. Soon enough, almost the entire town was there. Some were dancing, some were clapping and cheering on, some were painting the events around them or writing what they saw. Either way, the entire town was celebrating the beautiful day.

Theodora, like her older brother, is quite good at playing instruments. Her specialty was brass and wind. The first she ever played was a saxophone when she was four years old. This was around the age Charles was when their parents started teaching him the piano (the guitar wasn't until a year later).

Teddy would spend most of her free time in the town square playing for the people. Mainly the children. It was a different instrument and different song each day. Every time she did, the people would gather round and have fun.

After half of half an hour of dancing, Charles and Paris excused themselves from the dancing crowd to continue their walk. It would be so much more interesting with the people out as well. As they walked they saw several interesting people. The first they spotted were little girls braiding flowers together to make jewelry. As they walked past, the tallest of the group handed a daisy crown to Charles. He thanked her kindly before slipping her a twenty. She was so shocked she didn't know what to do. He was always very generous with his money. He was raised not to overprice materialistic items.

Charles placed the crown on Paris' head before they continued walking. Next, they saw little boys playing soccer on the rolling hills that lined the forest side. As Charles and Paris passed, one of the little boys kicked the ball to Charles. Charles happily played along. He passed the ball to the next kid after pulling off a trick so bad ass, I couldn't describe it. Paris loved watching how he was with kids. He was so gentle and compassionate. Why did she have to feel like this?

When they got back to the palace, Kiara was waiting for her fiance with open arms. He had barely entered the grand hall before her arms were around him. Her faded white and orange two piece stood out against her deep black skin and fiery red hair. The tube top and lacey skirt look as always. As she removed herself from around him, she thought nothing at all of their arrival together.

"Oh, Charles darling, we have so much to plan for! Only one full month away from our wedding! Darling aren’t you excited?!" She spoke quickly with her overbearing happiness. She spoke so fast that you could barely realize that English was her second language. He couldn't help but smile at how cute she was when she did that.

Paris felt tears pricked her eyes as she saw how he was looking at Kiara. She knew then that she was right about him needing her. Paris wiped away her tears before anyone noticed she had moved at all.

Charles hesitated before moving his arms around her waist. She hugged him back and snuggled her head into his chest as he rested his head on hers. Paris left quietly and quickly after that.

××××××××××××××××××××

That night, Charles was sitting on his windowsill, watching the stars. It was a circular window with no class. He had one leg draped over the edge and one to keep him from falling. Kiara was in the connected bathroom changing into her night attire.

Kiara walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She didn't know what was wrong with him. He was usually so happy and energetic. He placed his hand on top of hers and turned around to face her. She looked stunning. Her dreadlock-like hair was braided, his white t-shirt hung from her shoulders, and a pair of black shorts were barely visible beneath the too big shirt.

He placed his hand on her cheek before running it up to her eyebrow. Kiara was a descendant of ancient martians. This is why her eyebrows ran into her hairline. Charles loved rubbing her eyebrows before gently kissing her nose. Her hair was thick because of her genetic origins. All the dust and dirt on mars made her ancestors have very thick dreadlocks.

Over the years, some of the marshon had been bred out of her family, but not much. She still had the exotic curve to the legs that only martians had, hers was just harder to notice. Her eyebrows still connected with her hairline, but her hair was cleaner and easier to manage. Though her skin was dark brown from the African heat, that was one of the only non marshan things about her, except her skull shape of course.

She smiled at him and kissed him back.

"I'm glad I met you." She said with a smile.

Charles gave her a kiss on the lips. She giggled before dragging him by his large arms over to the bed. After they got situated (her snuggled into his chest as he held her), he began to read to her. It was her favorite book.

[bellamyblake]

Bellarke + things Bellamy said when he was high on painkillers:

She finds him buried under a pile of blankets, mumbling something under his nose and the minute she enters the room and sees him like this it makes her smile.

He was brought in a few days back after a hunting trip gone really wrong where he slipped down a very steep hill and broke his left leg in three places.

And a few of his ribs.

Also sprained his wrist.

And split his head open.

He was in a lot of pain and he refused taking painkillers on account that they didn’t have that much left and he could deal with the pain. 

But he had become a grumpy annoyed at everything mess and the times when she wasn’t mad at him for snapping, she was feeling sorry for finding him writhing in bed, sweating and quietly cursing.

But now her mom had finally had enough of him and with the help of Miller and Octavia who held him down, she finally stuck the needle into his neck much to his initial disapproval.

The thing Clarke didn’t know is that Bellamy on drugs was a five year old child. 

“Hey, old man” she had greeted him as she sat and pulled the blankets down to find him smiling to himself and giving her a loving look the minute he saw her there.

“Clarkeyyyy”

Actually, maybe three year old, now that Clarke thinks about it. 

“How are you doing, Bell?” she removes a stubborn curl from his forehead and leans down to kiss his cheek which makes him squirm in delight. 

He got really cuddly when he was sick. Needed her constant and much demanded attention.

“Missed you.” he mumbles and much like a cat, grabs her hand and puts it back on his head. She tries to stifle a chuckle but keeps running her fingers through his hair.

“Are you in pain?” she asks casually and he shakes his head as he keeps burying his nose in her fingers and moving to the right corner of the bed as much as he can with his broken body.

“Your mom gave me the nice drugs.” he whispers and pulls the blanket off “Come ‘ere” he slurred the words and she feels her heart burst at his fond expression.

“Can’t, Bell. I got a meeting with Raven and Monty to talk about wiring the fence again.”

“No!” suddenly he’s panicking and she furrows her eyebrows confused when he catches her wrist and starts pulling her down “You just came. They can wait.”

“Bellamy...”

“I’m hurt” and that’s how she’s sure that the painkillers are working. She has never heard him utter those words out. It’s always been “I’m fine” or “It’s nothing” even when they had brought him home and carried him inside on a stretcher, bleeding out. 

“My uh...” he stutters when he realizes what he’d just said out loud “My knee hurts a bit.”

“I thought everything was fine?” she raises an eyebrow but at the puppy eyes he gives her she has pretty much relented. “Fine...fifteen minutes.” 

He beams. Literally beams. 

It makes her wonder if that’s what he must’ve looked like when he was a little boy. Did his mom’s heart clench the same way when he looked at her like that? 

She lays down next to him and he quickly buries himself in her. She ends up holding him, pulling his head to her chest and running it through his hair like before. At some point a relief sigh escapes his lips.

“You like that?”

“Mhm” he buries his nose in her chest and wraps his good arm over her wrist, trying to pull her closer. “You’re so soft...”

“Oh I am?”

“And you smell so nice.”

“Well thank you for the compliment, Bellamy.” she likes this. 

Holding him close, his breath fanning her neck, his heart beat finally strong again, the small smile of his lips. Usually it was him who held her, he who made sure she was fine, he who cradled her in his arms and she was happy to return the favor at last.

“Can’t wait to marry you so we can do this every day.” the words make her freeze and she looks down at him completely stunned but all he does is bury his head even closer and furrow his eyebrows because she stopped her movements. 

She clears her throat nervously and feels herself blush.

Sure, they’ve been living peacefully for the last three years and she had been sharing a cabin with him for a few months now but she never thought she’d hear him utter those exact words.

“Uh...sure, I uh...guess we can do that.” she says with a smile and when he shoves his nose in her hand, demanding that she keeps stroking him she continues her movements.

“That’s unless you don’t want to marry me?” he looks up at her and his eyes are so wide she can see her reflection in them. “You don’t have to if you hate me but I got a nice ring and all.”

“Ring?”

“And if you don’t want a ring that’s okay too!” he pulls away suddenly freaked out by her stunned reaction. He looks so scared, she wants to hug him again but his arm is looped around her waist and he keeps moving so he could face her .

“We can get matching tattoos or,or we can tie a leather bracelet around our wrists, or...or we can uh..we don’t have to have anything. It can be a small thing. I was thinking maybe down by the river since you like it so much. I’d gather the flowers for your hair, those small purple ones you love and you don’t have to put on a dress or anything, unless you want to, I was thinking of exchanging my boots for this green one I saw on the Polis fair and I guess I can find a decent shirt or just that blue t-shirt you love-”

She leans down and interrupts him with a kiss, her heart bursting at the thought of how much he’s been wondering and thinking about them like this, her eyes filling with tears because of how much love they had for each other. 

When they finally pull away she’s cupping his face and he’s staring at her with the fondest, softest smile on his face.

“Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

“Bellamy, you’re high!” she laughs and pulls another curl away from his cheek this time.

“Still mean it!” he waits with fear until she finally nods “Yeah....yeah I will marry you.”

He smiles and pulls her close again. She holds him and runs her hand on his back until he starts drifting off.

“So soft...” he mumbles before his mouth falls open and he drools on her chest while all she can think about is how much she can’t wait to spend the rest of her life with him. 

[gloomshrike]

Rovhathel

Raharen dismounted his gryphon by the lake, prompting him to drink up. 

“It’s going to be a quick turnaround. I promise you can rest once we’re back in the city.”

The gryphon bowed his head and drank deeply from the lake, as Raharen moved towards Quel’danil lodge. Please still be here, he thought to himself, as he briskly jogged into the highvale settlement. 

“AHA! I knew that were Thorondir flyin’ inta the lodge, an’ no even a hello to be found, ye bastard!”

Raharen halted his gait and turned around just in time to be jump-headbutted by a heavily tattooed dwarf. The half-elf recoiled, and rubbed his forehead, and the dwarf gave a hearty laugh.

“Holy hell,” Raharen replied, still rubbing his head and looking down at the dwarf, “Taknark Featherbeard. It really is the end of the fucking world.”

Taknark roared with laughter. He was tattooed from head to waist, and likely beyond, were his delicates not covered with a chainmail war-kilt. He wore two stone maces at his side, and his braided, fire-red beard was nearly as long as his height. He straightened out his mohawk where the headbutt had disheveled it. 

“Raharen. Have nae seen hide nor hair o ya in some time. I missed ya somethin’ sore, ya know.”

Raharen sighed. “I’ve missed you too. Every time I’ve meant to visit the Peak I’ve just been caught up in something. Glad to see time refuses to change you.” He smiled.

Taknark’s face sterned for a moment. “Ne’er mind that, now. Ya been ta the capital?”

Raharen nodded, his face solemn again. “I just flew from there. And Icecrown before that.”

Taknark huffed. “Aye, tis true then. I been meanin’ to go ta Ironforge ta check in but the Peak’s in a right state. Been ordered ta keep watch o’er the Hinterlands, from there ta Stormfeather.”

“It’s a sound plan. We have no idea how bad this is going to get, or how far it’ll stretch. I’m actually here to pick up my old armor, and tabard, if the armory still has it. I’ll then be returning to Stormwind to mount a defense.”

Taknark spat on the ground. “Pah. Highvale elves would ne’er throw somethin’ like that away. I’d come with ya ta tease the smithy, but there’s someone else in there ya might want ta talk to. Where’s yer bird? I’m gonna go make sure ya have nae been feedin’ him crap the last few years.”

Raharen gave Taknark a puzzled look. “He’s at the lake to the east, running distance.”

The dwarf nodded. “Aye. See ya before ya go, then.” He trotted off back to his own gryphon, and flew off in the lake’s direction. Raharen turned back towards the lodge and walked inside, taking a look around, until he found what Taknark had been talking about. At a table outside, glass of wine in hand, was a high elf in casual silks, with his feet propped up on the opposite chair, reading a book.

“Redridge finally kicked you out?” Raharen asked, and the high elf looked at him over the brim of his book.

“No, but there are ghouls there now.” The man replied dryly.

“Not going to help beat them back?” Raharen asked, knowing the answer.

Gloomshrike took his feet off of the other chair and motioned for his son to sit down. “Nope. I came straight to the lodge, filled a cup of wine, and I’m going to wait for this whole thing to blow over.”

Raharen took a small book out from his pack and put it on the table. “It’s not going to blow over.”

Gloomshrike raised an eyebrow and motioned to the seat again. “Then you’ve got plenty of time to chat?” He took notice of the book and his eyes widened. “Ahh, you finished it! Well, what’d you think?”

Raharen looked around the lodge. “It was good. A lot of floral imagery, you should mix it up a little for the next one. Where’s the smith?”

Gloomshrike scoffed. “No idea. And you’re worse than Tysten. Flowers are pretty, why wouldn’t I write about them?” 

Raharen shrugged. “I don’t know. And you haven’t seen the smith all day? Is the armory open?”

Gloomshrike rolled his eyes, “Maybe. I don’t know what your hurry is. Just sit for a second and have a chat.”

Raharen furrowed his brow. “I have to get back to Stormwind. I don’t have time to chat.”

Gloomshrike stood up and hummed, moving towards the armory as Raharen followed. “I thought you gave up the grandiose causes after the Third War.”

Raharen gave an irritated sound. “Yeah, well, I might have to fight it again.”

Gloomshrike sighed, and the pair moved in silence towards the armory doors. The lodge was tense, and guards were leaving the armory with freshly sharpened weapons.

“Don’t fret.” Gloomshrike said, nonchalantly. “Everyone’s preparing for the worst. We’re close to the plaguelands.”

“I’m not fretting.” Raharen replied. “You’re not easy to kill.”

Gloomshrike feigned a pout. “Not a single worry? For the well-being of your old man? What if I were to perish in a horrific night raid?”

Raharen gave an irritated look. “Then come back to Stormwind with me, and I’ll keep you safe.”

Gloomshrike laughed, the leftover wine in his glass sloshing around with the motion. “That’s funny in so many ways. You really should write.”

The pair reached the armory, and Gloomshrike gave a knowing nod to the overworked smith. He moved to a section in the far back left corner and motioned to a large, dusty trunk. “There you go, kiddo.”

Raharen rushed over and popped the trunk open, removing pieces of silversteel plate from the trunk, as Gloomshrike walked off. The armor pieces were of elven make, and high quality. On the shoulders, the same symbol of a gryphon which adorned Raharen’s waistcloth had been carefully carved into the metal. Raharen pulled off the aging, dented brass armor he had been wearing and placed it in the trunk, and set to work equipping the old, now new, armaments.

Gloomshrike walked back from the cupboard holding a long item, wrapped in an embroidered cloth, and as Raharen finished fastening the last clasps on his armor, offered it to him.

Raharen regarded the item with wide, cautious eyes. “You… you kept it?” He asked.

Gloomshrike nodded. “Your mother had this commissioned when you enlisted with the crusade. I wouldn’t part with it. I’m not sure I ever forgave you for doing so, either.”

Raharen tugged the cloth off of the broadsword. Its handle was treated and wrapped leather, dyed a dull blue as it led to the hilt, which was white gold carved into the silhouette of a bird. The same gold adorned the pommel in the form of a large counterweight. The metal was inlaid with blue stone, where it flexed against its sheath. Raharen grabbed the handle, and pulled it from the scabbard.

Thin, gold lines ran from the blue, up to the point of the blade. Inside these lines was the thickest, heaviest part of the blade, and extending outside of them were the two sharp edges. The lines formed a triangular setting just beneath the point of the blade, where a single sapphire sat.

“Rovhathel.” Raharen barely uttered the word, almost simply mouthing it. 

“Wingblade.” Gloomshrike echoed Raharen with the name’s translation. “Still suits you.”

Raharen returned the blade to its sheath and strapped it onto his back. “Thank you.”

Gloomshrike let out a single chuckle. “It never should have left you. Well, if you can’t sit for a drink and a chat, you’d best get going. I’ll meet you outside.”

Raharen nodded and left the armory. Gloomshrike closed the trunk and walked back over to the cupboard, where an elven bow hung above a leather quiver. His eyes lingered for a moment, and he shut the door.

Raharen waited patiently as Gloomshrike left the armory, his glass now empty. “So then, what should I write about this time if it’s not flowers, Lord Critic?”

Raharen offered a soft smile. “A lot of things are pretty. Write about history, or the human spirit or something.”

“Boring.” Gloomshrike shook his head, then met Raharen’s gaze again. “Don’t die.”

Raharen nodded. “I don’t plan on it.”

The pair walked back to Gloomshrike’s seat, which he took once more. “The world’s getting nastier by the minute, Raharen. I hope you can save it this time.” He said dryly, filling another glass.

Raharen’s eyes drifted off to the ground. “Take care of yourself, Dad.” And he walked out of the lodge.

Taknark was waiting just down the hill, with Thorondir and Gwaihir behind him. “O, now there’s the ol’ crusader I hunted ghouls with, eh?”

Raharen chuckled, and hung his bags from Thorondir’s saddle again. “Well, hopefully I leave some for you.”

Taknark gave a serious nod. “I’ll be out there meself before ya know. Stay. Alive. Y’hear?”

Raharen kneeled down to the dwarf’s height, and they headbutted again. “Be safe, Taknark. I’ll listen for the thunder.”

Taknark grinned, and Raharen mounted his gryphon and flew off south again.

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

As Raharen flew over the mountains that preceded the Thandol Span, he heard a deafening screech from above. He turned his head to see a young frostwyrm bearing down on him. He yanked his reins, and Thorondir dove towards the mountain as the skeletal wyrm gave chase. He pulled the reins again and his gryphon swooped, halting their descent and carrying them upwards. As the frostwyrm spread its wings to slow its own fall, Raharen hurled a spear of crackling Light, severing its left wing at the joint. The wyrm roared, and breathed a torrent of cold, necrotic magic at him. Thorondir avoided the attack, and dove towards the frostwyrm. Raharen dismounted as they flew over the dragon’s hard landing, and pulled Rovhathel from its sheath. The blade hummed to life at his touch, and Raharen brought it down on the construct’s neck.

The wyrm unleashed an eldritch screech as its head struggled to stay attached, and Raharen’s hands glowed as he poured a beam of fiery Light into the creature. The screeching stopped, and the rest of its twice-killed corpse began to fall apart into ash. 

That’ll take care of the rust. Raharen mused, as he caught his breath, mounted up again and continued his flight.

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

Gloomshrike tapped his chin, staring down at the blank page of the book in front of him.

The human spirit. The human spirit? Human spirits… spirits… He amused himself with the wordplay as he poured another glass of wine. He kicked his feet back and watched the clear skies over Quel’danil.

His eyes widened, and he took his feet off of the chair, and snatched up his quill.

In sickened, stagnant waters still

In darkness even Death forbade

Is life and light and unwavered will

On winged beast and winged blade

[phrynewrites]

hello it is me nessie in ur asks unprompted Again however: for the fic name scyvie in 'kiss me on my open mouth'?

hi girlie! thanks for the ask!!

This one was super tricky and I messed around with a few ideas like could this be a tattoo artist/flower shop owner au? Or a writer au? A soulmate au? But now I’ve landed on a politician/reporter au: 

Yvie is a congresswoman and Scarlet is a reporter, looking to finally break a story big enough to launch her career into national news. So she’s in her office, doing some mundane research task her boss assigned her, when she stumbles upon something odd in congresswoman Bridges’ records. Against her boss’s wishes, Scarlet pursues this lead, hoping she can finally land a big story, or better yet, find a scandal to break to the public. She’s hungry for a story, digging deeper into Yvie’s past, her campaign, her voting record, her personal life, finally striking on something. However, it’s not enough to publish a full article, so Scarlet decides to steal a press pass from her boss and sneak into Capital Hill, hoping to talk with the congresswoman and eventually get her to spill the information

However, Scarlet wasn’t planning on finding Yvie so entirely charming, making it difficult to stay on task and gather her information. And Yvie’s charmed as well, and glad to have a break from talking with colleagues, even if it means talking to this lovely reporter lady. 

Scarlet senses this attraction and decides her best course of action, especially because her boss will eventually become suspicious of the missing press pass, is to pursue a personal relationship with the congresswoman. So the two begin their affair, Scarlet often finding herself at her home, having dinner together, staying the night. This continues for months, nearly a year, and Scarlet’s too busy enjoying this very real feeling relationship they’ve established to worry about how little progress she’s made toward her story. 

That is, until one night, as they’re lying in bed together, Yvie confides in Scarlet about the secret report she’s been compiling, with aid from other countries within the UN, which will effectively put the president, vice president, and a majority of his cabinet on trial for (insert some kind of bad, illegal thing here), which would likely either result in their removal from their offices, or her own removal from congress, should the president spin her as traitorous. 

Now that Scarlet’s finally got her story, and finds that Yvie’s actually not the one producing the scandal, but rather trying to shed light on a scandal, to right a wrong, Scarlet finds herself torn and in dire need of a new plan. She’s finding it especially hard to throw this woman, who’s only trying to do good, who could find herself in the crossfire if this is not played very carefully, whom she may even love, under the bus just to advance her own career. 

With much contemplation, they decide to work together to release this report, with Scarlet managing the press side of the scandal, supplementing the report with her own research, making it seem as though she broke it on her own, while Yvie acts as though she had just heard about it, detaches herself from the report, and reattaches herself as the person bringing it to congress, seeking a vote to hold trials regarding the contents of the report. The two act as though they hadn’t planned this scheme all along — Scarlet getting her national story, releasing the reporting, and Yvie pushing along the congressional proceedings, the two keeping their distance and putting their relationship on the back burner, showing no signs of being together, should the exceptional conflict of interest come up. In this time, the two partake in a few clandestine visits with one another, under the cover of darkness, far away from D.C, in a dingy motel room two hundred miles away, wrapped up in one another, watching it all burn, basking in the afterglow of political power, reveling in the knowledge that they’ll both grow more powerful in their careers, and when this all blows over, will be able love one another as they’d like to

[cutmyhairabovemyjaw]

Heaven and Hell Bound - Tommy Shelby ~ Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Thank you guys so much for commenting and liking. Part 4 on it’s way and it’s filled with cuteness. <3 Feedback is always welcome!

Part 3 - Look After Me

Y/N POV

Tommy and I have been writing each other for a few months now. I learnt all about his family and his business back in Small Heath. He sent me sketches of his brothers and of a wonderful little flower that had grown despite all the despair which surrounded it. At his request, I, rather reluctantly I must say, sent him a photograph of myself. As soon as the notion was brought up I could feel myself reeling back as insecurities fill my mind. But how could I resist such a dreamy writer:

Whilst your words and the hint of perfume that comes with every letter brings a breath of heavenly air, I find myself wishing for something more. Dare I ask that you send a photograph of yourself. And before you protest I do not care if it's old or embarrassing or your hair looked funny, I need to see my pretty girls face. And Arthur has been insistently begging to find out what you look like. However, I fear they may have to pry the photo out of my cold dead hands before I let anyone else have it. Write to me soon please Y/N. It gets more miserable out here as each day passes. I’ll meet you in our dreams tonight. 

Sincerely,

Your Tommy. 

Your Tommy and Your Y/N. That’s how we had begun signing our letters. It was an indication that we belonged to us, and not to the war. I only agreed to send a photograph if one of him would be returned. It was him in his uniform, hair brushed back, the curves and contours of his face like a frame to the most gorgeous painting. The beautiful picture sits with me in the pocket of my dress everyday. Cherished and perfect do no justice to describe the levels of beauty this photo contains. I don’t know why Tommy and I have connected like this. Perhaps it’s the being away from home, perhaps it’s the war, perhaps it’s the fact that this was the first man to have any interest in me. Whatever it was, it was nice, really nice. 

Outside of this heavenly escape is the very real horrors of the hospital. Patients come and go, blood pours, screams fade into the dirt, but we keep pushing on. Just let one more mother be reunited with their son. 

“Y/N!” My name was called, like it always was when a particularly bad patient arrived. I postponed my rounds and quickly ran to the emergency bed, scrubbing up with what I can as the soldier is carried in, his pained moans and short, shallow breathing swelling in volume. “Briefing!”I yelled to the nurses that guided him in. “Gunshot wound to upper chest, head trauma, erratic heartbeat and breathing pattern.” Whilst he was placed down on the bed I turned away, telling the nurses what will be required. “Is that understood?”, they nod and proceed to collect said items. I begin to turn around to the patient, “Ok, now what’s your name sol-”, I freeze. No, please no. My gaze had met those most beautiful blue eyes once again. “T-Tommy?” I ask, hoping that my eyes may be lying to me. He looks at me with drowsy, pain-filled eyes. “Y/N? What are -” he interrupts himself with a pained groan, squeezing his eyelids shut and gritting his teeth.  Instinctively, I place one hand on his trembling shoulder and the other on his cheek. “Tommy, hey Tom, Tom, look at me”, I say gently, trying to hide the panic in my voice and the shaking of my hands. His eyes are frantic, trying to find some relief from the fire that coursed through his veins. “Fuck! Fuck!”, he yells in pain as one of the nurses begins to clean his bullet wound, tears cascading down his mud-covered cheeks. I look to the other nurses, we all knew what would happen if Thomas couldn’t calm down. Rosaline must have made her way towards the bed after hearing the commotion, seeing as she had now placed her hand on my shoulder. We nod at each other, a new surge of hope and devotion filling my bones. I place both my hands on Tommy’s tear-stained cheeks, tenderly turning his face to mine. Now all I can see is Tommy’s face, and all he can see is mine. The noises of the hospital fade as our eyes meet, just like they did when we first met. “Hey Pretty Boy. Shhh, it’s going to be ok. Hey? It’s going to be ok I promise. Pinky promise.” He starts to calm down as he focuses on the colour of my eyes and the movement of my lips. I nod to the other nurses, silently asking them to continue treatment. It was now my job to distract Thomas until the procedures were over, or at least until he passes out. “Tom, could you tell me about your horses again?” I ask, lightly nodding to him whilst my thumb caresses his cheek. “There’s one that reminds me of you” he manages to get out. “Oh yeah? How so?” I continue, a smile etching its way onto my face. He slowly lifts up one of his hands, twirling some of my hair between his calloused fingers. “Same coloured hair”, his fingers move to my cheek, “Soft and pretty, with the most beautiful eyes”. I notice the nurses are nearly finished with everything, except the worst was still yet to come. “Well I can’t wait to see her for myself then hey?” I take a deep breath in, preparing myself for the ordeal that was to come. “Tommy, there’s one more thing we have to do ok? It’s going to really hurt. But, I’ll be right here.” He looks to me, scared and fragile. “Just please help me”, he breathes out, closing his eyes. I make my way to the tray of equipment, preparing what I need to remove the bullet and restore any internal and external damage. Tommy’s screams burned into my ears. Tears filled my eyes, but now was not the time to get emotional, I had a soldier to help. I thought of the family he left behind in Small Heath, and of his brothers which work below in the tunnels. I knew I had to do it for them. 

Thomas had passed out not soon after I had retrieved the bullet. He looked so calm, at peace, beautiful. As I was stitching him up I took in every detail of his still body. He was muscular and toned, a tattoo resting upon his skin alongside too many a scar that littered his torso and arms. I pulled the blanket over him, praying that he gets the rest he deserved. I steal one last look at Tommy before reluctantly turning away.

With a cigarette already in my mouth I head to my spot on the hill, desperate for some kind of quiet. I practically fall to the ground, exhaustion defeating my muscles. “Big day huh?” I hear Rosaline ask from behind me, matches in her hand, ready to light my cigarette. We sit in silence, staring out at the setting sun, hazed over with the smoke which escapes from our lips. “Fucking hell Ro. That’s Tommy in there”, I try to convey my bewilderment. “He could have fucking died and could have either watched it happen or never even known about it.” I continue to take long drags of my cigarette, an attempt to calm my deliriously emotional mind. “Y/N the way he looked at you, you’ve only been talking for a few months now but he looks at you like you’re an angel”, she sighs, a hint of jealousy poisoning her otherwise compassionate observation. I look to her with tired eyes, “Ro, come off it now. You know that Edward, myself, and practically everything that breathes looks at you that way”. I reach to grab her hand, too tired to find any more voice. “Sorry Y/N, I just miss him... At least you and Tommy will be able to have a few days together”, she says, an apologetic tone lacing her words.  A smile broke out on my face with this realisation. A blush made its way across my skin. My mind had wandered to happier places, places with Tommy. Never had I been nervous to spend time with a patient. But then again this wasn’t any old soldier. Whilst I danced in the fields my daydreams created, I hadn’t noticed the flame on my cigarette inching ever closer to my fingers as it’s length dwindled as time went by. That was until a scorching pain seared over my fingers, burning the skin which once held it. I dropped it instantly, inhaling through my gritted teeth. 

I hope that Tommy Shelby does not burn me the same.

[kangaroo-writes-trash]

“Mönkhgal”

The rolling hills and awe-inspiring mountains of her homeland, the beautiful sea of orange and red, the flowers she always adored covering the ground for miles in all directions. The warmth of the sun bouncing of his skin, stood in the same spot he stood last year. His soft black hair weaved beautifully into a braid falling down to his waist, colourfully adorned with flowers of all shades, as is the wooden staff held in his grip, vines encasing his hand. The out of place suit that always gleans a glance from her people is worn comfortably, his tie hanging loose around his neck. He can't lie and say that the looks aren't fun.

His hand gently drags across the landscape in front of him, the flowers adorning his staff's grow more vibrant, impossibly so. A hint of acknowledgement awakens in his mind, as the roots curl and twist and react to accommodate another hand, despite the fact that no visible hand accepts the offer. Glimpses of white peek through the near solid colour of the fields, a second presence pokes inward; soft purring, and the joy of wind passing through their fur. He take a step forward, too finding comfort in the air against his skin. Another step, and in his wake lay flowers, already grown, blooming more lively than the last.

"They want me to join them on their hunting trip." He says openly into the air, the words carried away by a gentle wind as his braid sways. No voice offers response, yet this doesn't dissuade him. "Your culture fascinates me so." He remembers the wind against his face the very first time he hunted with her tribe. The only comfort that that offered him was the fact that it meant he was hopefully making distance from the herd of buffalo behind him. He always makes time for it.

A third and final presence, a gentle, loving reminder as his heart beats. His steps are careful as they intrude upon the flowers, yet any accidental trampling by his boots seem to cause no harm. They walk slowly, aimlessly moving through and across the land, their eyes taking in the pale sky and vagrant clouds. A glimpse of black prowling through the growth around him, with another hint of movement on the opposite side, but smaller. They'd blend in, if their splotches of black and white fur blended in as well as their orange. He pays the other visitors no mind as he continues, a small whistle leaving his lips as he goes. And, he sings.

Singing, to the open air and sprawling fields of her homeland. Maybe it's because there's nobody around to see him, or, maybe, it's because he's not alone. The language is nothing anyone does, nor will know, yet it's carried elsewhere by the wind, reaching further thanks to it's influence. And without much warning, he begins a gentle dance, more so poised for graceful movements through the flowers, opposed to practised dance. He feels the wind against his body, almost as if it cradled him in his movements.

Memories flood through his blood, of greetings and goodbyes, of protective nights and productive days. Of her elders, and the lessons that they taught him. Confused and worried glances, of feasts he didn't partake, and performances he admired. The customs of her people, to live off the land, but for it as well, all in the same beat. To be accepted among them, to be given a name by her brother. and to watch them all pass through into the next. To learn of their final rites, and to honour them, as best as one man could.

His legs buckle, falling to his knees as tears fall to the flowers and grass and dirt. He weeps, overcome. A lifetime passes before his eyes. Slowly, eventually, the tears quell, and his vision finds a new flower; an edelweiss, growing from the ground. His hands gently cup and remove the flower from the dirt, offering it a new home along his staff, in which it takes root. He stands slowly, grip tightening on his staff to aid him. With a final look over the land, he extends his arm and taps the staff once, softly against the ground.

The wind picks up immediately, threatening to tear the man away, before slowing, and easing. And in the place of his staff, stands a tall oak tree, the autumn leaves already beginning their exodus along the breeze. A breath, before planting his hand firmly against the bark, each and every presence in his mind pressing themselves into the tree in kind. The trunk creaks, and tears, and splits open, revealing a land, a village. Her land. Her village. He's quick to step through, travelling miles in a single step. A glance back, before the tree mends itself back together. Around him, her people. A look or two finds them his way, his presence still gathering attention at times. Comfort finds him once more.

His hand reaches for the staff that isn't there. In that same dead tongue, words are muttered underneath his breath, and within his grip, begins to form a staff. His staff, made of vines and moss, with flowers living among it. A pulse behind his eyes causes him to flinch, his free hand moving to wipe away from a thin stream of blood trailing from his nose. Home, for a time. His attempt to lament once more is interrupted by a man, familiar in so many wonderful ways.

Shorter than him, and still a tad leaner, but standing tall as their position has awarded them. Still uncut as is custom, their ever-impressively long white hair, finely braided and curled around his shoulders twice before hanging down in front of his torso, a blue decoration at it's end. Their own unique staff of wood and crystal is held in their hand, with a strand of red cloth wrapped around it, nearing the top. The colour fitting the rest of his clothes, as mix of white and red colours his shoes, pants, tunic and loose poncho. Their eyes flaunt an individual red and blue, with bright-red tattoos across his cheeks, nose, and forehead.  

He can't help but smile at seeing him. For their own merits and relation, of course, but the resemblance is always noticeable. "Enebii!" He calls out to him with open arms. Her brother. His, as well. "It's good to see you didn't leave without me!"

Enebii offers him a look. "You know we wouldn't have gone without you. Come, Mönkhgal! You're running in front this time."

[daemongal]

The greatest gift

V x reader, angst, SFW.

T.W. mention of thoughts of suicide.

For some reason I have decided to celebrate V's special day with this. Hope you enjoy my first attempt at writing angst :)

___________

Today was V's birthday, and the anniversary of the day you met the tattooed man, a day you would never forget.

You had found him shambling around looking lost and disjointed, completely stark naked. You can’t really remember what went through your mind at that moment. Normally you’d stay as far away as possible from weird men, especially those who were happy enough to put themselves on display, but you remember feeling an intense desire to protect him, the moment you laid eyes on him; a feeling skin to how a mother feels the first time they hold their child in their arms.

You gave him your coat to cover his modesty and established that his name was V. You remember how taken aback he was at your generosity when you welcomed him into your home and how confused he was at your concern for his wellbeing. You fed him, worried that he hadn’t eaten in days considering how frail his body looked. He would always tell you that he was fine, and that his body was just weak.

When everything started going to hell, he was there at your side, protecting you with every ounce of his being. You would tell him repeatedly how strong he was, how brave he was but a look of guilt seemed to forever linger in his eyes. You took refuge with him at the Devil May Cry which remained vacant in a somewhat safer part of town, after its proprietor had fallen at the hands of the Demon King. V told you to leave, to evacuate from the town and stay away, but you couldn’t leave him. You knew you couldn’t protect him, but you still wanted to be there for him. He said you gave him strength, the strength to keep fighting.

He would leave in the mornings, scouting for any survivors, returning just after sunset each day with supplies and stories of his exploits. You would listen to him talk for hours, savouring every note of his voice. Each night you would retreat to bed and hold each other so tight that not even the splitting of the earth could separate you.

It was love, of that much you were sure. You still remember the look of pure disbelief on his face when you told him the first time. He told you he was undeserving, that your love was too good for him, that he was a weak and futile being that could never give you the happiness you truly deserved.

“If only he knew how wrong he was” you thought. You smiled to yourself, pulling yourself out of your daydream as you pressed the buzzer on the bus, signalling it to stop. You stepped down the ramp that had been lowered for you, flashing a smile at the bus driver as you left. You knew you had a bit of a walk to your destination, buses tended to just stick to the main roads these days, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed the memories attached to these tracks.

You knew back then he had secrets, but you told him time and time again that his secrets were his and his alone and that you knew him well enough that anything he kept from you would be for your protection.

You sighed as you walked further up the track. You knew nothing would have changed if you had known, if he had told you the truth. His determination and drive were the features that drew you to him, and you knew nothing would have changed his goal or the outcome. Redgrave was slowly recovering from its loss, and you had a family now. It was chaotic and messy, but Kyrie’s cooking was second to none and Nero was like the brother you never had.

You hadn’t been to visit V in a while, a guilty pang hit your chest at the thought, but your life had become busy as of late and you knew he would understand. You smiled as you were nearing the house on the hill; his family home.

You knew there was something wrong that morning. He had woken you up earlier than usual, a darkness and passion in his eyes deeper than you had ever seen before. You had made love with unrivalled intensity as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, and etched his very presence onto your soul. He told you he would be back by nightfall, as he always was. You didn’t believe him, yet there you stood, at the door giving him his kiss goodbye, waving him off as you always did. The tears began to fall soon after. You remember the door opening that night and the elation you felt. When Nero stepped through the door, bloodied and bruised avoiding any and all eye contact, you dropped to the floor, legs no longer able to bear the despair you felt.

You took a deep breath as you stood at your destination. You put the breaks on the stroller and reached for the flowers resting against the hood. You had decided on white lilies, soft and gentle much like his heart. You placed them on the memorial as you dusted the headstone with your hand, removing any debris. You gently lifted your daughter out of their seat and held her.

“Hey V.” You started, taking a deep breath to still your words. “Sorry it’s been a while, I’ve been pretty preoccupied.” You gazed lovingly towards your daughter. “Isn’t she incredible darling. Born of our love. Your legacy.” You pressed a kiss to her soft head to calm your shaking breath. You promised that you would always be strong for him, and that wasn’t going to change.

“She has your eyes. The nurses said they’d never seen a new born like her; lily white hair and eyes that looked like they’d seen the world five times over. Nero's enamoured with her. Calls himself Uncle Nero, he’s even stopped swearing, said he doesn’t want to be a bad influence, I know, you’d have to see it to believe it. Nico's determined that her first words are going to be dead weight.” You laughed quietly to yourself, fighting back the heat rising in your face and the stinging in the corners of your eyes.

“Still no sign of Dante returning, or Nero's old man. I hope they’re both ok. I’d like to meet him sometime, Virgil that is. Tell him how lucky he is to have such a great son. I don’t think it’ll be long before little Eva has herself a cousin. I’ve seen the way Kyrie looks at him when he holds her.” She held your index finger tightly in her hand as you spoke.

“Oh yeah, I hope you don’t mind, I named her after your mother. You were always at your happiest when you spoke about your childhood and I wanted to picture that smile whenever I looked at her.” You paused for a moment to gather your thoughts .

“I’m so sorry that you weren’t here to... to hold her with... me...” your vision blurred as you felt a familiar warmth on your cheeks, as the tears began to pour from your eyes against your control. Your arms shook as you placed Eva back in her seat and collapsed to your knees, hands against your face, throat burning from fighting back the tears and chest heaving with every intake of breath.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t do this! I never wanted you to see me like this. I needed to be strong for you V, I was your strength, I was your reason to keep fighting. I’ve needed you so much these past few months, I’ve fought so hard. I’ve struggled so much. Every time I look at her, I see you. If it wasn’t for her I... I... probably wouldn’t even be here.” You were sobbing uncontrollably, spilling your heart out, everything you wanted to hide and conceal behind a facade. But you were breaking, you couldn’t keep it up any more.

“I was ready to join you V, oh so ready. And then I found out, I had a life inside of me; a life that we created together. Even though you’re not here, every part of you that has been left behind is keeping me going, keeping me alive, protecting me. Someone weak couldn’t do that, someone weak couldn’t create such beauty.” The tears eased as you glanced towards your daughters peaceful face. You wiped your eyes, the tears stilling for long enough for you to regain some of your composure.

“Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a heaven in hells despair.” You read the words engraved into the headstone in front of you, tracing them with your fingers as you did. “I spent many a long night reading your book. The only peace I could find was in its pages. I read this one from the hospital bed the night I found out about our treasure and nothing has ever resonated with me more.”

You shared a few moments of silence, before a familiar gurgling began from behind you. You chuckled as you stood up. “For someone who used to struggle to clear a plate of food, you sure made one hungry baby.” You lifted her and cradled her against your breast. “Thank you , V. You’ve given me the greatest gift I could have imagined. How something so pure could have been born from a hell so grim, only you could have done this.” You looked down the hill to see the familiar van waiting. Nico knew you were coming today and offered to pick you up on her way back home, knowing you’d probably not want to face public transport.

“Looks like my ride is here. Nico's always on time now, and her driving has never been better. She realised her driving was not child safe in the slightest. How I made it to the hospital in one piece when I went into labour I'll never know. I don’t know who was freaking out more, her or Nero!” You smiled at the happy memories. You had so many of them now, and it was all possible because of him.

“Happy birthday, V. I’ll make sure she knows who her father was and how incredible he was.” You placed Eva back in the stroller as she gives you a content gargle.

“I’ll make you proud V. I’ll do it for the both of us... I love you.”

___________

A/N: I decided to go with a scenario where you were never told about what really happened in the Qliphoth. As far as you were aware, he died at the hands of Urizen (just in case anyone cared enough to wonder haha). Also, for the purpose of this fic, Devil May Cry is located in Redgrave, just seemed like a good place to stow away in my mind.

I'm sorry ;_;

[nativeplantenthusiast]

Replacing Invasives!  Native Alternatives for Golden Bamboo (Phyllostachys aurea)

For the final post in this series I have saved the best(?) for last, or at least the worst of all the offenders when it comes to invasive species.  You can really take your pick as to what bamboo species to focus on, most you find in nurseries and landscape businesses will be invasive.  I have experience working with Golden Bamboo and have seen it planted at many places so I will focus on it.  This species comes from China and was introduced to the U.S. as a living fence of sorts back in 1882. (Source 1) The ornamental nature of bamboo can’t be understated, it is amazing how beautiful and hardy this species of grass is.  From its height, to its tight clustering, and to the pure natural aesthetic that it gives off when used for landscaping.  If you can’t tell by my praise, not only is bamboo one of, if not the worst, invasive species on the planet, but it is my favorite species on the planet. (eventually I plan on getting a tattoo to display my love for the grass) Despite the fact that I love and marvel at this wonder of a plant I still recognize the fact that it is terrible to have planted at a garden or any landscape outside of its native range.  

Bamboo is a very fast growing and spreading invasive, complete with cloning underground roots that make it take many treatments to fully prevent the bamboo’s return the next year.  Working in a large stand of tall bamboo is very surreal and backbreaking to do, I spent many days at a site with an uphill stand of 20-foot-tall bamboo.  It was also rather fun at the same time, the bamboo is light and so I would cut it at the base with my chainsaw and support it with my shoulder so it doesn’t fall, then I would get a hand under it and launch it on to the pile we were forming at the base of the hill.  You do need to be careful though, vines growing on top of the bamboo can cause A LOT of tension that when released could snap a stalk off at a sharp angle and have it hurtling towards you.  Also, there are dead ones littered between that can fall through onto you, but as long as you are observant and go carefully you’ll be fine. The treatment is simply cutting it down and spraying a high percentage herbicide mix on the base, the best is to get a mix of imazapyr if there are no other native species around and if you can’t then use glyphosate.  At smaller sizes you can spray the leaves or cut the bases with a machete and spray the base.  The best part about dealing with the removal of large bamboo stalks is that now you have a ton of great material to make stuff with!  A coworker of mine and I made cups and shot glasses out of the bamboo we cut down.

As this is the last of these posts for now, I want to thank everyone for reading and I hope that you’ve either learned something, gained new insight/appreciation, or had a fun time with me on these posts.  

Now for the replacements, well I actually want to have you all submit some ideas that you have for your locale.  Bamboo doesn’t serve much of a purpose like a flowering bush or groundcover vine so it’s really up to personal preference and how your space is set up. As always you should look into species that are local to you and fit into your overall garden plan, whatever you have in mind and whatever fits that picture.  If you want to know more or want to share pictures from your gardens feel free to message me and we can talk about plants!

Source 1- http://plants.ifas.ufl.edu/plant-directory/phyllostachys-aurea/