#Uptake Fear

[monards]

the hexenzirkel ladies finally saying rhinedottir’s losing her mind as if we haven’t known that from like 1.0 when we saw her make a huge ass dragon that almost wiped mondstadt

[studioeisa]

kae i went to scroll through my recs tag and realised. it’s almost entirely made up of ur fics. i am literally ur fan account 🩷🩷

mildly insane thing to say when my recent ao3 history is almost exclusively kudos for you (even BEFORE i followed ur tumblr, i realized.. #destiny..) this user. Me. is a char fan account

[brucewaynehater101]

When a Robin sheds their uniform to uptake a new role, the goons and Rogues cry out in fear.

Robins are absolutely feral demon spirits that cause unparalleled levels of chaos. Batman may terrify criminals, but Robins are more likely to steal your actual soul. They aren't as bad as the Dark Knight, but somehow that shadow creature is the only reason Robins don't obliterate everyone and everything. Somehow, those traffic light colors prevent the kids from becoming worse. Robin is a symbol of hope, and the child in the costume tries to live up to that.

After the current Robin sheds the mantle?

Now, there's a "new" vigilante with less rules and less supervision. Also, chances are extremely high that another Robin will pop up by the end of the week.

[evandorepart2]

man. january really fucked me up didnt it

[laurasimonsdaughter]

The dragon – astonishingly – was a surprise. Even in his worst nightmares there hadn’t been a dragon. But the chains were too well fastened to fight and he supposed that getting eaten was at least quicker than starving to death on this damn mountain. He closed his eyes, but the thundering shake of the ground as the dragon landed was as bad as having seen the claws dig into the earth. He closed his eyes tighter.

“Are you the seventh son of the seventh son?” The voice was inhumanly low and it shook the fear in his bones loose.

“Yes!” he screamed. “Yes! Cursed, blighted, whatever you bloody want! Just get it over with.”

There was a short, tense silence.

“I have not come to kill you, human. I want to offer you a deal.”

His eyes opened in shock. “You what?”

The dragon was sitting a few paces away from him, its scaly claws crossed over one another and its massive, shimmering wings folded behind its hulking back. The look in its glittering eyes was intelligent and calculating, but not unkind, certainly not threatening. It waited.

“What—what kind of deal?” he stammered, heart racing with a wild, terrified hope.

“I understand that you have been left here to die by your fellow humans, because you are an extremely rare type of human, that they are afraid of. Is that correct?”

He studied the dragon’s interested expression for any trace of sarcasm, but there was none. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Well then!” the dragon exclaimed. “I propose to you this: I will break your chains and save you from the humans, and in return you will join my hoard and live in my nest.”

“I’m sorry. Join your—what do you mean live in a nest. Humans don’t live in nests.”

The dragon gave a sideways movement of its massive head, scales glinting in the sun. “There is plenty of room. It used to be a cavern in a mountain, of very respectable depth and dimensions, but during one of my hibernation some humans built a castle on top of it, so it is very suitable for humans.”

He was almost baffled enough to no longer be scared. Almost. “What happened to the people who built it?”

The dragon, somehow, managed to arch a nonexistent eyebrow. “They live there,” it replied, slowly, as if it feared that he was rather slower on the uptake than expected. “That was the start of my hoard, you see.”

He hadn’t misheard it. It did say ‘hoard’. “But...dragons hoard gold, jewels, riches…”

“Uninspired amateurs,” the dragon sniffed. “All very well for one’s hatchling years, but honestly.” The glittering eyes squinted down at him. “Do you not want to join my hoard?”

“I…” Living in a castle with a dragon for a protector sure beat being chained to a rock by feral townsfolk, there was no doubt about that. And what other choice did he have? He swallowed. “I do.”

“Wonderful!” Joyful sparks snapped off the dragon’s jaw as it gracefully leapt upright. “I shall do away with those pesky chains.” And he came towards him with remarkably light steps.

“Do you live very far away?” he blurted out, nervously watching the dragon as it studied the iron rings hammered into the stone. “Will I be able to—I cannot just leave my brothers behind!”

The dragon, who had just crushed one end of the chain to warped bits of broken iron in its claw, looked up distractedly. “Whatever are you talking about? All your brothers are at my nest already. Who do you think told me where to find you?”

His heart leapt in his chest. He didn’t even notice the heavy weight of the chains fall away as they slid to the ground. “You...you’d want to keep my brothers too?”

The dragon made an indignant noise, bowing down low and motioning rather impatiently for him to climb on its back. “What kind of dragon do you take me for! I must have the whole set.”

[eir-trixa]

Okay, this was probably already said before and I might be slow in this uptake but don't you think that Annabeth's fear of Percy controlling poison in HoH is less because she fears him using that against Akhlys or against her or anyone, but more on that she was getting flashbacks of Luke as Kronos and how the same kind of anger and unlimited power lead him to betray his family and leave her behind?

I think to see that same thing that happened to Luke happen to someone she loved as much as Percy was what triggered her. Cause she's already seen Percy harness so much power before, probably had the front seat to most of his feats. But seeing the same anger as Luke's - which Percy already admitted to having understood in MoA - and having been presented power great enough to allow him to get revenge was probably the combination that threw her off like... that's not Percy. If he continues to that same path she's gonna lose him, like she did her older brother.

[heartfullofleeches]

thoughts

brie would go feral over virgin lust demon darling having like, a demonic form, preferably with big honkers

Yan "Delivery Boy" + Virgin Lust Demon Reader

[Very brief body horror]

-

"So.... A demon, huh?"

Friends tells friends everything. Their fears, their hopes, their secrets. That's how things play out in the movies, anyway. It's hard keeping up with people reaching out a branch of friendship when you seldomly have the stamina to keep up with them or even pick up their calls.

"Yeah! My mom was a demon and my dad's a regular old human.... Or- was it the other way around? I haven't talked to either of them in forever."

As skeptical as anyone would be in his position, Brie felt there had to be a pinch of veracity to your proclamation. Cuteness like yours wasn't a natural feat. His stomach was still raw with the flutters of anxiety retailing the night he showed up on your doorstep to be met with that clueless, charitable smile of yours.

"Oh, yeah?" Brie challenges with a small smirk. "Well if you're a demon, you should probably know what I do to your pizzas before I hand them over to you.

Brie's hands promptly fly over his mouth, every aspect of himself screaming at him for almost letting his own little secret slip through the cracks. Luck being on his side, you merely laugh off off his statement as you spring up from your place on the couch.

"You'd better not be stealing any of my toppings! I pay good money for every slice... Least I used to before all those vouchers you gave me... I can show you if you really don't believe me... I trust you, Brie."

Brie melts into the couch cushions, vulnerability and trust in your eyes welding him in place as you apprehensively fiddle with the sleeve of your shirt - awaiting his answer.

"O..okay." He stammers, tongue tied as the ceiling lights perfectly illuminate every one of your features that keeps him awake at night. "Sure, I guess... Show me."

"Great!" Kicking off your shoes, your limbs grow stagnant as your eyes roll back in their sockets - veins branching outward cross the whites of your scleras till they are reduced to a milky ruby hue. Your fingertips elongate, skin merging with the keratin of your nails as they sharpen into razor points.

Sickening cracks and pops can be heard as the bones of your spine snap to make room for more. Breaths piercing and ragged, your chest swells with each draw of air you pull in - testing the resilience of your formly loose fitting tee shirt as your bust ballons to your noticeable uptake in size.

Rolling your now forked tongue over flat teeth, your toothy grin still holds that realm of innocence as you gaze down at Brie.

"Well?"

Brie jumps as something heavy hits the floor - twin tails swishing back and forth in anticipation. Horror should have been the prominent force driving through him. Fear and terror is what he should have felt. Those were the emotions a coward would experience in this moment, and as a man who branded himself spineless for being unable to express his love to you in a normal and sane way perhaps he was braver than initially believed.

"titties...."

Cocking your head to one side, confusion takes the forefront of your expression. As your hair falls over your face, small, nubby horns can be seen at the bases of your temples.

"Did you say something, Brie?"

"H-huh?! Me?? Course not. You're probably just hearing the ceiling fan." He certainly didn't mention your chest- Nor was he seconds away from spilling into a feverish tangent about how desperately he wanted your massive breasts in his face, and preferably his mouth. That'd be crazy-

Brie peals out of his jacket as if it were on fire, balling and shoving it between his thighs as he laughs - shepherding his eyes anywhere but the dip in your shirt.

"Whew- Man, it's chilly in here! I should've worn longer pants! Hahaha-"

"I can bring you some blankets?"

"No thanks, I'm good! You're super cute by the way! Even more so in this form. Your tits- Fuck! Tails! R-really caught my eye."

[transmutationisms]

I have always been wary of the psychiatric industry, but its only very recently that i started to read anti-psychiatric works. Your blog is the first time i saw that the "chemical imbalances causing mental illness" is a myth, and honestly its something im having a hard time wrapping my head around.

Is it that mood regulation struggles, labelled as a mental illnesses, has more to do with outside factors instead of the person "just being that way"? Is it therefore unlikely for someone to have struggles with mood regulation if they cant identify any external causes that would cause them to be, for example, extremely agoraphobic or to have anger management issues? Im asking this for myself mainly, cause i always had intense agoraphobia no matter how i often go outside my home (in fact it was worse when i was a teen and i was outside the house in even more back then). I cant think of any reason for me to be like this than chemical imbalances in my brain.

the specific 'chemical imbalance' myth i was talking about in this post is the idea that depression is caused by low serotonin, and that therefore SSRIs—serotonin re-uptake inhibitors, ie drugs that cause a higher level of serotonin in the brain—ought to cure or at least ameliorate depression. this conjecture is belied by the fact that SSRIs don't, at a population level, reliably perform better than placebo.

although a neurobiological cause of 'mental illness' has long been the holy grail of psychiatry, the serotonin imbalance myth is far from the only hypothesis that psychiatrists and neuroscientists have proposed. so, a critique of the serotonin myth is not synonymous with, or generalisable to, a critique of every neurobiological mechanism purported to explain psychiatric diagnoses. you may be interested to know, though, that genomics and neuroscience have not identified a biological cause of any psychiatric diagnosis (p. 851).

all human experiences are biologically instantiated, including in the brain and wider nervous system. we are embodied beings. however, it is a leap to assume that such instantiation is automatically equivalent to a causal explanation or disease etiology. in other words, to deny that psychiatric diagnoses are known to be biologically caused does not mean we deny that thoughts and thought patterns express in the physical matter of neuroanatomy. this is a major philosophical sticking point to keep in mind whenever you're looking at something like, eg, a study that purports to show 'brain differences' in those assigned a certain psychiatric diagnosis. another thing to consider is whether these papers are plagued with methodological issues or financial conflicts of interest.

i can't possibly tell you why you exhibit agoraphobia. however, when i talk about social, economic, and environmental factors that may contribute to the patterns of behaviour labelled as 'mental illness', i'm talking about much more than the individual choice to leave your house. since phobias are 'anxiety disorders', i might start by probing into questions like: is the world you live in safe? do you perceive it as safe? do you or your community face existential threats that may confront you more obviously when you go outside? are you nervous around other people, and if so, might that be connected to fears (well-founded or not) about interpersonal violence and harm? do you think any of these anxieties may be connected to the hostility and inaccessible design of the social environment and economic conditions?

human behaviour and thought varies. some of those variations may be totally benign; others may be helpful or harmful to the person living with them. it would be weird if every single one of the 8 billion people on earth experienced precisely the same amount of anxiety about any situation, no? all of this is to say: yeah, it's entirely possible you have been, for one reason or another (genetic, neuroanatomical, social, &c) predisposed to experience high, even debilitating levels of anxiety when leaving your home. most human characteristics develop from a tangle of social, environmental, material causes—ie, from a combination of 'nature' and 'nurture'. what doesn't follow, though, is the claim that there is therefore a discrete, 'diseased' element of your brain or brain functioning that can simply be cured or eliminated through psychiatric intervention.

it is a critical point of anti-psychiatry to challenge psychiatric and neuroscientific claims to neurobiological determinism where psychiatric diagnoses are concerned. this is for many reasons, including: a) that these claims have not been demonstrated to actually be true [see above]; b) that they rob pathologised people of agency and self-determination [see: you're too sick to know you're sick, and the doctor will fix you now]; c) that they are often pushed by pharmaceutical companies with financial interests, or grant-funded researchers with... financial interests; d) that they are politically seductive in various eugenic, hereditarian discourses that seek to eliminate the biologically 'unfit' element from society.

[yk-4]

fireworks & feelings

w. eren yeager

ⓘ your best friend, eren, seems completely clueless to your long-held feelings. tooth-rotting fluff. sfw. f!reader. modern au. currently rewatching aot: junior high and got inspired by the firework festival episode! song : everybody wants to rule the world by tears for fears.

—

you watched eren from across the crowded school cafeteria, a sigh escaping your lips. he was so effortlessly cool, even when he was just picking at his lunch, his brow furrowed in concentration as he read something on his phone. you knew he was probably checking his fantasy football scores, but you couldn't help but imagine him checking his messages, maybe even a text from you.

you'd been crushing on eren for what felt like forever. it started in middle school, with his shy smile and his quiet kindness. now, in college, his smile still held the power to make your heart skip a beat. you'd say it was full-blown, head-over-heels, can't-stop-thinking-about-him kind of love.

the problem was, you were painfully obvious about it. everyone in your school knew you were head over heels for eren, from the way you'd blush every time he looked at you to the way you'd always find a way to be near him.

but eren, bless his oblivious heart, seemed completely clueless. he'd always been a little slow on the uptake when it came to romantic cues, and you'd learned to accept it as part of his charm.

"hello? earth to y/n," your friend, sasha, waving your sandwich in front of your face. "you've been staring at eren for the past five minutes. are you planning on eating this sandwich or just daydream about him?"

your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "sorry," you mumbled, trying to regain your composure. "just thinking about stuff."

"stuff?" mikasa raised an eyebrow. "like how you're going to finally confess your feelings to eren? because everyone knows you're head over heels for him."

you groaned, "oh, come on, mikasa. it's not that obvious."

"but it's sooo obvious," sasha said, her voice being muffled by the salad she was munching on. "even eren's obliviousness can't miss it." mikasa added, shaking her head.

you sighed, knowing they were right. but eren was just as oblivious to your feelings as he was to the fact that his shirt was inside out.

"i don't know what to do," you stated, a little frustrated. "i'm so scared to make a move. what if he doesn't feel the same way?"

mikasa gave you a knowing look, "oh trust me, eren likes you too. he's just too dense to realize it."

a sigh escapes your lips. eren was sweet, kind, and loyal. how you wished he'd just get a clue, that he'd see the way you looked at him, the way your heart skipped a beat every time he smiled.

you took a bite of your sandwich, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts. maybe you should just shoot your shot and tell him how you felt. but what if he didn't feel the same way?

the only way to know for sure was to take a chance. but you weren't sure you were ready yet. you were so used to keeping your feelings a secret (even though everyone else knew). but maybe it was time to make a move.

you glanced at eren again, his brow still furrowed as he read his phone. he was so, so perfect. and you were hopelessly, helplessly in love with him.

—

taking your friends' suggestions, you devised a plan in your mind. you knew eren was a sucker for a good story, especially a love story. so, you decided to use his love for romance to your advantage.

you spent the next few days subtly dropping hints, leaving books with romantic covers around the library, mentioning love songs on the radio, and even suggesting a movie night with a classic rom-com.

eren had prepared your snacks, bringing overflowing bags of popcorn. the smell of buttered goodness filled the air. you'd carefully chosen the movie, a classic rom-com with a predictable but heartwarming plot about two friends who slowly realize they're in love. you'd even made sure to pick one with a scene where the guy finally confesses his feelings, hoping it would resonate with eren.

eren settled onto the couch, his eyes already glued to the screen. you watched him laugh at the predictable twists and turns, completely unaware of the parallel to your own unspoken feelings. it was infuriating, yet you couldn't help but smile at his genuine enjoyment.

"this movie is so cheesy," he said, shaking his head, but a genuine smile played on his lips. "but i can't help but love it."

you laughed, trying to hide your disappointment. "it's a classic for a reason," you said, hoping he'd catch the hint.

he leaned closer, his eyes still on the screen. "yeah, i guess so," he said, his voice a little muffled by the popcorn. "i'm glad you picked it."

you felt a pang of frustration. you'd practically spelled it out for him, yet he was still clueless.

as the movie progressed, you found yourself getting more and more frustrated. you'd point out the cheesy lines, hoping he'd make the connection, but he just laughed it off.

when the movie reached the scene where the guy finally confesses his feelings, you held your breath. this was it. this was the moment.

eren, however, just chuckled. "that was so predictable," he said, shaking his head. "i knew it was coming."

you let out a sigh. you were starting to think this whole plan was a complete failure.

"well," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, "at least it's a happy ending."

eren nodded, still chuckling. "yeah, i guess so."

you were starting to lose hope. maybe your plan was too subtle, maybe eren was just too dense to pick up on your cues. the thought of accepting that your feelings would remain unreturned felt like a reminder that things don't always go the way you hope.

—

the rest of the semester flew by in a blur, leaving you all drained and burnt out. the air in your dorm was heavy with the scent of burnt ramen and despair.

sasha, usually a ball of energy, was slumped on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. mikasa was buried in a mountain of textbooks, her brows furrowed in concentration. meanwhile, you were slumped on your own bed, feeling like a deflated balloon.

"this is the worst,” you yawned, your voice laced with exhaustion. “i can’t believe we have to cram for these finals.”

sasha let out a tired sigh. “i know, right? i think i might have fried my brain from all those exams we took.”

suddenly, a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “hey, you know what would make this all better?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter.

“what?” you asked, still exhausted.

“the fireworks festival!” she exclaimed. “it’s this weekend! we should go!”

mikasa, who had been silent up until now, looked up from her books, a flicker of interest in her eyes. “actually, that’s not a bad idea,” she agreed. “a little distraction might be good for all of us.”

but you were too exhausted, too drained to even think about having fun.

“come on,” sasha urged. “it’ll be a good way to blow off some steam. besides, it’s the perfect opportunity to confess to eren!”

your heart skipped a beat. confess to eren? the thought had been lurking in the back of your mind for months, but the thought of actually doing it felt impossible.

“sasha!” you exclaimed, your voice a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. “don’t just say that!”

“sasha’s right. it’s a beautiful and memorable event. it would be a wonderful opportunity.” mikasa chimed in, her voice a little more animated than usual.

you felt a mix of panic and excitement. the thought of confessing to eren, under the dazzling display of fireworks, was both terrifying and exhilarating. you looked at them, both their faces filled with encouragement and support. they were right, this could be the perfect chance.

“alright!” you exclaimed, “let's all go together!”

both your best friends clapped of excitement. "i'll tell connie!" sasha added.

a wave of relief washed over you. the fireworks festival, with its magical atmosphere, seemed to be the perfect setting to finally reveal your long-held feelings. you just had to find the courage until the weekend.

—

the summer fireworks festival has finally arrived, the night everyone in school seemed to be looking forward to. it is a night filled with laughter, shared snacks, and a breathtaking fireworks display.

you arrived at the park with mikasa, sasha, connie, and a few other friends, and your eyes immediately scanned the crowd for eren. he was there, of course, standing with armin and jean, his face lit by the excited chatter of his friends.

you felt your heart skip a beat. he looked so handsome, his clean-cut hair tousled by the summer breeze, and for once, his crisp, white shirt wasn't inside out.

"they're over there! heyyy!!!" sasha exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement, dashing off to where everyone was. armin and eren waved their hands as soon as they spotted you all trailing off behind her.

eren turned to you, "hey," he greeted, a smile lit up his face. "didn't expect to see you here."

"i wouldn't miss it," you replied, your cheeks flushed.

"so, what's the plan?" armin initiated, "ferris wheel first, or are we going straight for the roller coaster?"

"fooddd!!!" sasha and connie exclaimed, their voices booming over the festival grounds.

the group erupted in laughter, the playful banter a familiar sound. in the end, everyone decided that the roller coaster was a perfect way to kick off the night.

screams and laughter blurred together as the roller coaster took off, the wind whipping through your hair as you soared through the air. armin and reiner were mostly screaming, while eren, jean, and ymir were half screaming and half laughing. you got off the ride breathless, but ready for more.

you even spotted your seniors, levi, hange, and erwin, enjoying the festival food with everyone else. you shared a plate of steaming yakisoba, and eren even won you a giant, fluffy panda plushie from the ring toss game!

everyone was having a great time as you rode the ferris wheel and played carnival games. as the sky began to darken, the anticipation for the fireworks grew. but even amidst the chaos and the excitement, you couldn't help but steal glances at eren throughout the night. his laughter, his smile, his presence—all of it felt like a dream.

the night was young, the fireworks were just about to begin, and your heart was ready to burst any moment.

—

the air crackled with anticipation as the final countdown echoed through the festival grounds. everyone, even the usually stoic reiner, had a mischievous glint in their eyes. mikasa, ever the mastermind, nudged sasha with a knowing grin. "time for the grand finale," she whispered.

you noticed the subtle shift in the crowd. your friends, who had been peppering you with playful questions about eren all night, suddenly seemed to vanish. even armin, usually glued to eren, was nowhere to be seen. a mix of confusion and excitement spread through you.

as the first firework burst into a brilliant bloom of color, a collective gasp rose from the crowd. but you barely registered it. you were too busy searching for eren, your heart pounding in your chest. then, you saw him, standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you. he looked . . . different. his usual playful grin was replaced by a serious expression, his eyes holding a depth you hadn't seen before.

he took a step towards you, and the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you under the dazzling fireworks display. the crowd was a blur of color and sound, but all you could see was eren, his face illuminated by the shifting lights.

eren stopped just a few feet away, his gaze unwavering. the air between you was thick with unspoken words, a nervous energy that mirrored the fireworks exploding overhead.

"y/n," he began, his voice low and husky, "i-" he paused, seeming to gather his courage, and you held your breath, your heart thundering in your chest.

"i've wanted to tell you this for a long time," he continued, his eyes searching yours. "ever since-" he trailed off, a blush creeping up his neck.

you leaned forward, your heart overflowing with a mix of anticipation and hope. "since what?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the roar of the fireworks.

he took a deep breath, his gaze intense. "since the day we met," he confessed, his voice firm and sincere. "you've been . . . everything to me."

a wave of warmth washed over you, melting away the nervous tension that had been building all night. you felt a smile tug at your lips, and you couldn't help but laugh, a light, bubbly sound that echoed through the night.

"eren," you began, your voice trembling with emotion. your eyes met his, and you saw the same vulnerability mirrored in his gaze. "i feel the same way," you whispered, the words spilling out like a long-held secret. "i've been waiting for you to say something." tears of happiness threatened to fall from your eyes.

he let out a relieved sigh, a smile finally breaking across his face. "i knew it!" he exclaimed, his voice euphoric. "i knew you felt it too!"

he took a step closer, his arms shooting out to scoop you up in a hug. you laughed as he lifted you off your feet, spinning you around in a joyous whirl. your heart soared with happiness, and you couldn't help but giggle as he held you tight, his laughter echoing yours.

the fireworks continued to explode overhead, but all you could see was eren, his face inches from yours, his eyes locked on yours, and it almost took your breath away.

"i'm so glad i took the chance." he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

suddenly, a chorus of cheers erupted from the crowd. your friends, who had been conspicuously absent, emerged from the shadows, their faces beaming with joy. sasha threw her arms up in the air, shouting, "finally! about damn time!" armin and mikasa gave you a thumbs up. even your seniors were there! levi, his usual stoic expression replaced by a rare smile, muttered, "good for you, brats."

the fireworks continued to explode, painting the night sky with vibrant colors. you still couldn't believe this moment was real. it was a night you'd never forget. the fireworks festival, with its dazzling display, felt like a celebration of your newfound love.

—

[zebaji]

Morro's Means to Make Money

Morro comes to Ninjago with one purpose in mind– Take over Ninjago by controlling the economic flow of the realm.

But he’s been trapped in the Cursed Realm for decades and Ninjago has changed to the point Morro doesn’t recognize anything anymore. So he hires��� kidnaps– Lloyd Garmadon to help him secure enough money to be the wealthiest person and ghost in Ninjago.

An interactive S5 AU where I ask you guys to help Morro and Lloyd come up with SFW ideas to get money!

_-___-Part 1: How this mess started-___-_

Lloyd groggily makes his way to the bathroom, hating every life choice he has ever made. Why had no one stopped him when he was six cans of energy drinks, fifteen packs of assorted chocolates, and an entire family-sized bag of Skittles deep into the night? They knew he was going to end up in a sugar coma, and yet they had sat around him, enjoying the horror movie Cole had put on, and did nothing to stop his bad decisions. Did the Ninja not love him anymore? Were they trying to kill him?

He runs his tongue across his teeth and grimaces when he can still taste the fuzzy aftertaste of sugar in his mouth. He knew that much sugar was a mistake, he grumbles to himself, making the decision that he was going to brush his teeth twice and then he wasn’t going to touch candy for at least a day. Maybe that was a bad decision too, but Lloyd’s veins are mostly sugar anyway and he’s too self-destructive to make healthy life decisions.

After Lloyd feels like his teeth won’t decay on him right then and there, he splashes water on his face to wake himself up. Then he looks up from the sink and into the mirror to make sure he looks more awake than he actually feels, and screeches so loudly, he hears a bird flapping off of the roof.

Lloyd curses Cole for playing that movie last night. Is that why he ate so much candy? Was it because he was scared and needed comfort food? Possibly. But Lloyd didn’t think he’d get so spooked from the movie that the fear would still be there in the morning. Is he still dreaming in his sugar coma? There is no way right now that he is in a horror movie right now.

He doesn’t feel like a human right now, let alone a ninja capable of surviving a supernatural attack. Because, uh, yeah, there is a person in the mirror. No, it’s not Lloyd, though he’s there too– but a green, blob-looking man, peering over his shoulder with an uninterested frown. He looks to be Lloyd’s age– with pitch-black hair and sunken eyes floating over him, looking at Lloyd like he has personally disappointed him. 

“I’m dead,” Lloyd whispers dreadfully, as cold air floods through him. “I ate too much candy and now I’m dead. Ohhh, Kai’s going to kill me.”

The figure in the mirror makes a face, “Ugh.” He says, and Lloyd bites down another yelp as the green man in the mirror isn’t just in the mirror anymore but next to him. Is that why Lloyd is suddenly shivering despite it being summer? 

“You better not be dead. I need you to do something for me.”

Despite Lloyd’s brain telling him to scream and run out of the bathroom to tell someone that the monastery was haunted, and they definitely needed some sort of ghost pest control, he just groans and rubs his head. 

He’s barely awake enough to function properly anyway. “I’m a little too scared to ask this, but why do you need me? Like me specifically? Because I don’t think I can be much help to anyone, let alone ghosts, right now.”

He’s expecting to hear something along the lines of some sort of unfinished business or a ghost with a vendetta against him, not: “You’re poor.”

Lloyd just stares blankly at him. This has to be the candy talking. “Uhh… What?”

The ghost sighs, and rubs his head, like Lloyd is slow to the uptake. Sue him, he was recovering from his candy high! Also, why would: “You’re poor,” be the first thing to pop into Lloyd’s mind when there is a ghost haunting him?

“Listen, you’re the Green Ninja right?” The ghost says slowly like he’s trying to teach Lloyd something. Lloyd just nods his head along, trying to figure out why he thinks that this won’t be the weirdest thing that will happen to him today. “Someone who is famous, correct?”

“...Yes,” Lloyd nods his head again, brows furrowed in confusion. What did that have to do with being poor?

“Where’s the money then?”

“I– what?” Lloyd asks, feeling befuddled. “What are you talking about? Also, who are you? Why do you care about my money? Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know? Haunting me? Scaring me? Making my life miserable? Whatever ghosts do?”

The ghost snorts, “Do you want me to do that?”

Lloyd tosses his hands in the air, “No! But what does my money have to do with anything?” He demands, and the ghost shrugs.

“When I was living, I was poor and an orphan. Now, I’m dead and still poor, I’d like to change that– except the orphan part, I don’t really care about that anymore,” The green dude says, and Lloyd thinks it over in his head before nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Why do you need my help though? Not anyone else…like I don’t know, Clutch Powers? Or Cliff Gordon? They’re pretty rich, right?”

“Yes, they are. And trust me, we’ll get to them. But you Lloyd– you’re not only famous, you are a legend. No matter what you do, you will be immortalized in history forever. You should have a lot of money rolling in for simply being you. So where is it?” The ghost asks, and Lloyd frowns at that perspective that he hadn’t thought of before.

He didn’t have any money. 

He didn’t have a need for money, since Wu paid for most things, so that meant he was all set. But… he was super famous though. Surely someone had tried to pay him for protecting Ninja or something, right? But no, he realizes with a frown. He’d never gotten a dime for his efforts.

“Exactly,” The ghost seemingly read his thoughts and grins at him victoriously. “You’re poor.”

“I have food on the table and a roof over my head,” Lloyd points out, trying to find some reason to be okay with having no source of income to his name. “Also I have candy. I think I'm alright with that.” But the more Lloyd thinks about it though, he doesn’t think he actually is.

“But with money, I’m sure you could get that new comic book you’ve been thinking about. Fritz Donnegen and the attack of the Arsenic Featherflies, right?” The ghost says, looking smug, and Lloyd frowns. 

Yes, he did want the new comic, and was saving up for it, but…“Hey, how did you know about that? How long have you been haunting me?” He demands, and the ghost rolls his eyes.

“I don’t need to haunt you, one look from that sugar-infested hell that you call a bedroom was more than enough to know what you truly like when you're not saving Ninjago,” the ghost dismisses, and Lloyd bristles, feeling offended.

“Okay, buddy. This is the last time I ask you: Who are you and why do you want my non-existent money?”

The ghost sighs and crosses his arms. “I don’t just want your non-existent money, I want to hire you to make money for me.”

Lloyd blinks, once again feeling lost as heck. “Wanna run that by me again?”

“Be my cash cow and I’ll pay you in candy and comics. Plus, I can get you blackmail on literally anyone you want– Wu especially,” The ghost offers, stretching out a goopy hand, Lloyd just knows this is a bad idea, but hey, getting money that he probably deserves, plus free candy, comics, and blackmail on whoever he wants?

“Well, it’s not like I’m doing anything,” Lloyd shrugs and shakes the ghost’s hand. And then immediately pulls back, because ewww. Ghost hands were gross. “How do we start?”

The ghost grins, deep and dark, and despite there being no windows in the bathroom, Lloyd’s hair flutters from the wind. “Give me a list of all the things that can get us quick money,” The ghost says. “And write a letter to the Ninja so they don’t think I’m using you to break into your grandfather’s tomb.”

_-___-_

Kai swears he’s just walking to his room after grabbing pain relief for his throbbing headache when he passes Lloyd’s room and hears voices. He doesn’t mean to be suspicious, but he didn’t think that Lloyd had any friends over, so, who was he talking to?

“We could always start a fan shop?” He hears Lloyd say and frowns. A fan shop? Did Lloyd forget that they were setting up a tea shop?

He’s so confused that he misses the other person’s response, although it sounds garbled and distorted to the point that even if Kai could hear, he probably wouldn't be able to understand anyway. Who was Lloyd calling at six in the morning?

“Ugh, you’re so old– I’m not saying that we personally make the fans by hand. I was thinking more along the lines of getting custom fans pre-made that have my autograph or something– wait! What if we set up a merch shop? That’s low maintenance, especially if we just get someone to do it for us,” Lloyd says, and Kai blinks a few times. 

A merch shop? For fans? Or a fan merch ship?  Was Lloyd still on his sugar rush? Did Kai need to take him to the hospital?

“What do you mean you were once a human fan? You’re not even a human! I don’t care that you can control the wind, no one is going to pay me money to be a literal fan!” 

Okay, that’s it. 

Kai can only reach so much confusion with a raging headache, and he’s met his limit. He pushes Lloyd’s door open, and winces in pain as Lloyd yelps and throws a pillow at his head. “Dude! It’s just me,” Kai says, tossing his arms up. “Just wanted to check up on you, you had a lot of sugar last night. Are you alright? Who are you talking to?” He looks around the room– Lloyd is sitting on his bed, facing the window with a notebook on his lap, but no one else is in the room. 

Maybe Kai’s going crazy. That’s probably it.

Lloyd shrugs, shutting the notebook. “I’m just talking to myself. I had a weird dream that a ghost was trying to convince me to make him money, and then I decided that was a good idea, so now I’m trying to think of ideas. Got any?”

Kai nods his head slowly, his brain trying to understand what in the world is going on. “Dreamt of a ghost? Did the movie last night scare you?” He asks, grasping at straws for any semblance of context, but Lloyd snorts and shakes his head.

“Nah. It was just good timing.”

Well, that makes absolutely no sense. 

“Okay,” Kai says, backing out of Lloyd's room. “Good talk. When my headache goes away, I’m going to assume that this was a hallucination and that a ghost didn’t ask you to be part of a money-making scheme.”

“Okay,” Lloyd nods his head and waves Kai away. “By then, we should probably have the money, so don’t even worry about it.”

Kai shuts the door and heads back to bed. Let someone else take care of this– preferably Cole. It was his fault for showing them the movie after all. Although making money on the side wasn’t such a bad idea, Kai admits. 

Maybe… Then Kai remembers the last time he tried to make money– as a human pinata. He shakes his head violently. That was a memory he thought he had managed to scrub from his brain. Guess not. He’ll think about money-making later.

_-___-_

Dear Wu, 

I have decided that since your tea shop is not going to do well– probably because you have it in the worst place for customers and have no idea how to run a business– someone needs to step up and be able to provide. So to obtain a constant stream of money (That I should rightfully have since I have saved Ninjago multiple times.) I have decided to explore my options, and honestly, the others should be doing the same thing as well, though I will probably be out of town for the next few months.

Please do not panic, I am not in a hostage situation, in fact, I have your former student Morro helping me, and he promises me candy and blackmail on you, so don’t even try looking for me. I had Dareth set up a merchandise shop, so you will have at least some sort of income while I am away.

To the others, GUYS WE’RE GOING TO BE RICH I PROMISE

Love, Lloyd.

Ps. Whatever you see on the news, ignore it.

Pps. Wu, Morro told me what you did back in 1545, I swear to your father, don’t even try it.

_-___-_

Part 2: Robbing a bank

[perseephoneee]

four times we almost kissed and the one time we did (kol mikaelson x f!reader)

warnings: slight blood sharing, mostly frusteration

a/n: unfortunately for my sanity, i have fallen in love with kol. why? i couldn't tell you. the actor drives me up a fucking wall. but the character? i am down for bad. so here ya go. feel free to request more kol or over tvdu characters!!

↳ masterlist ↳  want to be shipped with a fic character?

[1] First meeting

Magic has existed in New Orleans for as long as anyone can remember. The prevalence of voodoo-- NOLA's most giant "tourist trap"-- originated in 1791 with enslaved West Africans who moved to Louisiana to grow a community for as many free people of color. That spirit meant that many of its inhabitants descended from that original society or were drawn here for its magical properties. Your family was one of the latter, a bunch of witches seeking solace in a place that nurtured it. Except with magic came strife, and eventually, other creatures came knocking at the door. Enter the Mikaelsons, New Orlean's resident vampire family that was always at the center of whatever drama was happening. Right now, something involving all those magically oriented. 

You made it a point to stay clear of the fight. Not because you didn't care– you did– but because it wasn't your fight to be had. That's how you stayed alive in this neighborhood; you knew where to stick your nose and when to stay clear. Besides, all the commotion with one of the Harvest girls (Cassie, you believe her name was) and the witch's distaste of vampires meant tensions were high. You could help the community from the background anyway; you didn't need to make yourself known.

At least, that's what you hoped. But things rarely turned out how you wanted, and this was one of those times. Walking through the back streets of NOLA was never an excellent idea, but it was shorter, and you just wanted to get to the metaphysical supply store before it closed. You needed more laurel leaves to create protection charms around your house, especially with the uptake in strife in the recent year. 

Which is how you came upon a witch killing three vampires in the alley.

You wanted to turn on your heel and leave, but the witch noticed you before you could. You didn't recognize him, so you were unsure what coven he belonged to. He was tall enough to probably tower over you, with golden curly hair and a jaw sharp enough to cut your fingers if you touched it. He was unbelievably handsome, and you hated that it caught your breath.

"You shouldn't be here, luv," he crooned, his English accent thick. He sauntered down the alley, coming up to you with narrowed eyes. 

"I don't recognize you," you countered, shifting your weight as you crossed your arms. It's best not to let him know that you're flustered.

"New in town," he smiled, a cocky grin that told you that he absolutely knew the effect he had on women. It left a bad taste in your mouth. "New Orleans is a big city; I'm surprised you would know everyone."

"I know witches," you said, peering up at him. 

"Ah, are you a magical thing yourself?"

"What do you think?" You arched a brow. He stepped closer, reaching up to twirl a piece of your hair around his finger. You recoiled slightly but didn't pull back. Never show fear; that's one thing this town taught you. 

"I think you're a pretty young thing," he hummed. "I'm Kol." He peered at you as if waiting for you to offer your name. You didn't. 

"Not interested," you pulled back from him, letting the hair he had touched fall back in front of your face. He stepped back into your space.

"I don't know, darling," he smiled, leaning closer so his breath fanned your face. It was minty like he had just had an Altoid. "I think you're interested." You hated admitting that this tall, handsome stranger (such a cliche) was right. And you really hated that if you leaned up slightly, you could feel the warmth from his lips. He stepped back, though, hands in his pockets. The same hands that had used magic to wrangle the undead life of the vampires behind him. You took that as a sign to start to leave, walking backward before turning on your heel and ignoring the gaze of the witch behind you. 

"Never got your name!" He chimed. You smiled to yourself.

"Figure it out yourself."

[2] Cemetery watch

Disgruntled. That's how you felt. Chaos had grown over the past weeks, but you didn't see Kol again. A sliver of disappointment, as you did find him cute, but also a relief. You know enough flirtatious bastards to not want to add more to your life.

You weren't thinking about him today, though. You were thinking about your grandmother, who lived in the cemetery right outside your block. A popular cemetery for Wiccan rituals, it made sense for your grandma (the high priestess of your family) to be buried there with heavy praise. 

You were laying a combination of roses, lavender, and rosemary for protection when the hair on your neck stood up. Feeling a presence, you soon turn around, making eye contact with the stranger who approached you. 

Definitely not a witch; his aura was too dark for that. He was tall, with tousled brown hair and eyes that lingered on you for far too long. He was cute, though, even if he was dangerous.

"Hello darling," he purrs, stalking closer. 

"Can I help you?" You sigh, crossing your arms as you peer at him with suspicion. He wears a cocky smile and a look that tells you he would love to have a taste.

"Don't remember me? I'm hurt," he puts a hand on his chest, feigning pain. You look at him closely, but the only recognition is in the pet name. Darling. Not many people called you darling. 

"Kol," you said. "You're shorter." His face had a hint of shock before settling into amusement. 

"That was uncalled for," he laughed, walking closer to you. In closer proximity, you could see that he was, in fact, very handsome, and he was definitely aware of that. 

"I'm reiterating my previous question, can I help you?"

"When my family sent me on this mission to track down the 'wisest witch in the quarter,' I was not expecting you," he looked down at you with gold-flecked eyes. "The beautiful girl who wouldn't give me her name. Except now I know it's Y/N."

"I thought you were a witch," you took a hesitant step back, trying to create space. 

"Temporarily," he sighed. "Now I'm back in my original form of vampire." The way he said it gave you pause, as if he was resigned to the fact but not happy about it. You could relate. If you lost your magic, you would be devastated. 

"You said something about your family?" you coughed, changing the subject. 

"There's someone working against them, and we would prefer if they don't kill us," Kol shoved his hands in his pockets, looking up at the clouds above. "People tend to hate us, Mikaelsons."

"You're a Mikaelson?" you hissed. It was because of the Mikaelsons your home was in constant disaster. "Why should I help you? Any of you?"

"For the most part, we don't want to cause trouble. It just tends to find us. Helping eliminate a threat means fewer problems in the quarter," Kol sighed, stepping closer. His fingers brushed your cheek, delicate as if touching the grass in a meadow. "Also, you'd get to spend time with me."

"Why would I want to spend time with you?" you breathed, voice wavering slightly. Curse your damn hormones for being swayed by a vampire of all creatures. His thumb came under your chin, allowing him to bring your face closer to his. Kol smelled like fresh snow and evergreens, and you knew that if he leaned a little bit closer, you wouldn't stop him. In the process, likely offend the ghost of your grandmother who was probably rolling her eyes at you right now. Before you could offend all the ancestors with your choices, Kol stepped back, resuming his cocky grin and leaving your breath lodged in your throat. Without a second thought of the implications, you made your decision.

"Fine, I'll help you."

[3] Late night spell-casting

Late nights in the Mikaelson compound meant one thing. Coffee, and lots of it. 

You made a deal with the Mikaelsons after you agreed to help them that in exchange for your time, they had to buy you cafe drinks whenever you liked it. Elijah was the most taken aback, but Kol chuckled as if he found you amusing. Still, they found it a small price, not expecting how much you valued your drinks. Most nights, it was coffee, sometimes tea, or even hot cocoa. Quite honestly, you just liked having the power to make them run around. 

You sat at one of their many couches, a book of shadows in your lap and a notepad in your hands as you made quick notes about possible spells that could combat the evil at hand. A couple of ideas swam in your head, but you wanted to exhaust your options before risking anyone else's life with a botched spell. Still, you had been at it for hours and started getting sleepy. You yawned, feeling your eyes close slightly. Thankfully, footsteps alerting you to the presence of one of the originals had you sitting up and shaking off your fatigue. Unfortunately, that original was Kol with your coffee order. 

Kol was precisely what you thought he would be. Flirtatious, cocky, impulsive, and too attractive for his own good. You hated when murderers were cute; it made life confusing. There were moments, though, when the two of you were performing recon or pouring over spell books that you saw a side of him that only showed when his guard wasn't up. He was calmer, more academic, and a lot more unsure of himself. The only thing you hated about seeing that side is it made you like him more. 

"How's my witchling doing?" he chimed, dropping off your coffee and settling beside you on the couch. You told him that being called darling felt ridiculous, so instead, he found a new nickname, which was even worse. 

"The usual, I suppose," you yawned again, leaning your head against the back of the couch. 

"Take a break."

"You realize it's your life on the line, right?" you huffed, turning to look at him. 

"My life will always be in danger, Y/N," Kol hummed, taking your books out of your lap with a minor protest from you. "That's not going to change tonight."

"Don't underestimate me," you grabbed your cup, taking a deep sip and looking at him over the lid. 

"I would never underestimate you," he grabbed your coffee and stole a sip himself, earning a growl from you. "Half the things you say shock and confuse me."

"It's my charm."

"Let's do something fun," Kol stood up, trying to drag you with him. "Research is bloody boring."

"We have two very different ideas of 'fun,' Mikaelson," you curled up into a ball on the couch, peering up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. An idea sparked in your head, and you turned a devilish smile to the brunette. "How about tarot cards?"

You found an old deck in the compound, creating a space on the table in the central area to lay out the spread. Even though having your cards would be better, you thought you could probably make do with these. You gave Kol the cards to shuffle and watched as he spent meticulous time connecting with the cards before handing the deck back to you. You started laying out the cards on the table, forming a cross with four cards separate on the side. You tucked your legs underneath you, curling up on the floor so you were huddled by the table. Kol joined you, his back against the couch as he peered at you straightening up the cards. 

"You realize you're going to flip them over, right?"

"Shut up, Mikaelson," you chimed, finishing your organization. He watched you with a small smile, and you made the effort to ignore his stare. "We'll start with your Present card."

“Boring,” Kol sing-songed. "Tell me my future."

"I have to go in order, to give an accurate reading."

"Darling, the cards are already laid out; you can do whatever you want," Kol leaned closer to you, squinting his eyes in amusement. "I live my life in futures; who cares about the past?"

Sighing, you decided to obey the nosey vampire and flip over his cards for Future and Near Future. The two cards revealed were the Lovers and Ace of Cups, respectively. 

"In your Future is a strong romantic relationship," you start, pointing out the Lovers card featuring two swans intertwined. "This correlates to the Ace of Cups, which signifies new beginnings. Since the Ace of Cups is in your near future, you'll likely encounter someone you'll soon develop a deep, long-lasting relationship with." You turn your eyes to Kol, raising an eyebrow. "Shocking, considering your personality."

"It's not that shocking," Kol quipped, leaning closer to you. "We're here, aren't we?"

His pupils were enlarged as he gazed upon you, and his glance to your lips told you exactly where his mind was. You couldn't deny you weren't thinking the same thing. It didn't help that Kol was dangerous in an enticing way. Ignoring all rational thought, you leaned in closer, nudging his nose with yours. Your heart was beating erratically, and you heard the sharp intake of breath he took. His fingers traced up your arm, each finger leaving goosebumps in their wake. What were you doing?

"How's the research going?" a voice called from the hallway. You scooted away immediately, but Kol stayed where he was. His jaw clenched as he suppressed a growl. Freya appeared, not aware of the situation and probably not caring anyway. 

"I have a few ideas," you coughed, taking a deep breath to calm your beating heart. 

"Great, I'd love to hear them so I can stop having stressful dreams," Freya chuckled, moving over to the couch. You sent Kol a glance as you passed your journal to Freya. The look he gave you told you that what started wasn't over. And the worst part was you didn't want it to be over. 

[4] Injured after a fight

A headache. That's what you were nursing. 

A sharp ringing pierced through your ears, the lights above you blurring into a bad abstract painting. A figure appeared above you, and you slowly registered that it was calling your name. You squinted your eyes, the action causing a splitting pain as the shape of Kol formed in front of you. Worry creased his brows, and blood splattered his face. 

"Y/N, Y/N, can you hear me?" Kol asked, cradling your head. You nodded, grabbing his arms to help pull yourself up. Chaos was erupting around you, and the stifling smell of magic was enough to knock you out again. That's what had happened. It was an ambush, and despite your abilities, you were blasted back into a wall, probably with a concussion and broken bones. It was times like this when you were envious of a vampire's healing skills. "I need to get you out of here."

"They need our help," you grimaced, catching Klaus ripping off someone's arms in the background. Kol caught your gaze and bothered with a slight smirk. 

"I'm sure Nik is fully capable of handling himself. Plus, my other siblings are here, and Freya called Vincent. They won't miss us."

"I'll be fine," you tried to say, but it ended in a wheeze as the effort of sitting up caused pain in your lungs. 

"You will not. Can you stand?" Kol watched you struggle for a second before picking you up. In a normal situation, you would've complained, but considering all you felt was ow ow ow ow ow you thought better than to complain. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he sped out of the scene and back to the compound. Kol laid you gently on the couch, kneeling before you, biting into his wrist and holding it to your lips. "You need to drink."

"I don't want to be a vampire," you mumbled, brushing a hand across your forehead. Your fingers held blood on them, and you became dizzy with that knowledge.

"I won't let that happen now, drink," Kol insisted, his voice having a hard edge. Considering he was a stubborn bastard, you relented. You hesitantly grabbed his wrist and brought it up to your mouth. The blood slid down your throat cleanly, but you had to suppress the urge to gag anyway since it was blood. You felt your bones click into place, and your headache dull to a memory. You finally looked up, catching Kol's gaze on you. How was it intensely erotic to have someone watch you drink their blood? There must be therapy for issues like this, but you didn't really care. How he looked at you was akin to a predator waiting to devour its next meal. You knew if you let him, he would fulfill every potential vampire fantasy one could have. He touched your cheek, touching your lips where his blood was just a second ago. He pulled away, red coating his fingers, and you suppressed a groan when he sucked the leftover blood. 

"Kol," you whispered, your voice raspy. He sat up at eye level, leaning down as if to kiss you. Of course, things weren't that easy, as his family burst into the compound right at that moment. You wanted to let out a scream of frustration but ended up being caught off guard by Klaus dropping a head by the entryway. 

"Glad to see our little witch is okay," Klaus chimed, looking pretty proud of himself. If Kol were a cartoon character, he'd blow smoke out of his ears. 

"I'm alive," you sighed. Klaus walked over, ignoring his brother's glares, and patted you on the shoulder. That was the closest thing to the affection you were getting from the hybrid. As the rest of the family delved into a conversation about the ambush, you finally got up and looked at the original kneeling on the ground before you. "We'll finish this later," you smiled, pretending to ignore the slight growl that left Kol's mouth as you walked off. 

[5] Evil has passed

"I thought you would've left."

Kol stood in the entryway of his bedroom at the Mikaelson home while you stood (guilty) by his bookshelf. 

"I was returning this book I borrowed from you," you said innocently. Putting the book back on the shelf, you turned to the man before you, trying his best to plaster on a convincing smile. The threat has passed, your job was over, and yet you were melancholy. These people had caused problems throughout your home since they arrived, yet your temporary alliance ending was something of sadness. You were tired of pretending it was for any reason other than Kol. Kol started as an annoying individual who sought to drive you up the wall, but now was someone you saw a kinship with. Your long talks on history and adventures across the globe were moments where you saw his guard fall, and you loved every second of it. It helped that he was pretty to look at. 

"I guess this means goodbye then, doesn't it witchling?" Kol sighed, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. You could swear he sounded disappointed, but you didn't want to get your hopes up. 

"Depends," you crossed your arms. "I could be persuaded to come back."

"Persuaded?" Kol inquired, that mischievous glint in his eyes telling you he would ensure a way to keep you around. "Any particular reason?"

"If someone wanted me around, I guess," you smiled, a tiny grin but good enough for Kol to stroll towards you until he towered over your figure. 

"I'll give you a good reason," Kol murmured, a devilish smirk on his lips. "Something that we kept getting interrupted for in the past." He cupped your face in his hands, lowering his lips so they were a hairsbreadth from yours. 

"Don't be a tease," you breathed. Letting out a dark chuckle, he pressed his lips to yours. It was surprisingly light, not hungry like his usual personality. He tasted like a fresh snowstorm and an evergreen forest, and you know you could get drunk on that alone. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you brought him closer to you, deepening the kiss and earning a light groan from the vampire. Kol's hands tangled in your hair, one of them going to hold your waist. Every touch of his was coldfire, and you were so glad that you were finally alone to burn in him. He tilted your head back, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat that caused you let out a moan. He nipped the junction of your neck and shoulder, kissing over it until he was back at your lips again, leaving a searing kiss. Kol pulled away, glancing at you with eyes abysmal. "What took you so long to do that?" you breathed, a grin covering your face as Kol laughed, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

"You're all mine now," Kol smiled, kissing you again. "Always and forever."

[takes1]

daichi x track team!reader meet-cute

this was really fun and cute to write. love me some daichi. working on an osamu request rn!

warnings. none / sfw info. sfw / fluff / fem!reader / daichi being handsome / sweet daichi / first-year!reader / track team!reader / scaredy-cat asahi / daichi smells good / big hands thirst / 1.6k words 🤍haikyuu collection more links. my ao3 / masterlist / requests open!

"Hey! Volleyball team! Let me see your Captain!"

Many different tones and sing-songy renditions of 'Daichi' sounded, even though he was already crossing the lanes to speak to the track Coach. He waved off his high-spirited team, sparing a glance back to their light warm-up that he left Nishinoya to lead.

Asahi and Suga jumped over to the grass in the center of the field, but Daichi was just stepping into Lane 1 when you came barreling down:

"GET OFF THE TRACK!!" You bellowed with what little air you could afford.

It came out heartless, but with all fairness, was completely called for. This was about to be a PR, you could feel it in your bones.

Daichi stumbled out of the way just in time- he felt a whip of air from your force a second after you were gone, many meters around the curve of the track and gaining distance between yourself and your partner.

The Coach's belly-laughing brought his heart back down.

He tore his eyes away from you and laughed at the situation, much softer and carrying more relief in its resonance.

Of course, a minute after he just grilled his team on staying out of all lanes except for the last two, he gets nearly trampled.

Just now feeling Asahi's iron grip on his upper arm, he patted his fearful friend to reality.

"Man," Asahi blew a shaky breath, "Track girls are so intense!"

Your Coach kept laughing at your ferocity and resolve to not slow down in the face of a great, hulking obstacle in your way.

Suga put his hands on his hips and craned to look at you halfway across the track, snickering, "She was definitely out to get you, buddy!"

He turned to see you already on the other side of the track, in front of your competition by a narrow gap.

"I know she's little, but-" He shuddered at the jet-like wind on his face, "It felt like I was about to get shot, or something."

"That's our (L/n)! She's a pretty promising first-year. On scholarship."

Daichi raised his brows and nodded slowly, impressed, watching you finish 15 meters in front of the guy you were racing.

"Just isn't..." He seethed. They all watched you stumble and wobble to a walk. "-Very polished yet."

You looked a bit pale- chest rapidly rising and falling as you stammered to a pained limp, holding your side. You leaned over the grass, hands on your knees.

"'Ey! Hands over your head (L/n)!! Keep walki- Great."

The Coach began to jog over with superior knowledge.

Daichi scratched his face and looked away as you threw up-- his polite, averted gaze fell to Hinata, who was finishing his race against Kageyama; pale, stumbling, putting his hands over his knees.

"Hinata! Don't-!" He did the same thing all over the concrete. There went a whole lane they needed for practice.

Now they were down to one and Hinata was put out for the time being. Daichi was just a bit too slow on the uptake.

"Hey-!," You were pouring water on the top of your head, one hand on your hip, making your way towards Daichi. Asahi moved back a little, but bumped into Suga and had to stay put.

"'M sorry for yelling at you, man," A glance back to your Coach to make sure he was watching you apologize.

You looked between all of them, still peeved that they were getting in the way when they just got here. "But- seriously."

They all tensed. Some little shrimp being upfront and rude was the last thing they were expecting when they got the chance to train somewhere different. It put a huge damper on their light mood.

Daichi picked up on it quick. Despite everyone being shocked you were so straightforward with their Captain, he stayed cool and carefree with a calculated response.

"Sorry about that, I've already told the team to stay out of your lanes."

Team. I've. 'I've told... the team.' You glanced around again, brain slow to put the pieces together with all the endorphins jumping back and forth. You shook your head with a laugh.

Man, these guys were giant. It hurt your neck to look up at all of them. They all had long arms and legs.

"Wait-wait, you're the... volleyball team. And you're--," You motioned to him with a thrust of your bottle, face steadily sinking, then retracted it slowly, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

Your Captain was crystal clear at the start of practice, emphasizing how important it would be to show courtesy and respect to the Boys' Volleyball Team, since they agreed to share the track today for some joint training.

You made yourself a lot smaller being so apologetic.

"It's okay! It's okay, really, I was right in your way!"

"Oh, maaan," You looked back at your Coach, speaking to your Captain with a not-so-subtle head jerk in your direction, "Oh, fuck..."

Daichi's fast reaction left you shocked and standing alone, a bit weak in the knees, as he jogged over with a friendly, distracting wave to the pair.

You were so fucked. A first-year, yelling at the Captain of another team?

The last time you were in trouble, you got drilled so hard your teammates were scraping you off the concrete like a piece of chewed bubblegum. All you did then was line up the starting blocks backwards.

This? This was a cardinal sin.

The air was starting to feel cold again and when you turned to look at the team he left behind, they were all looming over you like a bunch of titans, ruminating all the ways they would crush you, cook you up, and eat you for dinner. The hair on the back of your neck went stock-straight and you felt your legs start to wobble.

Now your Captain was looking around Daichi with a violent, ruthless glare.

She pointed at you with a firm, crooked finger, mouthed something, then pointed at the ground. You gave a choked sound and slowly put some distance between yourself and the group of giants.

Your Coach's voice was a godsend and the guilty gavel all in one, "(L/n)! Run some 400s 'till I'm tired!"

"Moving!!!" You dropped your bottle where you stood and quickly sprinted away. The more distance between yourself and this judge, jury, executioner shit, the better.

The next morning you had to be convinced by multiple alarms to get out of bed. Your core, quads, calves, shins, ankles, hips-- they were all useless as you dragged your own body to your classroom.

You took the corner slowly because it was simply all you could do, but smashed the side of your face straight into a firm chest.

There was no give, and certainly no question that you were falling first when your legs decided this was the opportune time to give up.

You began to crumble to the floor like a sack of sand, papers flying out of the beat-up notebook in your arms.

"Watch where you're going--!"

The transgressor barely grabbed your wrist, popping it in the process, which gave you a moment to catch his.

Wide, terrified eyes flew up to an pair of kind, deep brown eyes and soft, forgiving, somewhat charmed smile.

You let go at once, opting for a cold, hard hit to your aching glutes instead of being seen anywhere near this handsome, bad-luck charm again.

"We keep just keep bumping into each other," Daichi- you learned his name after having to run a mile for each of the letters- chuckled and lifted you to your feet despite your protests with a startling ease.

Just for a moment, it felt like you were floating, finally a break off of your twitchy legs.

You stumbled forward again, onto his big shoulder, and he gave an apologetic smile, just as hunky as the last, when he realized why you were so clumsy.

His grip firmed at your waist to keep you steady. A bit warm and jittery at the motion, you smoothed out your shirt where his big hands wrinkled it once he let go.

"Thank you," You mumbled, all confidence dissipating when he leaned down to hear you, "For trying to save me."

Another chuckle. He was pretty easy-going, you learned. It helped your nerves when he bent to pick up your scattered papers.

"It's the least I could do," He held his hand up to keep you from leaning down, "Stop- stop, you must be so sore-,"

You blushed hard at his concern and his huge, rough hand. Volleyball guys were super hot.

"It's my fault you got in trouble," Daichi handed you a neat stack of papers.

The bell sounded, a gentle but dreadful reminder that you wouldn't be able to amble your way to your classroom without being late.

"Where's your class? I'll walk you over," He smiled. No bad blood. No worries.

This guy was a breath of fresh air.

It was the best 70 seconds of your day, having a strong arm around your waist, holding a third of your weight while he carried your bag over his opposite shoulder. He smelled like cotton and green tea, his voice a smooth and reassuring presence that quieted your frantic mind.

The late bell rang just as he deposited you at the door. At this point, you didn't want to go to class anymore. He handed you your bag with a kind smile.

"See ya this afternoon."

Your plans to skip practice today were entirely foiled in just four words. You had to see him much more than you needed your legs in operable condition.

masterlist.

requests/submissions are open!

[fallow-hollow]

Aaa! Your Kabru x reader was really nice! May I request a Holm x Reader where the reader helps him when he freezes up in rapid situations?

pick-me-up

…ft! holm kranom x gn! reader

…tags! pre-relationship, fluff, a little banter, reader knows some magic, some magic lore i may or may not have made up

…word count! 1167

…notes! people who are madly in love with side characters are truly god’s strongest soldiers. i hope i characterized your man correctly!!

As close as you and Holm were, neither of you really seemed to idealize one another too much. Being in the dungeon, you had to be aware of all your teammates’ strengths and flaws, regardless of personal opinion. When it came to the gnome you called your closest friend, even he didn’t deny it — he did not operate well under pressure.

Considering that you were in a place where foes could ambush you at any moment, anybody could see why this wasn’t a great quality to have. From being unable to save your friends to even being unable to save yourself, there were a lot of potential consequences to locking in place during the middle of combat. Something had to be done about it sooner rather than later, and if he had to ask someone, he’d rather it be you than anybody else.

The plan was formulated during some downtime the party had — something to stop Holm from going stock still whenever he felt overwhelmed. Luckily, your companion already had an idea for you.

“I figure the easiest way to deal with this’ll be using magic.”

You nodded. Not much of an obstacle, since you already had at least a few spells under your belt.

“As long as you have a rudimentary understanding of magic, it’s not gonna be too hard to get down.” For a moment, the gnome deliberated, wondering how to explain the concept to you. “You know how healing magic can hurt sometimes?”

With a grimace, you shook your head in understanding. Rin and Holm were pretty good about that sort of thing, but there had been more than a few occasions in past parties where healing and injury hurt even more than obtaining it. Seeing that you were familiar with what he was saying, the man continued.

“Well, that’s actually how healing magic is by default. When it doesn’t hurt, that’s because the caster is using a separate spell to numb your sensations.” As you listened, your mouth formed a little ‘o’ shape to show your interest. “Naturally, you can alter people’s sensations with magic in other ways, too.”

“Oh,” you would interject, “so I could use magic to make you more….focused?”

“Not quite, but yes.” At your approximation, he held up his index finger. “I was thinking you could use just a little bit of mana to sort of perk me up, almost like a spike of adrenaline to set me back in motion again.” His hand then lowered, turning over so his palm faced upward. “It’s pretty simple, just transferring mana through touch like you would with a healing spell.”

“I can do that, no problem!”

Ah, he was still looking at you, even after you said that… was there still more he wanted to share? When your eyes wandered down to the hand he held out, embarrassment that you hadn’t realized sooner quickly washed over you.

“Ah, you wanted to practice?” At first, you feared that your slow uptake had caused Holm some annoyance, but the relaxed smile on his face didn’t give way in the slightest. He seemed almost amused, really.

“Guess I should have been more clear about that, huh?”

The smirk on his face let you know that the question was most certainly rhetorical. Answering it would have been a moot point anyway, so instead you pouted and mumbled, “You’re always so snarky with me… not fair.”

Transferring mana was something you were fairly familiar with doing, so you were able to take the gnome’s hand into two of your own with little hesitation. Back when you’d just joined the party, the act of touching him made your cheeks heat up, but exposure to it over time had made the experience far from unfamiliar.

Just remember to envision the flow of the mana, you reminded yourself. Truly feel it, from your head to your toes, through your veins and bones, and out the tips of your fingers. Feel the current connecting you to him…

With your eyes trained on your joined hands, half lidded while you chanted the spell as instructed, you hardly noticed the way your companion’s ears actually twitched and perked up when the incantation was completed. Only when his whole body jolted did you shoot up in turn, concern pooling in your irises.

Said concern seemed to be unneeded, judging from the pleased look on his face. It was one that brought you relief, not just from the knowledge that you’d done well, but from the sight of him alone.

“That’s good, I think you’ve got it.” Even his voice seemed cheerier than before, and you weren’t quite sure if it was from the magic, your success, or both. Nonetheless, it was kind of nice to see his usually laid back demeanor become more enthusiastic from time to time. “So remember, the next time I get stunned in an overwhelming situation, use that if you’re near.”

“Of course!” You grinned, knowing you’d always be neat if you could help it.

That little practice session with Holm had been a few days ago by now. It took quite a while for a situation to actually arise that called for your little backup plan, but you most certainly kept your word.

Perhaps if it was just one stray suit of living armor, Rin or even Daya would’ve been able to dispatch it just fine. But in a whole hallway full of them with no way around, you could only tiptoe past them in hopes that maybe they’d ignore you, or even end up just being normal suits of armor. You should’ve known, of course, that the dungeon is no place for wishful thinking.

When the intimidating armored figures inevitably sprung to life, the first thing you did was look to Holm. Unsurprisingly, he was completely still by your side, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open while he didn’t even shake or quiver.

Just do what you talked about. Transfer the mana as quickly as you can. You may have taken the latter half of that a bit too seriously judging by how, instead of taking his hand like you had during practice, you immediately reached for his face instead.

Only halfway through chanting the spell did you notice the slight tint on his cheeks, likely from embarrassment, and it took everything you had in you to continue the spell without stuttering from your own flustered state. After all, restarting the spell would take even longer, and that was pretty much the exact opposite of what was needed right now.

The second the spell had been completed, the both of you pulled away from one another, invigorated by both magic and embarrassment respectively. You heard Holm utter a quick thanks to you, but you were too busy feeling completely mortified by the way Kabru had just glanced at the two of you, seemingly more entranced by your interaction than the imminent peril you were dealing with.

You’d never hear the end of this, would you?

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive (Daily updates!)

By Elizabeth Hlavinka

“It is critical to maintain, or rebuild where necessary, trust in public health,” the study authors warned

Across the U.S., 35% of adults reported that they did not trust COVID-19 vaccines, without much variation across years 2021-2023, according to a survey published in the journal Vaccine: X this week. Vaccine hesitancy is one piece of a growing distrust in public health exacerbated by the government’s pandemic response that many experts fear will only deepen with the new Trump Administration.

About 81% of Americans got at least one COVID vaccination, which helped the country build up enough herd immunity that most people could return to their daily activities without some of the health interventions like mask mandates and stay-at-home orders that had been issued to keep communities safe. Though the vaccines can have side effects and sometimes harm people, these outcomes are very rare and no match for the damage the virus itself does to the body. The vaccines are considered extremely safe.

Of course, life didn’t go back to normal for millions of people who lost family members to COVID or who are still dealing with debilitating symptoms of long COVID, in which the symptoms of infection can linger for months or even years. In another study published this week, this time in the journal Vaccine, COVID vaccination was associated with a reduced risk for developing long COVID.

The Trump Administration rolled out the vaccines in record-time through Operation Warp Speed, but the expediency of the process, along with misinformation circulating online, left many dubious of them. Mixed messaging from the government also led to the politicization of public health, which added gasoline to an already flaming issue. For example, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) recommended masks while Trump refused to wear one, and the same agency recommended social distancing but Trump encouraged supporters to protest virus restrictions in large groups.

Counties that voted Republican had significantly more deaths from COVID-19 than counties that voted Democratic, in part due to reduced vaccine uptake. The study published this week did not measure how political parties influenced trust in the vaccines, though it did find that trust in the CDC was tied with higher trust in the vaccine. Loss of a family member to COVID was also associated with this trust.

“It is critical to maintain, or rebuild where necessary, trust in public health information sources,” the authors wrote.

[thegildedbee]

:: January 26 :: Selection for Week 5 of 2025:: 🐝 "a case of identity" (1891) from the daily sherlock holmes: a year of quotes* 🖊️

"I think of writing another little monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its relation to crime. It is a subject to which I have devoted some little attention."

[Be forewarned: this one got away from me :-) just a little bit, or, well, maybe a bit more than a little bit . . .] I have a soft spot for Holmes and his highly-detailed and tightly-focused monographs, where he's in his element in a different register than when he's dashing about after clues amongst the populace, or laying out his intellectual cartography for Watson or other auditors. The monographs provide open access to Holmes's trade secrets, to intellectual technologies he "invented," so to speak, and could have sequestered as exclusively his own for a time, the better to dazzle others with his cognitive powers. In the nineteenth century, how to view patent privileges for inventions and proprietary knowledge was in flux, with many members of the public perceiving this practice as monopolistic, and therefore societally harmful. Seen in this light, Holmes's monographs are of a piece with attitudes favoring an ethic that knowledge be held in common, rather than restricted to elites, and are more multidimensional than when they're seen as single-minded exercises in pedantic arcana. As pedestrian as a typewriting machine may seem to us today, when it began being adopted in the 1880s it was a societally disruptive technology (the first commercial model appeared in 1874; there were no manufacturers in Britain so it was initially a luxury item that had to be imported from the United States). Holmes's investigation of the deductive potential of typewriters was therefore a cutting-edge endeavor. Doyle's story pre-dated the first use of typewriter evidence in a legal case by two years; the publication of an actual monograph, Questioned Documents, wouldn't arrive until 1910.

Given the novelty of typewriters as mechanical augmentations of human abilities, as well as their unsettling societal impacts, typewriters as a focus for a mystery story would have had wide appeal. They'd already featured in anxiety-laced supernatural tales of automatic writing by ghostly spirits, as in 1887 with "Mr. Twistleton's Type-Writer." An anthropomorphic twist is at the heart of Holmes's perspicacity in "A Case of Identity": it was assumed that individuals revealed their personalities and identities when using writing implements by hand to inscribe words on a page -- which betrayed the human element. In regard to typewriters, Holmes contends that a similar result occurs, and that the machines acquire distinctive characteristics -- a "fingerprint," as it were -- as a result of the patterns of wear delivered by human operators. He remarks that it is “a curious thing . . . that a typewriter has really quite as much individuality as a man’s handwriting."

Most intriguing to me, however, is how the cultural significance of the typewriter as a gendered object would have been easily discerned by late-19thc audiences when reading between the lines, although for us today, less so. When Miss Mary Sutherland crosses the threshold of 221B, Holmes almost immediately deduces that she has been making use of a typewriter. In this time period, in addition to teaching and nursing, work as a typist had opened up a viable avenue of employment for middle-class women, and "the typewriter girl" was becoming a sociological phenomenon, emblematic of women's increasing desire for self-determination. The office sector had been rapidly expanding, and the typewriter facilitated the uptake of large numbers of women to help service the burgeoning bureaucracies of businesses and the government.

That Mary's step-father feared that she might leave the nest (along with the annual income from her inheritance that he and her mother were siphoning for their own benefit) by arriving at an age where she might succumb to a romantic partnership that would lead to marriage, was indeed a plausible motive for the nefarious actions he undertook. But her step-father's sense of danger regarding Mary's potential to quit the household would have been deemed to be exceedingly urgent due to the independence of "typewriter girls," specimens of which he had surely encountered within his own office sphere, and the ranks of which his step-daughter could readily join, due to her possessing a typewriter of her own, along with the ability to operate it. Indeed, Mary's acquisition of a typewriter indicated both a practical turn of mind, as well as possibly exhibiting an independent streak: she could well strike off on her own, unless the enticement of marriage was kept in view, holding her in limbo, indefinitely. Holmes solved the case, the facts of which were that Mary had been duped by her step-father, who had adopted a disguise and assumed a false identity, enabling him to masquerade as her fiance. Holmes, however, chose to withhold the specifics of the solution to his client; he did inform her that, definitively, her absent suitor would never return, although nothing more. Why he did so is an open question, with paternalism being a likely candidate. But it may well have been that Holmes believed that Mary would benefit by being unencumbered by the past, as she had the means to set off toward a brighter future, with her typewriter as a supportive companion.

At least that was the pathway as would be portrayed in such works as Grant Allen's The Type-Writer Girl in 1897 (in which the protagonist explains that she is opting for a career as a typist, since she wouldn't be able to abide being a teacher, declaring that "I prefer freedom"), or perhaps even as a female typist-detective, a character who would be brought to life in 1903 by Tom Gallon in The Girl Behind the Keys.

In the year after Doyle published "A Case in Identity," J.M. Barrie's one-act play appeared, The Twelve-Pound Look, in which a plot twist reveals that a woman had escaped from her marriage, not to abscond for life with another man, but in order to live a typewriter-enabled life of independence that commenced after she had saved twelve pounds to purchase her own machine. What, however, is the "twelve pound look"? It is, James Joyce reports in 1918, in his "Programme Notes" for The English Players (a theatrical company he co-founded), "that look of independence in a wife's eye which every husband should beware of" (cf an edition of Joyce's Occasional, Critical, and Political Writing).

......................................

[*Levi Stahl and Stacey Shintani, eds., U of Chicago Pr, 2019 ]

and, since (surprising me!) you two asked to be tagged for these extra-curricular ramblings, here's the notification -- thanks for reading :-) 🐝 @totallysilvergirl and @winterdaphne2

[kndhearted]

𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤.

𝒯𝓈𝓊𝓀𝒶𝓈𝒶 𝒯𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒶 was born on March 21 as the only daughter of Hirokazu and Machiko Taira in Kagawa Prefecture, where she experienced a normal and peaceful childhood together with her parents and her grandmother Yen. Her dog Kojiro was always by her side. Even when she decided to go to Tokyo to study, she took her dog with her. She moved into a small, cozy apartment with him, where the two of them made a home for themselves. Just like her childhood, her life was always normal, without any major incidents or exciting twists and turns. It wasn't exactly easy for her to make friends at university, as she was always seen as a wallflower or a bore. However, she always had a strong bond with the few friends she had. Since the attack on her, she has been haunted by recurring nightmares and avoids dark alleyways where there is no way to escape. Since this incident, she has found it difficult to give people a place in her life, trusting someone scares her and so she has built a wall around herself that keeps her safe. Tsukasa also carries a secret that she has never revealed to anyone and that she cannot talk about because it always throws her off course. The once bright young girl has become a woman who is ruled by her fear and nightmares and who seems to have lost her place in this world.

TSUKASA TAIRA; student in in the middle of her twenties, at the Keio University where she studies humanities and geography, gentle, caring and kind-hearted also quick-witted and has relatively good instincts, slow on the uptake when people like her with a short and petite figure, standing at 153 cm, has a scar that starts on the left side of her nose, drags diagonally downward, and stops below her right eye

study in : to be a people pleaser, fighting for others, getting in trouble, being clumsy

(semi active, selective, originated from the anime devils line, open for plotting, do not interact under 21, blog is still under construction)