#and can never claim to be when they still refuse to come clean about the extent of this genocide

[cyanbeetle]

My Canadian followers please never forget that even the “truth” part of truth and reconciliation is a sham because all levels of government still refuse to acknowledge that there were way more than 139 residential schools as they intentionally left those that were provincially or privately funded out of the TRC settlement agreement

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Separate Yandere Malleus (Hubby), Rook (Hubby), Leona (Lazy), Jamil (Babygirl), Azul (Babygirl), Jade (Menace), Floyd (Menace) and Sebek x Female!Tanjiro Reader SFW and NSFW please?

She’s kind, helpful and supportive, always willing to help others and she doesn’t expect anything in return? How cute (Naive), and after getting a taste of her kindness and care, he’s not going to let her go (And is now very territorial/protective of his soon-to-be wife/wifey)

Why can I see Floyd saying ‘Wifey’? (Rook would just make poems upon poems about how much he loves calling her his ‘Darling’ or ‘Wife’ and would violently tremble in joy if she just looks at him Top Tier Romantic/Stalker)

Sorry if that’s a lot, I’m a little knew to asking about Smut Requests (But I love my Twst Men so much, especially Malleus, Idia, Rook, Jamil and Azul, they just need hugs)

This is SMUT, and consensual, despite being Yandere.

Warnings: Yandere, Stockholm Syndrome(?), naive reader, creampie, breeding(?), unprotected sex, all characters are adults, sex with the intention of having children, slight dumbification, Malleus has 1 dick (sorry monsterfuckers), somnophilia in Malleus’s

Leona Kingscholar

You supported him even in his darkest moments, no matter if he was rude to you back. You were there, and the way you would take Cheka when he wasn’t feeling super great really had him appreciating you in a way that he never thought he could before. So, once you had graduated, he asked you if you would marry him.

Of course, this comes from a much darker place in him. He was never going to let you go, even if you refused him. Luckily for him, though, you were in tears as you accepted his proposal, happy to be marrying the love of your life. You were wed rather quickly, with it being a small ceremony, and it was the first time you had seen Leona cry because you just looked so beautiful walking down the aisle. That moment was one you would cherish forever. 

Now, your wedding night was a different story. With how hard he was thrusting up into you, making you see stars. You could feel his cock pounding your insides, and you were thanking every god in existence that you married this man. You were two orgasms in already, and you were approaching a third, while he still had his first to go.

“Look at you, my naive herbivore being fucked dumb.” Just hearing those words made you falter and stutter your movements, but it didn’t stop Leona. He was making you ride him through your orgasm, and you were so sensitive. He let out a groan as he came inside you, saying, “I’m not stopping until you are filled with my cubs, baby, so you better keep going.”

Azul Ashengrotto

He knew you were the one when he showed you his cecaelia form for the first time. Instead of being disgusted or even afraid, you used a gentle hand as you played with the tentacles that were pulling you closer and closer. Eventually, you found yourself face-to-face with the Housewarden, and you threw your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. He immediately reciprocated, and he laid claim to you that night.

Years later, you both were married, and he was a successful business owner. You were in the upper-middle class of the ocean, and you both were talking about starting a family. You were already his housewife, keeping the house clean because you both agreed on it (and because he didn’t want you going anywhere that he didn’t have control over). 

You weren’t about to complain, though, because he had you in the missionary position. It’s a bit basic, but fuck did it feel good. He was desperate; desperate to fill you up, desperate for you to feel pleasure, desperate to push himself to another climax despite the overstimulation. Your legs locked around him as he started releasing ropes of cum inside you, and you had the orgasm of your life.

“I love you, honey~” Your voice was strained after about two hours of moaning. He laid down next to you, and you laid your head on his chest. He started drawing patterns on your back, and he said I love you in return. You leaned up and gave him a kiss on the lips, and then trailed it down his chest… lower and lower, until round 2 was started.

Jade Leech

You were his the day you burst into Azul’s office and demanded that your friends be let go of their contracts. Hardly anybody would have that amount of confidence, and he found himself obsessed. He’s stalking you, he’s making sure his brother knows that you are his territory and his alone. You could always smell that he was there, as he didn’t know about your keen sense of smell. But, you didn’t mind it.

Years later, you both were married, and it was an interesting marriage. Your in-laws absolutely adored you, Floyd tolerated you, and Jade was still as obsessed with you as he was back in your NRC days. In fact, he wanted to give you a reason to stay forever, so he brought up the idea of having kids. You had many siblings back in your home world, which you never found a way back to, so it was understandable that you would want a big family yourself.

So, that’s how you got here, you being folded in half, your legs being pressed to your shoulders as he pounded you into oblivion. For the past 4 hours, you have been in every conceivable position you can think of, and this was going to be your final one. If you wanted a big family, that is exactly what you were going to get.

“Darling, how many kids do you want? Do you have an exact number? Or am I going to fuck you and keep you full of children until you say that you don’t want anymore?” Just the thought of having so many kids made you orgasm. You realized that you wanted to be with this man for the rest of your life, and you wanted to be surrounded by a family that the both of you created, and you were definitely going to enjoy the process to achieve your newfound dream.

Floyd Leech

He claimed you as his also the day you walked into Azul’s office, as no one ever had the courage, bravery, or stupidity to do it. When he went to squeeze you, you wound back enough to headbutt him, making him drop you. From that point on, you had become his new obsession. You were the only one who could beat him in a fight, so it was kind of obvious that this would happen.

As much as you Floyd simps would probably want to be married to him, he’s just not that big on marriage. He’s not that big on commitment in general. However, he knows that he’s committed to you because he wants you to be committed to him. Plus, any thoughts against marriage flew out the window when he saw you stretching and yawning.

Hours later, your neck was covered in bite marks, some a bit bloody, but he just licked it all away as his cock was buried inside your cunt. He had cum inside you about 2 times by now, and your muscles were sore from being contorted into a multitude of different positions. He had a newfound need to make you his little wifey who was stuffed with his kids 24/7.

It wasn’t until there was a bit of a bulge in your stomach from all the cum he had released when he pulled out of you. You were on the verge of unconsciousness, but you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you close. His body was warm, the final lull to sleep that you needed. It was a rare but sentimental Floyd, where he watched you, in such a vulnerable state… marriage is the best option to make sure you are his.

Jamil Viper

You were the first thing he could actually call ‘his’. He did not have to give you to Kalim, and he was never going to let that happen. In fact, during his overblot, he made his feelings known to you by keeping you at his side. However, you wanted your Jamil, not the one controlled and bound by the ink. After, in the infirmary, he asked if what you said still rang true, and that was where you had your first kiss.

Skip to years later, and you both were married. He still works for the Al-Asim family, but you couldn’t ask for a better husband. He has told you about his hesitancy towards having children of his own, as they would most likely serve the Al-Asim family as well. You understood, but you still wanted to have children with him. He told you that you could have one child for now, and see where it went from there.

Round 1 started right then and there, in your kitchen. He bent you over the counter, railing you from behind. Before, whenever you both would have sex, he would use protection. This time, though, he went in raw, and it was the first time ever that you both truly felt each other, and damn did it feel euphoric. You couldn’t even think anymore.

Of course, this was not exactly a fitting place if you were going to conceive your first child. So, he picked you up into his arms and carried you to your shared bedroom once you had your first orgasm of the night. There were many more to come (get it?) and you were barely getting started. You will not be able to walk for two days, and you will be walking out with hickies… mostly in between your thighs.

Rook Hunt

When he first discovered you, he immediately started stalking you. However, he wrote you sonnets, limericks, and poetry of other sorts for your eyes and ears. He sang your praises, and to lastly win over your heart, he serenaded you properly, under your window. You told him to wait there, and you ran downstairs and glomped him, making out with him on the ground. If it weren’t for his desire to make your first time special, you would have probably conceived a child right then and there.

However, he did wait until marriage… which was less than a year after you graduated. He had a steady income, and he already had a cottage in the forest in the Shaftlands. He always had a fantasy of a big family in a cottage, being a hunter and having his beloved wife by his side as an equal in the home. He cherished you, making sure that he provided for you in every way you needed. You became a housewife, as you would like to be there to take care of your children.

Speaking of, not a single night has passed since your wedding night where you haven’t fucked like rabbits. Sure, you both were still young, but you had been talking about this since you both were in NRC. You felt like you were ready to take on the challenge of rabbits. So, every night, you were filled with his cum. You were claimed as his, with all the hickies all over your body, with the sinful stretch his cock always seemed to give you… it was heaven in Twisted Wonderland.

It did not come as a surprise that you fell pregnant merely a few weeks after your wedding. The news made your beloved hunter so excited. Now, you could never leave him for your world. You had children that tied you to him. During your pregnancy, he is a devoted lover. He makes sure all your needs are met, and that includes the needs that are in the bedroom.

Malleus Draconia

You were his first friend outside of his retainers. You showed him kindness, and you were not scared of him at all. That alone made his draconic instincts want to kidnap you and keep you all to himself. However, he was able to hold off just a little, and you came to him on your own. The rose you had presented him with remains preserved, even years later, as it is a token of your love for him. He was a bit delulu, but aren’t we all?

It was a big request to ask you to marry him, as you would become the queen of a great nation of mostly fae folk. However, you were up to the challenge, and the people loved you. However, there was great pressure for an heir. Again, you were up to the challenge, but you discussed it with your husband first. You both concluded on a large family, so that the children wouldn’t grow up isolated (and totally not because Malleus wanted to see you round over and over again).

That night, all the staff had been advised to vacate the corridor in which your shared chambers resided, as you were not able to quiet yourself. You went a total of 8 rounds, one of which you were passed out for, but gave him the ‘okay’ to fuck you through that brief nap. Any chance of walking was out of the question. You could barely lift your head, and you had to be tended to by maidservants for a week. Unfortunately, Malleus couldn’t tend to you himself, as being the King meant that he was busy.

The entire realm rejoiced at the news of your pregnancy, and you had the world’s best doctors at your disposal. Everyone was concerned about making sure that the heir survived to take the throne, but they were also a tad worried about them being half-fae and half-human, as it meant that their lifespan would be shorter than a typical fae’s. Neither you nor your husband cared, however, as you were just happy to start a new chapter of your lives together.

Sebek Zigvolt

His pride denied him the pleasure of accepting his feelings for you in the first place, and he instead wrote anonymous poems for you that he would leave at your desk. You had no idea who it could be, so when someone claimed it was them, Sebek shouted that it was he who wrote the poems and not the plagiarist. He looked like he was about to fight the poor unfortunate soul, but you placed a kiss on his cheek, telling him that you accepted his feelings and not the other person’s.

About the topic of marriage… he would prioritize being a knight first. However, when he sees a time in his career, he will definitely get married to you. He enjoyed that he was in Briar Valley often and he just needed to train new recruits, and he would return home to you cooking dinner. As for children, the topic would blurt out of his mouth as you voiced your sadness about being lonely. You loved the idea, and as irresponsible as it was, the way you looked at him with newfound dreams in your eyes, he carried you to the bedroom and started right away.

You had discovered that Sebek had a hidden breeding kink, and he loved seeing your face as he came inside you over and over. The husband you thought you knew was giving into the primal instincts deep within him, and you were loving it. His fangs had made their mark all over your neck and shoulders, claiming you despite the ring on your finger showing you were taken.

The Zigvolt family, as well as Lilia, Silver, and King Malleus, were all excited when you announced your pregnancy. However, only the two of you would know what sinful things took place for this to happen. Know that this is not your only child, even if you don’t actually have another one. He wants at least two, and he is willing to adopt.

[specialagentartemis]

I have a different post in the works about Maddie not having children in the "Masters of All Time" timeline - it makes the emotional dilemma about whether Maddie should help Danny repair and reset the timeline straightforward and clean, but the thing is, the premise that "Masters of All Time" gives us is a FASCINATING and potentially really anguishing emotional dilemma if the writers were allowed to acknowledge it.

Maddie isn't happy in the MoAT timeline. When Danny shows up in her timeline, frantically trying to explain to her that he's her son with Jack Fenton from a different timeline, she accepts and embraces this explanation pretty quickly. It feels like she wants to believe it - she wants to believe that if things had gone differently, she would have married Jack, had children, had a ghost-hunting career she could be open and proud about. Everything Danny offers to her is something she wants more than what she has - a husband who has been lying to her, who dislikes ghost stuff and disapproves of her ghost research, so she has to do it in secret and hide it from him.

Something that goes totally unaddressed: Danny, her son from a different timeline, is a ghost. He's dead.

Never once does anyone stop to wonder what it means that her teenage son is a ghost.

And I know it's because Hartman & co. refuse to let anyone acknowledge that ghosts are dead people... but imagine they did.

Maddie Masters is... happy enough, she guesses. She married her college friend, and he is her friend, and she's not opposed to this. He doesn't support her work, but, well. She deals. She has her basement ghost research lab, even if she has to keep it secret from Vlad. She lost touch with Jack decades ago, and still regrets that, but that happens, sometimes, and his grievances aren't unfounded. She doesn't have children.

And then a ghost boy claiming to be her son shows up, and tells her that in a different timeline, the timeline that should have happened, she married Jack Fenton, she has two children, she is is out and proud about her ghost research and ghost-hunting and Jack enthusiastically collaborates with her on it. He tells her she's happy.

He doesn't tell her how he died.

And Maddie has a heartbreaking choice to make. Does she help him make this reality happen, restore time to how it's "supposed" to go?She wants to believe him, to believe in this alternate history where things went differently and she got the life she wanted! She has a wacky house full of Ghost Contraptions, a husband who loves her and supports her and collaborates with her, and two children she loves.

... and one of those children is going to die when he's 14. That comes with this choice.

Can she live with that? Consciously make this timeline happen, knowing she's going to have this child and then see him die.

It puts me in mind of one of the major emotional through-lines of "Story of Your Life" by Ted Chiang, the story of a linguist who makes contact with aliens and learns their language that allows her to see all of time at once, where it will go, what the outcomes of events will be. She sees her daughter dying. She knows from the moment she has this child that she will die in a rock-climbing accident in college. She sees it all at once, her whole life, and makes that choice to have a baby anyway.

I think MoAT!Maddie should have to consciously make a similar choice, and have similar feelings about it. Unlike the protagonist of "Story of Your Life," she doesn't know how it will all go. She only knows it as Danny tells her, and she herself won't really experience this, going forward. But she, another version of her, will. And Danny doesn't explain the halfa thing or the portal accident or anything, leaving Maddie to have to make her own hypotheses about what her alternate-life's future holds, about the grief that's going to come with the love, and make that choice to make it happen anyway.

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

Sub!Matt HC’s

-M.S

▐ Sub!Matt who: can’t ever keep his hands to himself. No matter what you’re doing, or where you are. Not only in sex, but he’s just always got his hands on you.

▐ Sub!Matt who: acts all that— until he’s underneath you. Then he’s whimpering and whining, throwing out apologies, begging you to stop, knowing good as hell he doesn’t want you to.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Loves it when you ride him. Weather that be gentle or rough, he loves it when you bounce on him, slamming down onto his cock.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Hates to admit he’s a sub. Even though he and everyone else knows he is, he refuses to admit it.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Begs you to leave hickeys, but then pouts about it the next morning, claiming his fans would see, and his brothers would make fun of him.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Loves being bossed around. He acts like he hates it, but he loves it, and you know. That’s why you always boss him around. Telling him exactly what to do in a firm and demanding voice.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Always begs. Even when you don’t ask him to, he always does. “Please, please, please let me cum!” As if you denied him the privilege, knowing you didn’t.

▐ Sub!Matt who: is VERY vocal. He’s loud, he cries, he whines, anything to make noise. His moans are so loud, even his brothers occasionally make fun of him for it, like texting him ‘if ya gon moan at least be on top buckaroo. ur gross kid’

▐ Sub!Matt who: Tries to be punished. He likes it when you’re rough on him, but he’s scared to upright ask you, so he thinks that so long as he’s a brat, he’ll get punished- and he’s right.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Wants to please everyone. This kid takes subspace to a whole other level, wanting to accommodate to everyones’ needs, being touchy and whiny to the people he’s close with. You think it’s adorable.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Always wants to please you. You always claim he comes first, but he throws a fit and pouts. He always wants to make sure you feel good too, weather that be his cock, fingers, or mouth.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Is subconscious of cumming first. He’s not sure why, but he always insists you cum before him, no matter what.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Can’t sit still. You tie him down all the time to still his movements, but it doesn’t work. He always finds a way to jerk his hips when he’s overstimulated or needs more.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Hates to say it, but loves to be edged and overstimulated. He loves crying and withering under your touch, his body betraying his mind when he begs for more.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Always wants to go round for round. Its easier for him to say, since he’s not doing as much work as you, but the kid wants to go forever.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Always tells everyone how good his girlfriend is in bed. He never brings up the fact that he’s a sub, he just states she’s amazing and knows what she’s doing. You love it, but it can get embarrassing at times.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Acts dominant when others are around. Even going as far as grabbing your throat or slapping your ass when you don’t do as told, even though he know’s he’ll get punished for it later.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Is always needy. Watching a movie on the couch with his brothers? He’ll grind on your leg under the blanket. At a party? He’ll sit you on his lap, grinding your ass into his crotch, hiding his face in your neck. At dinner? Under the table. This man needs your touch anywhere.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Claims he hates public sex, knowing good as fuck it turns him on so fast. Trying on a new lingerie set? He gets fucked in the dressing room. Sees you in a bathing suit? He gets fucked in the water. Stressed after a meeting? Gets fucked in his car.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Loves making a mess. He hates cleaning it up, but seeing his- or your- cum all over the bed, his and your body, he loves it.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Pouts to you when Chris or Nick tease him for being a sub. ‘Ma! Tell ‘em to stop!’ He whines. ‘Matty, they were telling you to pipe down next time.’ You scold, but he whines again, shoving his body into yours.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Complains about you calling him pet names in public. “Baby, c’mon.” you urge the boy. “Hey! Shhh!” He shushes, covering your mouth with his hand. “What, hun?” You ask, pulling away from his hand. “No!” He growls, his cheeks turning red. “Matt!” You gasp.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Is so embarrassed when you compliment him. “You look very pretty today, pretty boy.” You hum in his ear, and his eyes widen and his cheeks flush red.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Has a love-hate relationship with teasing. It depends on how bad he needs you, but sometimes you take too long for his liking, causing the boy to almost cum untouched.

▐ Sub!Matt who: Secretly loves it when you drag him around. “Matt. Come.” You demand, grabbing the boy’s collar on his shirt, and he allows you to drag him around. “Stand up, Matt!” Chris jokes.

『 ↳✧･ﾟ Finn yaps❕ ;

IM SORRY IF THIS ISNT GOOD THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING HCS PLEASE GIMME FEEDBACK🙏🏻

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ I do NOT give permission for my work to be published on any other site, nor to be claimed as your own . However , reblogs , likes , and comments are much appreciated ! 🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso @tillies33ssss @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @75sturn @slut4mattsturn

[echantedtoon]

Lmao, so this one is going to be a crazy!

Reader who in fun tries to summon a demon with her friends and ends up proposing a marriage to the demon in joke. Nothing happens. But as soon as her friends left and she is left cleaning there, the demon actually appears and accepts her offer and refuses to leave. The demon is serious about the proposal and considers her his wife. She eventually gives and by time they do adjust and actually end up falling for each other??? (Btw, the demon is only visible to those he wishes to see him. So whenever reader goes to work he accompanies her.)

(you can choose any one between Kokushibo or Akaza to write for this. And I'm sorry if it's too much to ask or causes any issue-)

HERE YOU GO!!

(warning for demon summoning if that makes you uncomfortable. I just made up some stuff for this based off video games where that happened hope that's ok.)

"Let's summon a demon!"

A thunderstorm rolled across the sky that night. The sun was just setting over the horizon with the last few rays of daylight disappearing but it was hard to tell when the dark storm clouds took over the sky and claimed them as their own. Thunder shaking the lanes of the windows and lightning sounded off like an angry whip from whatever deity was angrily stomping around the clouded skies, lighting up the sky and city below for nothing but a brief second.

It would've been absolutely dark if you hadn't lit up a few candles inside the comfy room and placed them on the table to light up the room. The warm light comforting against the scary night sky that just appeared as the last few daylights were chased away. The candlelight was pretty but you might be asking yourself one question. Why are you using candles to light up the room when you can just turn on the light switch on the wall or use a flashlight like a normal person?

Well because it wasn't your idea. It was your friend's. 

If it were up to you, your bedroom light would've been on in an instant and you four wouldn't be sitting here in the dark. But as another thunder clap shook the sky outside, her face had scrunched up into a mischievous grin wide enough to let the other three ladies around her know that she had come up with a devious idea. It started when of your friends said that they were bored during the usual sleep over activities and so you suggested watching a scary movie instead! 

"How about The Death Book?"

"What's it about?"

"It's about this girl who finds this blank diary and everything she writes in it becomes true! It turns out the diary is possessed by a demon who becomes obsessed with her and grants her wishes with horrible twists!"

That's when your most devious friend gotten that look before hijacking the convo. "I have a better idea! Y/n, you have any candles?"

"Only scented candles. Why?"

"That'll work! Go get them all and we'll do something that's actually thrilling!"

You had no idea what she was talking about but decided to humor her and go get them and matches she asked for. You had a few scented candles collecting up space in your closet, most were Christmas gifts you were just planning on regifting that year anyways since you never really used them. But you were curious about what your friend was up too so you grabbed up all the bars, the different scents making your nose snort, and brought them out to everyone watching you take them out of your closet and plopping them down on your bed. Your friend then proceeded to grab a glass jar containing a 'holiday sugar cookie' scented white candle, lit it, and then got up to turn off the lights and ask you to close the curtains. 

Oh! She wanted to do the classic ghost story telling in the dark game! Nope. As soon as you turned around and you along with your other two friends looked at her, the statement left her mouth.

"Let's summon a demon!"

The three of you stared at her and her smile lit up by the scented candle, a nice scent of sugar cookies in the air. The only sounds being the thunder still rumbling outside. Eventually one of you broke the weird silence.

"You mean like...Use a ouija board? That's something everyone does at sleepovers-"

"No! I meant actually summon a demon!," she corrected excitedly clenching a fist!

"Uh..Have you lost your dam mind?"

"Oh come on! We all know that ghosts and stuff don't exist anyways!" She waved a hand dismissively. "We've tried using a ouija board since we were ten but nothing ever happened so why not try taking it up a notch!"

"Because it sounds like a waste of time." You deadpanned raising a brow. "Why go through all the effort to do something when we already KNOW that it's just stupid Hollywood stuff?"

"For the thrill of it!" You three looked at each other. Two of you having bored looks while the third looked worried. "Come on! Just this once! And if nothing happens I'll pay for two pizzas from that pizza place we all like!"

"...Throw in those chicken tenders and a couple sodas and you have a deal," your bored friend bluntly stated.

"DEAL!"

"I don't know.." Your friend that looked worried frowned. "This is how a bunch of horror stories start. What if something really happens?"

"PSH. It won't. If nothing happened when we used a ouija board then we got nothing to worry about!"

"And you just magically happen to know how to summon a demon how?"

"Not just a demon!" Her hand pointed up as she grinned. "A Yokai!"

"A yo-..What?"

"A Yokai! Or oni if you prefer to call it that instead! It's a Japanese spirit!"

"We know what that is! And you happen to know that how?"

"During my culture studies at school I was studying the local folklore and stumbled onto an old legend of the area! They say that a night monster used to roam the lands and strike down people every full moon until a shrine was put up for him. It's still there now! I visited it during a school trip!" She explained excitedly. "I did an interview with the caretaker for my extra credit report and it turns out his family's descendants of the shrine maidens that used to be there!"

"That's good and all but that still doesn't answer my question."

Your friend groaned loudly and slumped her shoulders with an eye roll. "He said the shrine maidens used to have a symbiotic relationship with the specific oni. They'd perform a ritual once a year on a new moon or full moon to summon him and leave him really good offerings. If he liked it enough he might grant you something in return!"

"And he told you how to summon this thing?"

"Yeah because he didn't believe in it. I don't either since ghosts and goblins only exist in books and movies. But what's the harm? If nothing happens I'm buying everyone food and we can have a good laugh if we do happen to summon something we might get a wish granted! Whaddya say?"

There was more silence from you three until your bored friend sighed and rolled her eyes from where she sat. "Fine I guess. Sounds like a win win situation. And I wouldn't mind getting an A on my next math exam."

You sighed. "Alright. Let's just get this over with."

"That's the spirit! But first thing's first!.. Does anyone know if it's a new or full moon tonight?"

Your nervous friend, who still looked nervous, had to pull out her phone and look it up online. The glow of the screen making her face light up in the dark as the thunder still rang out and the first few raindrops began hitting the roof of your home.

"Full moon b-b-but does it count if the storm is blocking out the sky?"

"He only told me it has to be a full of new moon, not that you had to see the moon. We're also gonna  need right white candles to represent the right moon phases, something red to draw the symbols in, and an offering from each of us that has some kind of connection to our wishes!" Her eyes lit up in excitement. "Let's try it out!"

If it got you free food and your rowdiest friend to be quiet, then you weren't going to complain. So you four got to work. A friend found an extra red lipstick when she dug out her bag and like you said before, you had a bunch of scented candles you weren't using....but that begs the question.

"Does scented candles even count?" You gazed down at two white scented candles with the scents labeled 'fresh morning snow' and 'shortbread blast'. 

"He just said that the candles had to be white, not that they couldn't be scented."

"Yeah. But there's another problem. I only have seven white candles. .." Your eyes looked around the mini candle collection. The others were different colors like the red one that smelt like cinnamon and the purplish-black one labeled 'midnight lilacs'. Eventually you found a glimmer of white in the limited darkness with only your phone to see, and pulled out a candle that was half white half brown labeled 'chocolate and vanilla delight'. "I got a brown and white one. Does that count?"

"We're gonna have to make due with it. Well just put the white half facing the center and maybe that'll help."

Well if that's all you had then you four really were going to have to make due with what you had on hand. One friend helped you cleared up space in your room at least a yard and a half clear, while your devious friend drew red lipstick marks onto your floor and the fourth began placing the candles in a circle around her lighting them up as she went until both stepped away and you four were left looking down at the circle of eight candles and three symbols in the center of them. Lightning clashed outside behind the curtains barely lighting up the room but you managed to make out three words written in Japanese kanji in red lipstick.

Upper. Moon. And One.

You didn't know what that meant but it was ominous in your eyes. The room smelt far too heavy with the pretty scents of sugar cookies, vanilla, daisies, and a few other scents. It was overwhelming and one of you snorted from it all.

"Dam. It smells like someone spilt the entire isle of Fabreath from Wallace-Market in here." She waved a hand before pinching her nose and turning to her. "So what now?"

"Now we put down an offering related to what we want to wish for? Like if you wanted to wish for a million dollars you put down like some rare collector coins or something! Just look around and see what you got!"

While the others looked through their bags, you mindlessly searched around the room for something meaningless you could just throw meaninglessly into the circle. Your eyes gazed over at your jewelry box...and you shrugged. Why not? You had a pair of thick hooped silver earrings your uncle gave you for your birthday last year. They were even real silver, just cheap copper ones painted to look silver. You never wore them anyways so they'd be perfect for this. You opened up the lid narrowing your eyes into a squint. Despite the light of your phone, it was hard to see in the dark. Your hand moved things around inside the box. Old necklaces and things jingling until you saw them. Ah! There they were! Right next to your great grandparents' wedding rings. Now THOSE were actually worth a lot. Real gold and studded with real diamonds. You inherited them box along with their old jewelry box but that didn't matter right now. You wanted the useless tacky earrings next to them. Even now most of the shiny silver paint had peeled off revealing the cheap copper hoops underneath.

"C'mon Y/n! Hurry up! I want that pizza as soon as possible!"

You looked around mindlessly just reaching in and grabbing two round things into your hand. "Coming!"

"What did you grab?" Her brow rose as you just rolled your eyes. 

"Just some old jewelry. What about you?"

She held up an ink stone. Probably got it from her school bag. "I was gonna use it for an art project but since I want an A for my exam and I have to write on the test, it was a good enough match."

"Sounds like a good start."

Your other two friends pulled out a book on rare poetry and a small bag of store bought mochi candy. ...Strange offering but you guessed it was the only thing that they could find. Your friend instructed you all placed the offerings on the strange words in Japanese and stepped back without a second thought to look at them....And you four stood there in your pajamas with nothing but the candles to light up the darkness and the rain still pounding at your rooftop.

Silence other than the storm rang out and you four looked around the room exchanging looks sometimes.

".....Is that it?"

"I told you it was a waste of time! Let's just get some food now. I'm starving!"

"Wait! I forgot about the last important step!" She held up her hands as your mutual grumpy and hungry friend turned to go flip on the light switch. "I need to chant the incantation and then we have to say what we want!"

Her arms folded. "Well get on with it! I'm hungry and this is really not fun!"

"Alright, alright! Let me try to remember what the guy told me!"

She stood there staring at the mess of lit candles and lipstick smeared kanji scrunching her brows in deep thought. You and your grumpy friend exchanged mirrored deadpanned looks before she cleared her throat and held her arms out.

"Full moon on the rise. New moon hides from eyes. Abyss of darkness conquering the skies! We summon, summon him from the ground. To our circle lit and round. Oh one who walks the path of Moon, we come once more to ask you soon! Come from slumber, to seek out what we offer! Great one of Moon bound light, we ask for you to once more walk the night!"

Her voice shouted out loud enough that you were sure you'd be getting a complaint from the neighbors tomorrow morning. As she finished her chant, a lightning bolt struck out temporarily lighting up the sky outside as the rain poured out...As you all waited looking around more.

"Would you look at that? Nothing happened again. NOW can we get food?"

"Wait! We didn't say what we wanted yet!," she protested to her, "The wish is a part of the ritual so let's complete it ok?!" Your friend groaned but she quickly excitedly exclaimed. "I wish my mom would finally give me the secrets to famous udon recipe so I can start selling it myself!"

"Um..." You nervous friend cautiously and worriedly looked around the dark room. "C-Can I m-meet my favorite author please? O-Only if that's ok! I'm fine if nothing happens really!"

"Oh what the hell. I want an A on my next exam."

...All three looked at you expectantly. "What?"

"Say something, Y/n." 

"Like what?"

"I don't know. What did you put down?"

You shrugged. "Some cheap jewelry I don't want honestly."

"OOOH. Wish for something good then! Oh! Oh! I see you always sitting by yourself! Ask him to get you a boyfriend?," you friend teased making you laugh.

"Really? We summon a Yokai just for me to ask him for a boyfriend? If he was real, he'd probably think I was crazy."

"Well it doesn't have to be a boyfriend. You can ask for a sign of who you're meant to be with." That devious smile returned again. "Y'know that caretaker guy told me a lot of maidens would pay the shrine maidens to do rituals and summon the onis as offered brides in exchange for good fortune for their villages. Why don't you ask him to put a ring on it? You'd be the first person to be get a real life monster boyfriend. All the monster lovers on the Internet would be so jealous."

"Plus you're beautiful," your grumpy friend added also with a teasing grin. "You made home coming and prom queen in highschool!"

You laughed again. "Looks aren't everything." You could barely contain the giggles. You then rolled your eyes sarcastically. "But sure." Your hands clasped together and pressed against your chest as you spoke. "Oh great Oni please hear my pleas for your heart!" Even your nervous friend giggled along now as you dramatically fell to your knees. "Bind our blood in ceremony and let me share your name." A hand outstretched to no one as you fake acted out processing your love to an invisible imaginary person. "Under the stars of the heavens, I solemly swear, that this hand will always be kind and never cruel. That my voice will only speak truth. That this life is now forever yours." The outstretched hand pretended to take the imaginary person's hand. "Now as yours is mine."

A loud snort went off as one of your friends fell back on your bed where she sat giggling out the cheesy lines you were making up on the fly.

"Bind our souls to infinity and I will promise you love and devotion through sickness and health and beyond the realms of death." You continued to speak remembering some lines from a rom com chick flick you saw last night. "I will love you in all your forms now and forever. Through several lifetimes and back." Your voice was low and smooth now speaking it like you meant it with pride. "From now to infinity. Unyielding. Untainted. Undeniable. With this voice I promise you my love and heart. With this offering, I ask you to be mine!" You then bowed your forehead to the floor as everyone continued to giggle loudly. 

You all continued to laugh and laugh and laugh as you finally broke into laughs again too and sat back up- 

And then all the candles went out at the same time.

Pitch black immediately enveloped the room and at once all laughs ceased. Nothing but silence rang out other than the rain and thunder and occasional strike of lightning. You four stayed silent as you all say there in the dark before your friend became grumpy again.

"Ok. Haha. Very funny, Y/n. Now we can't see shit!"

"That..w-wasnt me," you stuttered out staring at the floor in front of you silently and wide eyed.

"Sure it wasn't. You're literally kneeling in front of them!"

"I don't have the ability to blow out right giant candles at once! Besides some of them were out of my reached! I'd have to crawl over! It wasn't me!" 

"Well it's not me! I'm standing up!"

"It wasn't me!" "I'm sitting all the way over here on the bed."

Silence fell Once Again as you all sat there 

"....It must've just been a draft! There's no such thing as ghosts and demons! Get the light! I'm tired of this game now!"

Someone was heard stumbling and shuffling around in the dark before you heard hands patting along the wall and then a serious of clicks as someone tried turning on the lights. "It won't turn on!"

"No one panic!" Someone finally turned on the flashlight on their phone and lit up the room. "The storm just cut out the power supply. Let's just get some food and call it a night!"

"Wait! The offerings!"

The light shines towards the middle of the circle. One bag of mochi candy, an ink stone, and a book still laid there. Where was your earrings? You pushed the book aside and froze as you realized that it wasn't a cheap pair of earrings that greeted you..but one beautiful gold ring. 

"My great grandmother's ring!" You quickly snatched it up safely into your hands in horror. "I-I must've grabbed them by mistake!" Wait. You remembered feeling two hoops in your hands. "My great grandfather's ring!" Quickly you pushed aside everything else and was horrified to discover that it was gone. "IT'S MISSING!!"

"Calm down. It must've rolled away or someone accidentally kicked it in the dark. It's still around here."

"Yeah. And so is everything else. I CALLED IT! I TOLD you it wasn't gonna work! Now order the food!"

"B-But my ring!"

"It's too dark to look with the power out. Let's just wait until it's day time and then we'll look around. Ok?"

"I-...*sigh* Alright."

"GREAT! Now let's eat. And don't forget the chicken and drinks!"

Little did all of you know that the curtains were moved back on their own. Six eyes staring at your beautiful face and a glittering gold band wrapped around his ring finger.

[sugarandspicewriting]

girl, you should definitely write something about luke letting you do his make up, please! i'm begging you!

Lipstick Kisses

Summary: Luke brings you a snack after missing you at breakfast, but finds himself getting a makeover instead.

Warnings: Fem Aphrodite!Reader. Fluff.

A/N: Here is the fic I mentioned. I’m also spreading my peel and orange for your lover agenda.

The Aphrodite cabin was filled with a soft morning light. You sat on one of the intricately carved wooden stools in front of the vanity you had claimed as your own when you were claimed by your mother. One of the best things about the Aphrodite cabin? Mirrors surrounded you, a luxury unique to this cabin. You had woken up late due to a late night rendezvous with your boyfriend, Luke the previous night. When faced with the decision of getting breakfast or looking good for the day, you decided that sometimes sacrifice was necessary for beauty.

No one could say you weren’t your mother’s daughter.

As you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup and mentally preparing to start your day, you heard footsteps coming up behind you. You were expecting one of your siblings to be teasing you for your not-so-stealthy reentrance last night. Instead, you were met with Luke voice.

“Figured you didn’t show up at breakfast because of last night, so brought you something to eat.” He spoke softly, not wanting to break the quiet morning atmosphere.

You smiled at him, not wanting to make too much noise yourself. Luke sat down on your bed and began to peel the orange he brought for you while you finished up your makeup, feeding you orange slices occasionally.

After finishing your morning routine, an idea stuck you, and you turned to look at Luke who had busied himself with cleaning up the orange peels. “Luke,” you called out, barely covering the excitement in your voice. “You’ve watched me do my makeup before, yes?”

He looked up at you, not sure where you were going with this, but the sparkle in your eyes made him ready to go along with anything you would say next. “Yes, why?”

“Would you let me do your makeup? Please? It’ll be fun and we can take it off before anyone sees and-“

“Of course princess.”

“-I wouldn’t tell-oh!”

His readiness to appease you in this way shocked you. You beamed at him and got up from your seat and ushered him towards the vanity.

In truth, Luke had no interest in having makeup on. But if it kept you smiling like that he’d wear it all day and all around camp.

Once he sat in front of the mirror, you climbed on his lap and began your artistic venture. Your breaths intermingled softly. The subtle smell of citrus floated between you. In between bouts of concentration you would catch him staring at you, and would have to bury your face in his neck in embarrassment until he coaxed you back up with promises of kisses. You had to ask him to stop staring.

He didn’t.

“Okay, close your eyes,” you instructed once you had finished your masterpiece. It honestly wasn’t your best work. Having his undivided attention with him being so close was still foreign to you and it made your hands shake.

You twisted around and dug through one of the drawers on your vanity, still refusing to leave his lap, looking for a hand mirror so he could get a close look at your handiwork.

Once you found it you got off his lap and held the mirror in front of him and counted down, “Okay three, two, one!”

Luke opened his eyes and gasped softly.

“Well what do you think?”

He laughed softly, “Well, I never thought I'd say this, but I might be a makeup convert now." He said. He started making over exaggerating kissy faces and poses which made you laugh.

But soon, he turned the tables, planting lipstick-stained kisses all over your face. Panicking, you protested, "Luke, I'll be seriously late if I have to redo my makeup!"

He grinned, "Consider this payback for all the times you covered me in lipstick kisses, princess."

[myfairstarlight]

I've started to see takes saying Colin deserves better than Penelope, and claiming she "got away with everything", and to that I must say:

Whistledown was never created out of jealousy or anger. It was born from a lonely girl who wished to be part of a society that rejected her, so she wrote about it.

Penelope never pursued Colin. This wasn't some nefarious plan of hers like that take makes it sound like. He's the one who did all the chasing. Penelope was very much planning on distancing herself from him and the Bridgertons after last season. He's the one who couldn't let her go

She literally offers the annulment knowing there might still be people angry at her for Whistledown. That's her taking accountability and absolving the Bridgertons from dealing with her mess. Guess what he does again? He refuses, fully accepting the challenges ahead. Now that's marriage. And standing by his cancelled wife.

She decides to come clean in front of the whole Ton despite everyone around her trying to find an out for her. She could have taken the easy way out, lie to get the rest of the blackmail money needed, but she refused to drag the rest of the Bridgertons into this.

"Penelope faced no consequences" she is wracked with guilt for half the season, her closest loved ones turned away from her, and she got blackmailed. This is also a romance show the queen was NOT going to behead her as punishment, actually, go watch Game of Thrones instead

She was already changing the column to be more uplifting towards women and less confrontational with the Queen (even as the other debutantes talked shit about her, and the Queen threatened her). She was aware that her previous tone in her writing may have led to more problems. She is atoning for her past mistakes already.

Really looking back the only real mistakes she made was with Marina and Eloise. These were exceptions to what she usually writes as she exposed their secrets, not gossip. That's an important distinction to make. One the show itself does not make, actually.

You can add what she wrote about Colin too as an exception, since she was being petty and angry, and she regrets it immediately

She confessed everything to Violet. Granted, we do not see the letter, but she did come clean to the head of the family (since Anthony already left, otherwise I bet she would have told him too)

The one thing I agree with is that we had no closure for the Marina situation, despite her being mentioned several times.

But overall, she was remorseful, and she tried to fix things. She reached out to Eloise several times before they reconcile, she changed her column, and she now wishes to use her column to give a voice to the voiceless, the same way Whistledown helped her find a voice.

And Colin, well, he's only ever wanted Penelope, even after the reveal. Because Penelope remains the only one who truly understood him and supported him for being himself. Meanwhile Penelope is trying to be better. That's the key word, she wants to do better, so no she does not "get away with everything" because there was never malicious intent from her in the first place, but for the damage she did do, she wants to make up for them. And yeah, she's a goddamn mess, but as he said, she is his mess.

However, Colin did deserve better, but in terms of writing and screen time especially in part 2. We were told, more than shown, about his struggles, which is a bit of a shame when compared to Penelope's (and yet people still misunderstand her character, so).

[kaiserposting]

Shidou Ryusei — Birds Born in a Cage Think Flying is an Illness

PAIRING: Shidou Ryusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 2k TYPE: Some angst (?? idk), childhood friends/neighbors, No Blue lock AU (Like it never happened...) WARNING(S): Implied child abuse on both ends, the ending is ambiguous/up to interpretation, Anxiety

A lot of people think Shidou’s hair isn’t naturally blonde.

It’s just something people have always discussed, even when you were little. Such a benign topic to interest them, the color of Shidou’s hair — yet it has always been a point of contention even when you never saw the big deal around it. Maybe because he's always stood out, be it with something unimportant like appearance or the more elusive matter of his attitude.

Shidou’s eyelashes are blonde to the root, you could've said.

Shidou was always blonde even when we were kids, you could've said.

But you never say things like this, of course, when you overhear their gossip. There are times when someone in school asks you about Shidou, since it's no secret that you are associated, and you'll answer with a meek and boring Yes, Shidou really is blonde, but won't go beyond that or intrude.

It's shitty and you're embarrassed of yourself, but the truth is, you never defend him when they make more serious, inflammatory, sometimes straight up degrading claims about him rather than merely speculating on his hair color. You don't want to impose. You don't have the confidence to speak when not spoken to. And he doesn't care about them nor about their opinions, so you can somewhat delude yourself that you're all good in your shell, that it's fine. In a sense it is this willingness to be himself while not heeding what others make of it that defines Shidou’s freedom.

Shidou’s hair isn’t bleached, but the pink streaks are. The first time he dyed it, you were both nearing junior high graduation, and he rushed upstairs to your apartment to invite you to ‘do something cool with him’.

The matter wasn't all that exciting to you, but you were afraid you'd get caught not being home if your parents were to return from work earlier than expected. There was a kind of secrecy and excitement in the adrenaline your fear caused you, and a connection in allowing Shidou to partake.

Maybe you’re the type of person who worships the problem and maybe letting Shidou in on it is like performing a ritual of closeness to you. This personality deficit persists even in the present.

You always tried to refuse him at first in these exploits because you were so, so afraid of things like air and vague concepts in your mind, but you'd cave in anyway, after some coaxing. Your fingers were shaky and you botched it, but you helped him despite the rush.

Then you ran and jumped down and almost sprained your ankle, since you wanted to retreat quickly, fearful of your parents. You cleaned all the dye off your fingers with boiling water and an excessive amount of soap once you went inside, and you spent several days afterwards thinking you were going to get caught in assisting the transgression, which never came.

Though your family torments you, the most cruel part is that they've trained your mind to continue the job whenever they are not around. When you were little at one point you thought they had installed hidden cameras in your room since they always mystically knew when you'd be up to no good, but nowadays you assume they were making things up for the sake of yelling at you and their guesses happened to be right on occasion by some absurd coincidence.

You’ve also come to understand just because they raise hell about something doesn’t necessarily mean it was wrong or immoral.

One time when you were still around seven or so, you let Shidou push you on the swing. He always used too much force, and honestly while you found it scary, you agreed every time to his proposal. What you didn’t grasp at the time was that this prevalent fear will be integral to your life.

There was such an accident where you slipped off the swing and landed straight on your face from high up.

Shidou crouched down next to you while you started crying. He assumed it was from the pain and apologized for a bit in an attempt to placate you. It took no time for your skin to get aggravated and swollen, and the recessed scratches had dirt sticking to them, and you were so upset it was uncontrollable.

After a while of histrionics, Shidou managed to calm you down somehow, at least to a degree where you could speak, and all you had to say was, “I got hurt! My parents are gonna yell at me!”

“They’re gonna yell at you for getting hurt?!” Shidou parroted back at you. The statement was absurd, even though he got it — he really did — and then he burst out laughing.

Your classmates behind you have moved on to whispering about Shidou’s makeup rather than his hair. You begin scrawling a hateful scribble on one of the pages in the middle of your notebook and think to tear it out later ‘cause your parents might find it while looking through your stuff and scold you for being an untidy degenerate.

Do people your age still deal with this kind of thing, on average? You think the answer should be no, that you’re too old, but your perception of normal is so fucked up, you can’t think it in confidence. So who knows. Maybe everyone else is hiding family shame as well, but hiding it better, like Shidou with his energy and such. You could always be victimizing yourself without basis, too.

This is your last class for today, so at least you don’t have to tolerate being at school for much longer. Your relief about this, however, doesn’t last long, since the teacher decides to return your tests earlier than expected.

When you see your mark written in red at the bottom, you want to throw up. The world caves in on you. You haven’t failed this badly in a while — are you a moron or something? You must be, to get so many questions wrong. Fuck. You’re so fucked.

You try to hold it in, but as usual your stupid body’s reactions prove overwhelming and the tears bubble up anyway. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth and stifle the noise as you shake in place. No one pays you any attention at least, so the humiliation of a breakdown isn’t too bad this time.

After the teacher dismisses you all, your sleeve brushes against your face for a hasty wipe and stand upright with weak knees. The test is still in your grip, crinkling under your fingertips. Though you do not want anyone to see you sobbing and acting pitiful, your pace is languid, trying to prolong the time before you arrive home for as long as possible.

Shidou catches up to you with ease before you can even reach the gate, swinging an arm around your shoulder. You stiffen and blink, praying the action will somehow erase your tears before he can register them even if you know it won’t.

“Aww, are you crying again?” asks Shidou, leaning in to rest his chin on your shoulder. Still, it’s not a proper embrace, and it makes walking awkward. You stumble to stop, but Shidou keeps dragging you along, in the wrong direction at that, and you go along with it.

“No.” You sniffle.

“What is this?” He releases you and plucks the paper out of your hold.

“I’m in big shit,” you tell him, despite the initial denial. “Also, I think I might have a tapeworm in place of a brain.”

It had rained while you were still inside. Now the roads are wet and your shoes feel squeaky and wet with each step. Puddles gather in the imperfections and cracks of the pavement. The sky is a bland shade of grey.

Shidou unfurls the paper and examines it with a critical eye, as a joke. “Come on, you got a three. We got those back today too and I totally failed it.”

“I’m gonna get yelled at like crazy and it needs a signature too.”

Shidou clicks his tongue. “I told you to fake it from the get go.”

“I was scared.”

“You’re always scared!”

“Are you ok with failing? Something gonna happen to you?”

“Oh yeah, I’m definitely getting hit today,” he says with a yawn. Then tears your test to shreds and shoves the pieces in his pocket and grins to himself. “I’ll glue this to a drawing later.”

His admission makes you frown, but Shidou remains in good spirits, and even picks his ear with his pinky. He doesn’t care what people will think of him, so he does things like that all the time, and despite the fights and nonsensical exclamations about viscera, he practices body mindfulness and has his own philosophies on freedom and such, and he doesn’t let anyone define his life or self for him, or influence his definitions on those concepts. In fundamentals he is different to you; Shidou stands immune to the lacanian Other that is always tormenting your psyche.

You continue your walk together, straying further and further away from your neighborhood. You’re too anxious to go home, because bad things will happen, and too anxious to stay out because the bad things will escalate to worse when you inevitably go home. So you lay stagnant and let Shidou wrap his fingers around yours and hold your hand as you walk around even though you are nervous, even though as usual with him there is no path and only a journey.

The silence pervades, interrupted only by half-conversations. You’re worried with graduation and your grades and university almost constantly, so this is what you talk about, about how your parents won’t be happy with your academic placement and how you’re planning to kill yourself before finals. Shidou, upon hearing all this, laughs and says you are a funny person.

Is he some kind of flâneur or a nonconformist in society’s eyes, you don’t know, but in your opinion Shidou is so free in a sense he cannot be bound by an identity, even if the classification is a dissentient one such as ‘misfit’.

Little by little the sun comes down, the streets and benches get dryer, while you continue your aimless stroll. You don’t even recognize what part of the city you’re in anymore, which puts you on edge, but Shidou probably does.

The wind caresses your face.

“I don’t want to go home,” you plead, even though you know that is not where you’re going. You haven’t turned around yet to be going home.

Despite your request, you also realize the longer you put off the consequences, the worse they are becoming.

“Let’s run away together,” says Shidou lightly, cheerful even, as if he is suggesting what you should have for dinner instead of something drastic and far-fetched. “I’ll take you to Miyako-jima and we’ll play football on the beach every day. And crawl around the fields. We can even go snorkeling sometimes.”

“I don’t want to snorkel.”

“Come on, you haven’t even tried it. It could be your favorite thing ever and you’d never know! You could be one with the fish! You don’t know ‘cause you don’t tryyyy.”

“Whatever, Shidou.”

“You’re my little roadside flower, so I need to relocate you.”

“I thought I was a fish to you.”

“Everyone’s many things. I don’t care too much about that kind of thing.”

“About semiotics,” you say.

“If I was a fish, I’d swim against the stream,” says Shidou, “and I want you to swim with me.”

Another bout of silence settles. The only noise you can hear is the ambience of your environment, the wind, still, all the insects that are still awake, your quickening heartbeat ringing in your ears at what he has uttered so shamelessly and thoughtlessly.

There’s a halt in your step again as you try to gather a moment to process it, but to no avail. Shidou pulls you along, and you let him, perhaps because you want to go somewhere — anywhere (with him in particular, maybe) — but do not desire the responsibility. So, you always let him wrap his hand around your wrist and tug you around. Because it is easier. Because then you are not making the decision, and you don’t want to go home, so you will not resist or dig your heels into the ground.

You continue walking in the dark. Your fingers interlace as you head toward the bus stop together.

___

Cheating on Kaiser and listening to drill music I had a lot of trouble with this and it was not cooperating with me but when does writing cooperate iwth me #Hate #Sad

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

What do you think about Baela refusing to inherit Driftmark? And about the fact that Rhaena is seemingly forgotten in the equation?

To start with, it's helpful to look at how the book handles Driftmark's succession. We know that in Fire and Blood neither Baela nor Rhaena end up inheriting Driftmark, instead, Corlys legitimizes Alyn and Addam, and eventually Alyn inherits. The show, of course, has to get to this point too, but the difference between the show and the book is that in the book, the possibility or Baela or Rhaena inheriting is never mentioned. The betrothals between Rhaenyra's sons and Daemon's daughters are made when the children are still babies, not as a some bid to get Rhaenys to support Luke as heir to Driftmark, but likely by Laena as a way to help her brother out of a difficult situation.

Now here's where it gets tricky. In the book, by the time Rhaenys dies, Corlys has had enough. Jace talks him down from his range, makes him Hand, and when Addam and Alyn's mother, Marilda comes forward claiming the boys to be Laenor's sons, and Addam's claiming of Seasmoke seems to prove it, he asks Rhaenyra to legitimize them, which she does. Now, since the boys are officially Laenor's sons, the same as Joffrey, and they are both older than Joff, this puts them ahead of Joffrey in Driftmark's line of succession. This way Corlys can change the succession without repudiating Joffrey, which is important, because if Joffrey is passed over, that's as good as declaring his bastardy. So this way Corlys gets an heir of his own blood, and Rhaenyra still saves face.

Now HotD has Rhaenys raise the possibility of Baela becoming Rhaenyra's heir back in S1, but what the show seems to have forgotten is that this was a move which would have disinherited Lucerys, effectively proclaiming him a bastard the same way the crown ruling in favor of Vaemond would have. That's why Rhaenyra was so desperate to get Rhaenys to accept the betrothals between her boys and Daemon's girls (which, in the show did not happen when the children were babies because the show kept Daemon and Laena in Pentos for ten years), which of course she does (forget for a moment that it's not really her choice who the girls marry). However, ever since that episode aired, fans have brought up the idea that Rhaenyra is usurping Baela's right to Driftmark by keeping her boys in the Velaryon line of succession, and further, that Baela should not be content with being Jace's queen, she should want Driftmark instead, as it is rightfully hers.

And on the first part-- well, yes. Putting bastards into the line of succession is a big no, unless they've been legitimized, which requires they be acknowledged as bastards in the first place. However, this isn't news to anyone. Everyone in the extended Velaryon-Daemyra family is, for the time being anyway, in on the ruse. They all treat the fact that Rhaenyra's boys are bastards as a non-issue, and so the kids are not going to be the ones to say something. Baela cannot declare her intent to inherit Driftmark without betraying people who are important to her. Some fans clearly think she should want this, that she should find it insulting to be betrothed to Jace, but that's not Baela's character. Now, granted her loyalty makes more sense in the book, where she had known Jace since they were babies, but the show is going for loyal Baela who cares for Jace, and she's not going to press the issue on her own.

So the show having Corlys offer Baela Driftmark, and then having her turn it down, seems to be a way to shut down these arguments and clear the way for Addam/Alyn by making it crystal clear that Baela doesn't want Driftmark, while keeping Corlys' own hands clean-- hey, he's not the one choosing Rhaenyra's cause and his ambition to have a Velaryon on the throne over his granddaughter, it's Baela making the choice. At the same time, this conveniently avoids the implications for Rhaenyra's succession because Corlys' offer never goes any further. Corlys cannot truly back either of the girls as heir to Driftmark without declaring Laenor's "line" through Rhaenyra illegitimate, and if he does that, he is declaring Jace illegitimate as well. He might as well declare for Aegon II at that point because he'd be effectively dooming Rhaenyra's cause. And this is, of course, why Baela and Rhaena were never considered heirs to Driftmark in the first place in the book.

As for Rhaena, we already heard Corlys tell Rhaenys he didn't consider Rhaena a suitable heir, and Rhaenys also gave her tacit approval to Alyn and Alyn as heirs. It does seem like the show is presenting them directly as Corlys' sons, rather than Laenor's, which, if they were younger than Laenor would still put them behind his "line" in the order of Driftmark's succession, but I think the show will likely avoid this issue by making at least Alyn older (which is probably why his actor is clearly a grown man, and not a teenager like in the book). All in all, Baela's line is there because the show complicated Driftmark's succession by bringing the girls into it in the first place, something that didn't happen in the book for good reasons, and they had to address the elephant in the room in order to move Addam and Alyn's plots forward. Baela and Rhaena were never going to inherit Driftmark, so the show invents a scenario which puts that question to rest for the audience without uncovering any hypocrisies within team black.

[webslingingslasher]

Hi can I get any kind of frat!peter angst, I’m such a slut for angst and something ab frat!peter makes me go feral

*cleaning out my inbox.*

'who the fuck is lauren?'

peter spins around in his desk chair, his pen stops twirling in his fingers. 'lauren?' you feel your blood pressure boil, it's one thing to be commenting and liking everything she posts, it's another to pretend he doesn't know who you're talking about.

'lauren, you know, itslaurenpeters222' it clicks, peter's got a furrow between his brows, his mouth slightly opens with recollection. instead of answering, he follows up with a question.

'why?'

you're about to kill him, for a moment, you imagine stabbing his shoulder with his pen. you don't like the question, he wants to know what you know before he admits to anything.

'just answer the fucking question, parker. who's lauren?'

'i'll tell you who she is if you tell me why you're asking.'

wrong answer. you fly off the handle, you throw your phone at him, he catches it without blinking. her page is pulled up, each photo marked with a 'liked by its.parker and others.' in some, he's even got a comment or two showing.

it's nothing incriminating to the untrained eye, but you know fuckboys and this is how it starts.

'i'm not fucking around, parker. who the fuck is she?' again, he doesn't answer. 'it's not what you think, if that's what you're asking.' you feel your brain breaking, you claim gaslighting frequently, but this time you mean it.

'if i wanted to know if you were fucking her, i would've asked that. i need to know who she is because she's the only other girl you interact with.'

peter locks your phone and attempts to hand it back, you refuse to get close to him, he tosses it to the bed as a middle ground. 'she doesn't go to school here.'

you're at your breaking point and peter doesn't realize. you tone down your anger, you're speaking calm and softly, you need him to hear how close he is to losing everything.

'peter, i need you to look at me.' steady eye contact, it's like you're trying to read a brick wall. 'i swear on everything i own, i will walk out that fucking door and never come back unless you tell me who she is right now.'

peter's antsy, he heard you loud and clear, and now he's wavering on his options. you think he's about to call your bluff, you don't care, you're a thousand percent serious and if he lets this be the downfall, so be it.

you wait for two minutes, you counted to sixty twice and peter's still chewing on his bottom lip. you have your answer, you nod with disgust, you thought he was better than this.

peter got caught red handed. you honestly never took him for a cheater, peter's a lot of things but a cheater wasn't something you ever pegged him for. it's sickening how wrong you were.

you have nothing else to say to him, you snatch your phone from his bed and whip around for the door, the second your hand wraps around the doorknob, peter clears his throat.

'i had a friend in high school. a really, really good friend and he did something that hurt me. lauren is his little sister, she's two years younger than us and goes to rutgers. it never has been, and never will be, sexual. and i don't know why i still talk to her, all she does is remind me of her brother but i don't know, it's nice to know i'm still connected to their family a little, i guess, i don't know.'

your eyes narrow on his face, it seems like he's being authentic and honest. you don't bite, yet. 'and you couldn't just tell me that?'

'i don't like talking about him.'

'and that means...'

'it means that telling you who lauren is, opens up a new door of information about myself and you'll want to pick this apart and you're gonna get hurt when i shut down and tell you we're not going to talk about it. ever.'

peter's a softie around his friends, you assume this was a best friend, and if it was high school that means peter was still a nerd. meaning, it had to be bad.

'what did he do?'

peter crosses his arms over his chest, your question proves his point. he's blocking you out, he gave you all he was going to give, it's up to you if you decide if it's enough.

'peter, c'mon, you can't just dump all that on me and expect me not to-'

'yes, yes i can. i told you i wasn't going to explain it further. you wanted to know who she was, i told you, conversation over.' peter was right, it does hurt your feelings. he never wants to open up and it's frustrating beyond belief, but peter's taught you that slow and steady wins the race.

if you badger him about this, he'll shut you out indefinitely. if you slowly poke and draw out information over the course of a few weeks, you'd have the full story. more or less, you’ll attract a bear with honey.

'that's all she is? your old friend's little sister? there's never been anything more i need to be aware of? nothing?'

peter shakes his head, the one thing you believe, it's that there wasn't anything sexual. the thought has him look like it makes him sick to picture it.

'the last time i saw her in person she was fifteen, i promise there's nothing sexual. i don't even have her number, we interact on instagram, that's it. just likes and comments, no dm's or secret phone calls. promise.'

fine. it doesn't mean you like it.

'i don't like this. i don't appreciate you all over her page.' peter takes in your words, he's listening and while his tone is gentle, he's stubborn about the topic.

'i understand that, and i appreciate you telling me that, and coming to me about this, but i'm sorry, trouble, i'm not cutting her out. if you can't handle that, i understand. but if you do, we need to get this over with now, i don't need lauren resentment coming from you down the line.'

what he's saying without saying it, is that this isn't a bargaining chip and you can't hold it over his head. the topic of lauren dies tonight, and if you have a problem with that, you need to walk away.

you point at him, you're not nearly as hot headed as you were five minutes ago. 'i don't like this.' you feel like you haven't stated it enough.

'i understand. i'd have my own qualms if the situation was reversed.'

he brought it up first. 'and if it was reversed? how'd you react to this?'

'i'd be frustrated and have my own opinion, but i'd understand that this is a person you're not ready to let go of yet, and maybe one day you will be, but you can't be forced into it and you need to make that call when you know you're ready to move on.'

it's a shitty situation, at least peter knows it. you know it'll go nowhere but you can't imagine what could've happened that made him so clammed up.

'he really fucked you up, huh?' peter's hesitant to agree, he's terrified you'll use anything as a conversation starter. 'unrepairable.' no chance of fixing it, ever.

'you swear there's nothing going on?'

'i swear. i promise it on may. i promise it on the frat, on my relationship with you, on everything in me. there's nothing between us, i promise.'

you take a deep breath in, you're going to need more than a single conversation to think about it. it makes you insecure to the ninth degree, but you're confident he's telling the truth. to give peter some benefit, she's got a boy plastered all over her page dating back from two years ago to her third most recent post.

'okay. i believe you.'

'you do?' he sounds hopeful, he hopes this means you'll move on from it. 'i do. i don't like it, i don't support it, and i'll never support it, but i believe that you're not ready to let her go yet and there's nothing romantic or sexual about it.'

'and...' you can't believe you're giving the guy you're seeing a pass on another girl. 'lauren is the only exception. if i ever see you doing this with another girl, i'll stab your pen through your neck. are we good on that?'

peter hold his hand out, 'deal.'

you're allowing this to happen. this better prove how fucking trustworthy you are, if this blows back up in your face, you'll never make the same mistake twice. if peter lies, he'll fuck everything up for every guy after him.

you step up to meet his hold, your grip is tighter than his. 'deal.' 

[padfootagain]

His Heart in Your Hands

Hi everyone! Today, we’re answering a request for my 6k event made by @jackys-stuff-blog for our dear King Caspian: “*Yikes* I need to be fast uhm... Okay, congratulations on 6k followers again, you deserve it 😊 Can I request something for king caspian with this prompt Wounded character leads to confession. Where he comes back from a journey and the reader is patches him up (she is working in the Castle) Please? Thank you 😌🥺❤️🫂 I hope it's okay like that Oh, only if you have some places for requests left”

Thank you so much for your request! I hope you like this!

Hope you all like this, tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: King Caspian x reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood and description of a wound, violence… our baby’s fighting!

Summary: Caspian comes back to Cair Paravel alive after a campaign against a neighbouring kingdom, but he’s still in a pretty bad shape. You’ve been worried sick about him, and even if you are but a servant, even if it’s not your place… you can’t help but look for him that night, just to make sure that he’s alright.

Word Count: 2950

Caspian’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

You knew that you shouldn’t be there, and yet, you couldn’t help your feet as they crossed the castle.

You were but a servant, after all, you ought to remain where you belonged. Which was anywhere but near the King. And yet…

… yet there you were, in front of the door of his private chamber, with some water and some clothes and bandages in your hands.

You had managed to convince your colleague to let you go in her stead; to have an excuse to offer the guards to let you pass and access the King’s private chambers. And she disapproved of your feelings towards the leader of your people, but she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand that you knew him. That you had spent long evenings with him, when you should have been cleaning and he should have been resting; talking, laughing, falling in love, one dreadful and yet irrevocable step at a time. A love that you had never confessed, knowing that he would not feel the same, knowing that this was impossible.

There had been rumours spreading while he was gone, talks of a terrible injury, the kind that could be lethal. Talks of his death, even. Of Caspian being hit by the sharp edge of a blade across the chest, of his blood staining the grass and making the cold ground fume. Of his eyes closing forever, of a last breath being drawn… And you refused to believe it. Even when people started to guess the name of the next King, you refused to give in. Something inside you knew that he was still out there, alive and breathing and that he would come home, eventually. Your friends called it delusion, denial. You preferred to call it instinct.

Still, when you had seen him, along with a large crowd gathered by the doors of Cair Paravel to welcome him back, you were worried. Everybody was. If he was smiling, Caspian was paler than you had ever seen him, his arm wrapped in a bandage, pain written all over his features despite his best efforts to hide it. Instead of the traditional banquet, the King had retired to his chambers as quickly as he could to rest, and rumours were starting again, claiming that his injury was worse than it seemed, that his life was still at stake, that a doctor was there constantly, that he had called for his advisors to decide on who would step next to the throne, just in case…

You had to make sure that none of these rumours were true, that he was fine. So, you imagined that trick with your colleague, convinced her to do it. And if she was supposed to give the bandages and the water to the guards, you had claimed that you had been told to bring them directly to the King. A royal order. No one could go against that. If Caspian failed to back up your story, you could be fired, or worse, sent in a dark cell for many years, but you didn’t care. Caspian and his injury were the only things on your mind.

You gathered your courage in a long intake of breath, and finally knocked on Caspian’s door.

His answer sounded distant, weaker than usual. Still, you obeyed the invitation, opened the door and walked in.

Caspian was lying in his bed, pillows set against the headboard so he could be half-seated. There were candles on his bedside table, and a warm fire in the hearth, and yet the room was dark, the inky sky shy of a moon and stars tonight. A half-eaten meal rested in a small tray by the bed, a book was set on the covers. And Caspian was there, buried under blankets, looking weak for the first time since you had met him.

Oh, you knew that he could be a gentle soul, you had talked about his weaknesses, he had showed you parts of his heart few had been lucky enough to glimpse at. But this was different. Somehow, over the course of the last year, ever since you had started speaking to him in private, Caspian had been a constant in your life. Once a week, you would sit together in the library, or in the gardens if the weather was gentle enough to allow it, and you would talk about yourselves, about what had happened in your lives while you were apart, about his worries, and your tasks, and he would complain about foreign dignitaries that drove him crazy, and you would laugh as you mocked some impolite lords and ladies. Every week for a year, you had been longing for these few hours spent with him, for his reassuring presence by your side, for the attentive ear he was lending to your unimportant life. And perhaps it was stupid, because again, you were but a servant, but during all these evenings you couldn’t help but believe him when he said that he cared, that he wanted to see you, that he was happy to spend time with you. It had been a regular meeting that had marked your life in such a way that you could not imagine living without it now.

And now, Caspian was lying in a bed, pale as sheets, beard a little overgrown, eyes so tired they seemed buried in their sockets, dark bags dug under his eyes. And for the first time, you thought that perhaps the rumours were true, that his life truly was endangered, that you could lose him for good…

“Y/N?”

He beamed up at you, a tiny bit of colour coming back to his cheeks for a moment, you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Your Majesty,” you bowed before walking closer, setting the water and clothes on a small table near the bed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, but there was no resentment in his voice, more like disbelief, a tinge of awe at the sight of you.

“I came to take care of your bandages.”

“You?”

“I… I might have insisted…”

He chuckled, but quickly winced instead, hissing as his hand flew to hold his ribs. And he looked exhausted all over again.

“I apologize… broken ribs,” he explained. “Laughing is not recommended for a few more days.”

“I am sorry, I did not mean to cause you any pain. I can come back later…”

“No!”

He held out his hand, and you had no choice but to take it.

“Please, stay,” he asked, begging, and you had never seen such desperation in his eyes before. “Please…”

“Alright, I will stay.”

He pulled you closer, gently, until you would sit by his side; and he smiled at the feeling of the mattress bending slightly under your weight.

“What happened?” you asked, suddenly conscious of the quiet in the room, a silence barely disturbed by the cracking of the fire and the lulling movement of the wind.

He gave you a reassuring smile.

“I shall be healed in a few weeks, there is no need for you to worry.”

“There are rumours…”

“I am certain that they are most interesting. When is my untimely demise supposed to occur?”

He seemed relaxed despite his tiredness, and you caught yourself smiling at his joke.

“About three days ago.”

“Dear Aslan, I am back from the dead already!”

“It would seem so. You look the part, at least.”

He tried not to laugh, and you apologized as he winced.

“I have missed this.”

“My obvious disrespect toward my King?”

“You. I have missed you.”

He blinked, and you thought he needed rest, but he asked for you to stay again, just a little longer, and you couldn’t refuse.

“You did not answer. What happened?”

Caspian shrugged.

“It was a battle, I was wounded. There is nothing else to say about it.”

Slowly, you nodded, knowing that he was avoiding your question, but letting him get away with it.

“I should change your bandage. And then, I will let you rest.”

“Do I truly look so bad?” he asked with a crooked smile, but it faltered as you averted your eyes. It was your time to avoid his question.

You helped him out of his shirt, revealing the large bandage that encircled his torso and shoulder. He had another one around his arm. Both wounds were deep cut, that had been stitched by the expert hands of a doctor. Still, as you stared at the broken flesh, at the spots of blood still on his skin, at the red line crossing his chest… you realized just as lucky he was to still be breathing.

The rumours, if exaggerated, were not unfounded either…

You got to work in silence, hands shaking as you held back tears. Because you could have lost him this time, he could have never come back home, and then you would have never been able to tell him what he meant for you. That he was everything. That you loved him with a devotion you had never guessed yourself capable of. With a love you knew could never falter…

“Y/N?”

He wrapped his hand around yours, steadying your trembling fingers. You realised, then, that you were crying.

“I am fine. It is just a wound, it will heal.”

You didn’t stop him when he guided your palm to his heart, splaying your hand across his warm chest, and your heart staggered at the contact. He made you feel the organ hidden there, beating steadily, unwaveringly.

“I am fine. I am here,” he went on, tone soothing, unbelievably warm, and it made you cry even harder, breaking all of the borders to your hearts, all the walls guarding your soul.

“I was so scared,” you admitted, voice hoarse with your cries. “I am so scared…”

“There is no reason for you to worry. It will heal. I am perfectly fine. I simply need a few days of rest, and then everything will be back to normal.”

“You could have died…”

“But I did not.”

“This time. This time, you did not. What about next time?”

“Next time, I will not die either. I will come back, and you will be here to welcome me home, just as you are here now.”

He brushed your tears away with his thumb.

“Stop crying. I cannot see you in pain.”

But you didn’t calm down, and he frowned in worry.

“Y/N, what is it? What is on your mind? What has you so upset?”

Under your palm, his heart was still beating, you could feel it run across your entire body. You would have sworn your own heart was in sync with his now.

“I am sorry,” you whispered. “I cannot help it. The way… the way I feel for you. I am sorry.”

He frowned slightly at that, but there was some hope in his eyes as well.

“I think… Seeing you like this… I cannot hold it back any longer. I just… I must let it out. Even if I know that this is impossible, and that my feelings are unrequited… and perhaps you will never want to see me again but… it hurts too much to think that you could have died without knowing.”

You were bolder than you had ever believed yourself to be capable of when you reached up to touch his cheek, fingers tickled by his beard.

“I love you,” you confessed in a breath that even you could barely hear, and yet Caspian seemed to catch it loud and clear. The way his breath caught in his throat, and his heart under your palm sped up, became erratic… all these were giving him away. “I love you, Caspian. I have loved you for a long time. And… I know that I am servant, and that I will never be more than a faithful friend to you, but… I wanted to tell you, while I have the chance. Because despite being forbidden, my feelings are earnest, and that ought to mean something… If anything, it ought to be worthy of acknowledgement, at the very least…”

You were surprised to find tears in Caspian’s eyes, some that he tried to blink away, but failed to force into disappearance. Instead, he pressed your palm harder against his chest, and his heart was beating dangerously fast now. And through his gesture, he was trying to tell you something, or rather, to show you, as words were failing him now.

But you didn’t understand, and so he cleared his throat, at long last.

“I did not think that you felt this way for me.”

“I thought I was being obvious,” you replied, a painful smile on your lips. “All of my colleagues know. They have guessed. They call me a fool for it, and they are right, of course.”

“A fool?”

“You are King, and I am a servant. There is no more foolish love as this one.”

“I highly disagree. If anything… if anything, I am happy you are letting yourself yield to such foolishness.”

You frowned at his words, afraid to understand what he meant.

He looked down for a moment, looking for the right words, it seemed, and you gave him the time he needed to start speaking. Anyway, you didn’t know what to say.

“If you are opening your heart to me, then… I reckon that I should open mine as well. I… I was hoping you would come, that I would see you today. But I was worried that you would not want to see me, so I did not ask for you to come.”

You frowned at that.

“Why would I not want to see you?”

Caspian shrugged.

“I did not think that you harboured such feelings for me. I thought… I thought I was a mere friend. You have never shown any sign that there could be more…”

“You are King, there cannot be more. Despite my feelings, I am well aware that there will never be anything more between us.”

But Caspian shook his head, capturing your gaze in the blackness of his irises.

“Y/N… I am King. I am the one making the laws, I can marry whoever I want.”

He said it like it was easy. Like it would not create rumours, create tensions with other lands, like it would not infuriate the entirety of the Lords and Ladies, like the whole of Narnia would not criticize his choice. Like it merely depended on the two of you. It seemed such a foolish view of the world, naïve, too much so for such a clever man.

“The political crisis that would follow would be disastrous.”

“Why would it be? There is nothing wrong in falling in love. There is nothing wrong in marrying the woman I love either. We have never behaved in a disrespectful way, we have never crossed any line that should have remained uncrossed. There is nothing wrong with this…”

The woman I love.

His words echoed still in your ears, in your heart as well. You could not believe them… or rather, you could not believe that they were meant for you.

“Besides, there is a very easy solution to our problem.”

“Really?”

“I can dismiss you from the castle. Then you will no longer be a servant working at Cair Paravel. And then, if you want me, I can marry you.”

You stopped breathing altogether, and Caspian seemed amused by your expression. The smile that formed on his tired features was full of fondness.

“It is funny that you blame me for being blind, when you have been just as unable to see the truth as I was. I thought, too, that I was being quite obvious.”

“You cannot be meaning that.”

But he pressed your palm tighter against the skin of his chest, so you could feel even more vividly the beating of his heart against your hand, until it felt like you were touching it, like you were holding the organ itself.

He looked at you with such intensity, the entire world around you had disappeared.

“Y/N… do you not know…? Do you not know that my heart is yours? That it has always been yours? Can you not feel it?��

He gave you a gentle smile, voice barely more than a whisper and much deeper than usual, the weight of the confession making it too hard for him to breathe.

“My heart is in the palm of your hand, where it has always belonged. It has always been yours to hold in your hands.”

It was his turn to reach for your cheek, and you leaned into his touch without noticing. When he gently pulled you down, failing strengths not allowing him to lean up to meet you, you didn’t resist. Instead, you allowed him to guide you to him, until his lips and yours were but a breath away from each other.

“I love you,” he whispered, and your heart, you thought, exploded. “Can I… Can I do this? Y/N, I have been dreaming about this for so long…”

Instead of answering, of granting him permission to finally kiss you, you were the one to close the distance between your mouths, kissing him achingly, with every bit of your worry, your love, your passion, your withheld feelings poured into him through the tender gesture. And he responded with the same strength, the same unwavering desire to hold you closer, to devour you until you were one, to show you just as much he felt for you…

You kissed for a long time, forgetting about the world, the duties, the ranks and the time that passes. And in your palm, his heart was beating.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

TF!141 hearing you sing for the first time

CoD ML

John Price

John always chimes in when you’re listening to jazzy music like Frank Sinatra’s and Michael Bublé’s.

Despite claiming otherwise, he’s guilty of giving many a home concert when he thinks you’re out the door. So more often than not, it’s you catching him singing.

John loves singing to you while slow dancing in the kitchen. The most stupid grin will break out on his lips when he does. But, honestly, can you blame him? He’s on Cloud Nine whenever you’re in his arms.

(Or balancing on his toes as he guides you through the dance)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Ghost leans against the fridge while watching you quietly sing to yourself. Usually it’s him cooking dinner, but after much debating you finally managed to convince him to let you do it (for the first time in two months).

Now, the only time Simon will allow for Ed Sheeran is when you’re singing along to his songs like this evening. Although, he also doesn’t turn off your music when you’re listening to the singer-songwriter while cleaning the house (another daily debate because he’s actually a bit of a neat freak).

He likes it better when you sing something else, however. In fact, a proud warmth spreads in his chest when he notices you’re singing along to one of the playlists he’s made for you. Sure, he doesn’t expect you to scream your lungs out during certain parts of songs by Sleep Token or Bad Omens. But he does like that you’re listening to and evidently liking the songs he likes.

It’s difficult for Simon to express himself and to communicate with you (at times). However, he’s glad he’s found a way via music.

Little do you know how much your voice comforts him, puts him at ease.

It’s his guide to you.

And he wants to hear every single note.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Gaz immediately joins you in song, phone in hand and iTunes on if he doesn’t know the lyrics. Fight me on this, but I dare to bet he kinda sounds like Pharell Williams.

Kyle flat out refuses to participate in karaoke, though. Simon knows not to pressure him any further when he does (he’s lost microphone rights after one song the first time you and the lads went), but Soap and John don’t take ‘no’ for an answer as easily. Eventually they do… after you’ve told them off for the third time. He’ll never admit it, but Kyle’s glad you come to his aid. Although, he’s not so sure the men would listen as well out in the field. Then again, he still recalls the furtive glances around the table the first time he introduced you to the task force and you asked them to come over for dinner.

He still doesn’t know how you did it, but whatever magic you worked to keep things lowkey, casual, relaxed, and civil (not a single swear word or cuss to be heard the entire night) was impressive.

To be fair, you’re always enchanting to Kyle.

And as enthralling as a siren when you sing to him

Soap McTavish

Most of the time, he’s the one initiating a veritable home concert. Or, rather, musical.

Yes, you read that right.

MUSICAL.

Johnny loves musical songs and you often catch him watching replays on YouTube of Hamilton, Phantom of the Opera, or some other show in the West End (Boys from the Blackstuff, anyone?). That being said, though, if he’s on leave, he’ll occasionally book a weekend in London for the two of you so he can drag you along to one of the many theatres. Of course, to repay the kindness, he takes you out for lunch if the show is in the early afternoon or a nice restaurant for dinner. 

Now, you tagging along is a given which wouldn’t need compensation whatsoever. Nevertheless, Johnny feels guilty about making the days down south about his passion and fun rather than yours. So the least he could do is treat you.

Though his company is already enough.

The shared moment, away from the battlefield, away from army life, seated in a theatre to immerse in a play, is enough.

Your man being Johnny McTavish rather than Soap is enough.

It’s plenty. 

[slaymitchabernathy]

Spoiled Rotten

“There you go, you look so fashionable darling.”

Coriolanus presses his ear to the bathroom doors as he listens to his girlfriend talking to what might as well constitute as her child.

Petunia.

What was supposed to be a gift, a pet, turned into an irreplaceable entity in their household. Petunia truly had Soarynn wrapped around her little claw and Coriolanus often thought it was utterly ridiculous that Soarynn was so willing to bend to Petunia’s every need.

Now did Coriolanus bend to Soarynn’s every need?

Yes, yes he did. But this is different!

And Petunia—as he so often likes to remind Soarynn—is a cat. Not a person. Not a child. The fact that she sits at the dinner table with them is ridiculous enough. But to insist on constantly brushing her and bringing her more and more toys was ridiculous in his opinion.

Still, Coriolanus knows how much Soarynn loves Petunia, despite how insistent the little beast is on making his life a living hell. It started out slowly, the cat is smart and he has to give her credit for that. She’d simply sit on his side of the bed, refuse to move off of the sofa when he wanted to sit down.

Little things. But this is psychological warfare as far as he’s concerned.

It’s been two years since he got Petunia for Soarynn and she’s only gotten more and more clever. She’ll bite holes in his socks, she’ll eat his socks. She’ll sneak into his study and kick papers off of his desk, knock down his lamp and clock.

One time she walked into his study, hopped onto his desk, and hacked up a fucking hairball right in front of him all while maintaining eye contact.

Soarynn claims she’s an angel.

Either way, Petunia is here to stay and is currently being prepared for a visit to the veterinarian. Since her last visit was quite the stressful one thanks to her eating his sock, Soarynn told him that she wanted to “mentally prepare Petunia to go back.”

Whatever that means.

He quickly backs away from the doors when hearing the sound of Soarynn’s heels clicking on the tiled floor and watches as the doors open, revealing his stunning girlfriend and Petunia who has a pink ribbon wrapped around her neck.

Coriolanus chuckles as he watches Petunia try and wiggle out of Soarynn’s hold, “Someone’s not too happy about her ribbon hmm?” Soarynn scoffs and readjusts her grip on the flailing feline, “She loves it. Don’t you Petunia?”

Coriolanus raised his eyebrows but doesn’t give any further comments on Petunia and her feelings towards the ribbons that Soarynn is so fond of making her wear. He can see a hint of nervousness in Soarynn’s eyes and he gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“Everything will be fine darling.”

Soarynn nods and forces a smile but her heart isn’t in it, “Suppose they find something wrong? Perhaps her stitches came loose?”

Coriolanus is quick to silence these worries by wrapping his strong arms around her and planting a kiss on the top of her head, “We would’ve know if her stitches came loose darling.” He doesn’t mention that Soarynn has been quite tedious about Petunia’s recovery, ensuring everything was cleaned and antibiotics were given at the proper times.

Soarynn sighs and leans her head against his chest, “I know. I…I’m being overdramatic but I just worry that they might need to keep her overnight for observation or something like that. We’ve never been apart like that before.”

I know, is what Coriolanus wants to say. Petunia has been a constant in both of their lives to the point where it was strange to not have her roaming the penthouse halls for a night.

“It’ll be fine, and after the appointment we can take her to the pet shop and get her something nice,” he suggests.

Coriolanus knows how much Soarynn loves to shop and spend money and she loves shopping for others even more than for herself. She often comes home with new clothes for him or new bows for Petunia. A visit to the pet shop is bound to make her feel better. An incentive if you will.

Soarynn perks up and lets out a small gasp, looking up at him with those startling eyes of hers, “Really? And I can buy her whatever she wants?”

Coriolanus grins down at her and nods, “Anything you want,” he promises.

꧁ ꧂

“Absolutely not.”

Coriolanus shakes his head at Soarynn who is currently holding a tiny black kitten in her hands. He sends a warning glare to the shop owner who is being no help to him in this current situation.

Soarynn pouts and Coriolanus nearly gives in but as the man of the house, he has to put his foot down. Granted he doesn’t do it often, not when it’s her. Not when it’s Soarynn, his darling girl who truly deserves the world and more.

But another cat?

He’d rather eat glass.

“Please Coryo? Petunia needs a friend,” Soarynn insists, walking towards him and Petunia who is currently in his iron grip. The kitten is awfully cute, even he can admit that. But that’s just what he’s worried about.

Petunia had been adorable as a kitten. But then she got old, smart, mean. He can’t have that again. And this kitten is a girl. Three against one just isn’t fair.

Petunia lets out a hiss and swats at the kitten who’s eyes go wide as saucers at the much larger cat. For once, Coriolanus is glad for her short temperament and her hatred towards the spotlight being stolen from her for more than five seconds.

“Petunia would feel neglected,” he tells her, “and besides, she clearly doesn’t like the kitten. I’m sure she’ll find a good home.” Petunia certainly did and clearly isn’t willing to give that up to another cat.

Soarynn sighs but nods, “Alright. I just miss when she was so tiny. Don’t you remember when we first got her?”

Coriolanus remembers clear as day how Petunia would stay up at all hours of the night, therefore making him stay up at all hours of the night. But, she had been a rather sweet kitten all things considered. And she made Soarynn so happy which was all he really wanted in the end for her.

He smiles, “I do. And I also remember you wanted to find her a new collar.” That seems to do the trick in distracting Soarynn because she gasps and nods, “Oh I did!”

Coriolanus feels rather proud of himself as he watches her return the kitten to the shop owner before coming back and collecting Petunia from his arms.

The pet shop has a rather large selection for cat collars and Soarynn has been in the market for a new one for quite some time.

He watches from a distance as Soarynn holds Petunia in her arms, almost like a child, bouncing her up and down, showing different collars to her.

She holds up a dark red collar and Petunia sniffs at it for a moment before her attention is drawn elsewhere, “You need to look like a proper Snow darling,” Soarynn tells the cat, bringing a grin to his lips.

Much can be said about how much she spoils that cat, but Soarynn has always made sure that Petunia looks as presentable as possible, always representing the Snows in a distinguished manner.

Coriolanus can’t help but wonder how she’d be with a child of theirs. Soarynn would be a wonderful mother, he knows that much for certain. But they’d have to get married first. Still, he can picture it quite clearly, a little child of theirs with blue eyes and blonde hair.

A true Snow.

And doesn’t that sound pleasant? ‘Soarynn Snow.’ It has a ring to it, he knows that for certain.

First he’ll need to secure a ring, one fit for the wife of Coriolanus Snow. He can only imagine the wedding, and Petunia is bound to be involved with that one way or another.

“Coryo?”

His girlfriend’s voice pulls him from his thoughts of the future and he looks down at a happy-looking Soarynn who is holding the red collar in her hands, “Yes my love?” Soarynn shifts her hold on Petunia which earns her an annoyed meow but Soarynn ignores it, “Don’t you think this collar is fitting for her?”

Coriolanus takes the collar into his hands and inspects it. It’s made of thick leather with fine craftsmanship if he did say so himself. A perfect collar for the cat of a Snow.

He can only imagine the clothes their children will wear one day. Soarynn is bound to have them all coordinate outfits with one another.

“It’s perfect,” he says, earning him a bright smile from Soarynn who nods in agreement, “I thought so too. Should we get her another tag engraved?”

Petunia had gone missing once, slipped out of the penthouse and explored the Capitol streets, nearly sending Soarynn into despair. In the end they found her but Coriolanus was glad that she at least always wore a collar with her information on it incase someone found her.

“Yes, let’s go do that right now.”

꧁ ꧂

Petunia Snow ꧁ ꧂ XXX-XXX-XXXX ꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus reads Petunia’s new engraved collar tag as they’re driven back home. Petunia is sound asleep in Soarynn’s arms who is sound asleep in his arms.

Both girls must be exhausted from today. Coriolanus was pleased to hear that Petunia had recovered without a hitch and that nothing was amiss with her health. Soarynn was even more relieved than he was and pressed about a million kisses to Petunia’s head.

As if the cat didn’t eat one of his socks.

Coriolanus carefully sets the collar back into its box which is next to the other two shopping bags full of things Petunia does not need but got today.

In the end he supposes that she’s cheaper than a human child, but he’ll happily pay for her things so long as it makes Soarynn happy.

Coriolanus sleeps well knowing that his future wife, future children, and…his cat, all are spoiled rotten.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[wandering-winchesters]

Please don’t shut me out.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2,607

Requested Anonymously: Could you write something using the prompt, “I know you always push people away, I just never thought you’d do it to me.” With a Dean x Reader pairing? I love your writing!! xx

Summary: The reader struggles with anxiety and depression, especially after a hunt doesn't go the way she hoped it would.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of anxiety, depression and coping mechanisms.

Note: Everyone handles anxiety & depression in different ways, I by no means think that there is a cure all. The things that I mentioned are simply things that bring me comfort. If you are struggling, please reach out.

Masterlist

—

Since I was ten years old, anxiety and depression had been my closest unwelcome friend. Although, at the time I did not know it by that name. It was the nightly stomach ache at eight o’clock sharp every night. The insomnia when my parents sent to bed at nine o’clock. My brain keeping me awake after everyone else had fallen asleep, every night. I never had many friends as a child, I kept to myself. Social anxiety not allowing me to think anyone cared enough about me to want to get to know me.

Now, as an adult, I have managed to cope with my anxiety a bit better. However, when my depression gets bad, it is still an uphill climb. A battle that I internalize as much as I can, not wanting anyone else to see the darkness within. Especially when it comes to Sam and Dean, they have enough on their plates they don’t need to worry about me on top of all of that. They don’t need to know that every hunt that I go on with them haunts me in my sleep almost every night.  The boys are an escape on their own, just being around them helps with any anxiety while I am awake. They calm me, their presence alone surrounds me with the feeling of love and protection. Not having to worry about if I am safe, when I am with them. 

I had started hunting a few years back, I was unwilling at first, dragged into it by my late father. We had run into Sam and Dean while on a witch hunt, the very same hunt that claimed my fathers life. The boys took me in after that, ignoring my refusals of their help. Insisting, that they just needed my help with one more hunt, that turned into 2, which turned into 30. Until it just became the norm. I moved into the bunker with them and took it upon myself to keep the place cleaned and stocked with food. Not something they ever asked for or expected me to do, it is just how I show my love and appreciation for the two of them. 

Today has been a difficult day, I had just gotten back from a solo hunt that I insisted on taking. Much to Sam and Dean's dismay and strong objections. However, I didn’t give them much choice, getting up early while they were still asleep and leaving in my truck. Sending them a quick text to explain where I was off to, with instructions not to worry or try to come after me. I regretted my choice, I should have brought them along. It would have made it easier to handle, made the loss a little bit easier to manage. I can still see the face of the woman I was seconds too late to save. Her eyes slowly closing, her hand gripping my arm, tears slowly running down her cheeks. I blink, bringing myself back to reality. I was parked in front of the bunker, back from the hunt. I reach up and wipe away the tears that had unknowingly fallen from my own eyes, as I was lost in my thoughts.

I open the drivers door, stepping down onto the gravel. Making quick work of grabbing my backpack and duffle from the back seat. I turn and walk towards the door, steeling myself before I walk into the bunker. Not wanting the boys to catch on to the fact that I am not doing well. I precariously balance my duffle bag on my knee as I try to unlock the door to the bunker, but instead I drop my keys.  

“Christ,” I mumble, lightly kicking my foot against the door in frustration and blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes. The door jerks open, Dean grinning at me from the other side. 

“Wow, thanks sweetheart. I knew I was great, but didn’t realize you thought I was Christ like!” He winks, reaching to take my bags from my hands. 

“I got ‘em, thanks though.” I say, rolling my eyes and pushing past him to drop my bags on the floor in front of my room. His joke, that would normally make me laugh, striking the wrong nerve. Dean still stands by the door, confusion spreading across his face. Sam glances up from his seat at the table and gives me a smile, closing the book he was reading and setting it down on the wooden surface in front of him. 

“How did the hunt go, Y/N?” Dean asks, closing the door and turning to look at me. His eyes scanning my face for any explanation for the way I had snapped at him. I sigh, and roll my shoulders out, releasing some of the tension I had been carrying between them.

“It went fine Dean, I am just tired and hungry.” I shrug, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a cold bottle of water, taking a few sips. 

“Did something happen that you need to talk about?” Sam asks, turning his attention towards Dean and myself, his eyebrows raised in concern. 

“Nope, nothing happened. Just tired.” I say, my tone growing more annoyed at having to repeat myself. I turn my back to the boys and walk towards my room, well aware of the looks that the they were giving each other. I am sure that this is not the last I will hear of this conversation. 

—

Once I got to my room and shut the door, I could feel depression creeping over me, like a storm cloud, heavy, dark and looming. I took off my jeans and t-shirt and grabbed a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt that I had stolen from Sam, it was one of the ones he had gotten while he was in college. It was warm and comforting, so I always wore it on days like today.

I turned and headed towards my bathroom, deciding a shower was the best thing to do next. I turned the water on, as hot as I could stand it and climbed in. I stood under the water at first, working my fingers through the knots in my hair that had occured over the last few days of stressful hunting. I finished washing my hair within the first few minutes of the shower, but didn't get out. I slid down onto the tile and let my head rest against the wall. I embraced the emptiness I felt, letting the hot water overwhelm my senses. I lost track of time, only getting out of the shower when the water started to turn cold. I shut it off and grabbed my towel to dry off. I ran a brush through my hair before dressing myself in the clothes that I had brought in with me.

I walked out of the bathroom and surveyed my room, messy and cluttered, but mine. I flicked the light off and shuffled across the room before flopping onto my bed, not bothering to get under the covers. 

I could hear the low tones of the boys talking in a nearby room, not enough to understand their words, but enough to know they were there. Knowing they were close by was comforting, but at this moment I just wanted to be alone. 

The familiar ache in my stomach creeps in, anxiety at its finest. The horrors of the hunt washing back over me, like a tsunami I can't outrun. I scowl, a puff of air escaping my lips as I sigh, rolling onto my side. I pick up my phone, glancing at the unread messages on the screen. 

Sam

8:07 P.M. : Hey, I don’t know if something is bothering you or not, but we're here if you need anything. Just yell.

9:45 P.M. : Dean is getting really worried, antsy even. I would at least text him back if you want to be left alone.

Dean-

8:33 P.M.: You said you were hungry, want a burger?

9:17 P.M. : You have been in the shower for over an hour, are you alive in there?

I shut off the screen, setting my phone on the table beside my bed. I close my eyes and try to sleep. However, sleep does not come. I toss and turn, the only thing I can see is her face as she takes her last breath. I can feel tears burning at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. Stupid. I was stupid to think I could have managed this on my own. It's all my fault that she's dead.

I am jerked from my thoughts by a knock on my door. I keep quiet, hoping that whoever it is they will go away. The knock sounds again, this time my door creaking open a couple of inches, enough for Dean to look through into my dark room. "If you don't want people to know you are ignoring them, you should turn your read receipts off. I know you are awake Y/N." I can hear the worry in his voice, his tone soft. As if he is speaking to a frightened animal, trying to reassure it that he isn't a threat.

"Go away Dean, I just want to be alone." I say, the unsteadiness in my voice way more evident than I wanted it to be. I bite my lip, hoping he won't notice how close to tears I really am.

"I knew you always push people away, I just never thought you’d do it to me." He says, stepping into my room and shutting the door behind him. It's dark, so I can hear him carefully making his way towards me. He chuckles as he trips over something on my floor, probably the jeans I had discarded earlier. He settles himself next to me on the other side of the bed, resting his back on the head board. I pull myself into a sitting position, hugging my legs to my chest and resting my chin on my knees. His weight shifts, and I can't tell what he is doing until the light on the bedside table clicks on. I protest, but am quickly silenced by the look that he gives me. I look away, hoping that he doesn't notice my red rimmed eyes.

"Now, you wanna tell me what happened? Or should I drag it out of you, like you know I will eventually." He asks, his hand coming to rest gently on my spine, tracing soft patterns on my skin.

I sit silent, except for the sniffles that I can't seem to stop. The tears starting to flow again. I sigh, before starting from the beginning. How I had left, the werewolves that I had encountered, the moment where I realized that I had fucked up. How scared I had felt, but that I didn't think I could call him, because I didn't want him to be mad at me. I pause after my last admission, taking a breath and clearing my throat.

"All of this, was bad enough. But then... Dean... I couldn't save her, she was too far gone by the time I got to her. If I had just been better, worked faster, If I hadn't hesitated because of fear then, she would still be here. It's all my fault, I-" The tears are streaming even harder now, leaving a trail, but quickly being replaced by another, a sob escapes me and I quickly try to cover it up, but he knows.

"Hey," He sighs, his hand squeezing the back of my neck to get my attention. When I don't look at him, his tactics change. He shifts his body around so he is sitting in front of me, he cups my chin in his hand tilting my face so his eyes can meet mine. "Stop that, right now. That thinking, is how we end up with another dead hunter. You are not at fault here, from what you told me, there was nothing anyone could have done by that point Y/N. You did your best, and that is something to stand behind." He gently tucks my hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing over my chin before bringing his hand back to his side.

My whole body is trembling at this point, my breathing shaky, muscles tense from trying to stop the unwanted movement making its way through my body. I look away from Dean once again, to wipe my tears on the sleeve of my shirt.

"I never wanted you to know this side of me Dean, that is why I pushed you away. I would've been fine in the morning." I mumble, barely loud enough for him to hear, I look at him once again, to find he's still staring back at me. His green eyes soft, yet concern is etched across his face. His brows pulled together in that all too familiar look of sympathy that I hate.

“Sweetheart, I’ve known this side of you since I first met you. I have it, Sam has it. Matter of fact if you didn’t have it, then I’d be concerned. You can’t do this line of work, without dealing with those things you mentioned. It’s normal, Y/N. You and Sam are the only things that get me out of bed some mornings, most mornings if I’m being honest.” He changes position again, moving back to my side, his arm snaking around my waist and pulling me into his side. I give in and lean against him, tucking my head under his chin. I relish this moment, the scent of his cologne hanging heavy in the air around me. The sound of his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding me in ways I didn’t think possible. Dean holds me for awhile, not breaking the silence. I just need him to hold me and even though I never asked, he knew.

“I can sleep on the couch in here tonight, keep you company.” He offers, beginning to pull away from me. I immediately feel the lack of warmth his body was providing.

“No,” I say hurriedly, watching as confusion flashes over his features. “Can you sleep here? In bed with me?” I ask, bracing myself for his refusal. What was I thinking? Of course he wouldn’t say yes, why would he want to share a bed with me? But instead of refusal, he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. He sheds his flannel, t-shirt, and pants. Before pulling the covers back on my bed and sliding under them, laying on his side facing me.

“Hurry up and get under here, Y/N.” He says, but I don’t move fast enough for his liking. Because before I can blink, he’s pulling me towards his chest and throwing the blankets on top of me. It makes me laugh, small and short, but a laugh none the less. I can feel him smiling against my neck, his lips twitching up at the corners. I turn to face him, wrapping my arms around him in a hug that I was so unknowingly desperate for. We stay like that for quite a while, in silence. His breathing evening out, I assume he’s sleeping, so when he speaks I jump ever so slightly. His grip around me tightening.

“Promise you won’t shut me out again, sweetheart? I just want to be here for you. Just like you do for me.” He whispers, pressing the lightest kiss to my forehead. I nod, raising my chin too look up at him.

“I promise.”

A/N: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!

[fountainpenguin]

"She's gonna cut my head off... but I don't caaare! They say, 'You clean up nice... Just like a dead man! Like a dead man!'" (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 42 - “Raider Reunion (Martyn, Etho, Impulse, BigB)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

“Hey, everybody! Welcome back. My name is Josh, and we’re glad to see you here. Pleasure to meet you. Mumbo; it’s been a while. Etho! I just saw your twin and niece. He’s good with kids. She’s… not.” You both know this guy? BigB tries to sneak a glance at either one of them, but the only response he gets is Mumbo’s shrug. “I’m BigB,” he tells the enderman, still focused on the man’s neck area more than on his face. “I don’t shake. I’m an illusioner underneath the moth mods; from knox ZnHeITtk HTvkH IkItn. What are you guys doing out here?” If his terse refusal to touch hands bothers Josh, he doesn’t show it. He does, however, break into a wider smile. “Well, thanks for joining us today. We’re setting up for one of my favorite games: Is There a Limit? Specifically… Is there a limit to how many people we can have waterskiing behind a dragon at the same time?” “… What’s waterskiing?”

Scott gave BigB until sunset to talk to his old raider friends. BigB didn't bring a clock.

Meanwhile, Impulse seeks help for his goo problem and Martyn breaks into Cleo's house. Just a typical day in New Star Station...

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

InTheLittleWood

Location: Approaching wool farm, North New Star Station

🖤  🌕  🖤

Are you sure you can handle this? Every twitch in Martyn’s form screams at him to voice the question. Spikes and feathers twist inside his hearts. Nostrils flare. Maybe that’s why Bdubs blurts out his words without thinking them through: because keeping a shut jaw fills a guy with alligator wriggles. Technically, the proper way to sort out this lack of faith would be to take it to the sparring ring, but Martyn can’t do that either… Not with Rosejoy’s rippling muscles a hand’s breadth from his own. Hey, she has claim on the Fox Dragon’s turf. That can’t be an accident. And if it was, then it’d be just my luck that lightning strikes her twice.

“You did all right out there,” Martyn tells her, which is less direct than asking why she challenged Impulse in the first place. You think she knew she’d lose upfront? Huh. Maybe she gets drunk on the way people talk. They’ll have gossip and clip compilations for days.

Chunky fingers tighten around his own. Martyn looks down to the wobbly eyes of a much lower-XP phantom hybrid clinging to his hand. “What about me?”

“Aww, you too, slugger. You really showed Baker what-for. All tuckered out now, are we? Yeah…”

Lucky rubs a fist across his eye. It hides a yawn, but Martyn’s hearts spring forward like rabbits when the arrows come a’flyin’. The foxes he hatched would’ve liked to eat rabbit, actually. Martyn pats Lucky behind the shoulder, but throws a glance to Rosejoy to see if she caught what just happened there. And the stare she returns, uh… answers that question pretty dang well.

Sleepy kid. His energy’s dropping fast. The portals are still down, so there’s no dodging this by jumping AFK. We need more food. If Bdubs will listen long enough to follow orders-

“Aw, Lucky’s gonna love hanging with me,” Rosejoy butts in, thwapping him with the end of her tail. She caught Martyn on the way, which was probably the point.

And you’re sure? he wants to ask again. Lucky’s a member of the New Star flock; he’s never been alone with Rosejoy before. Mental ping after mental ping fires down Martyn’s spine. Rival captain bad. Rival captain take or kill. Brrr. That’ll wake you up in the morning. That’ll give you shivers all the way ‘til bed.

“So, what’s the big guy’s story?” Rosejoy asks, moving a few steps away. The shift of her wings and the grimace of his lips paint a picture Martyn only dares to imagine from the outside looking in: Two flock captains testing one another’s boundaries; they maintain a truce ‘cuz someone outside told them so. It sure ain’t instinct keeping the rules intact. She continues, bouncing every step. “Who would mod out of being a phantom with a wingspan like that? I bet wind resistance runs from him!”

Oh, it does. The glitter in her eye ripples Martyn to his core. The swing in her tail’s a little too lax for a guest who’s got everything to lose with raiders in her home. The soft smirk’s a little too wide. She doesn’t want to lead him aboveground… Does she? Will the Lone Spruce refugees even be allowed aboveground when the coast is clear? Unsure. And Martyn wonders then, with a quickening through his hearts… whether Impulse - if offered the chance to rejoin a flock - would actually say ‘Yes.’

I mean, I don’t see any reason Scott could refuse him, right? Impulse can fly. He’s got the wings, the strength, the speed… If the phantoms get to go, why wouldn’t he?

“Ah, just medical reasons,” he says anyway, clinging tighter to Lucky’s hand. “Nice guy. Just super pent-up, if you know what I mean. I just feel sorry for his wife. He can’t target anymore, y’know? There go the love hearts.”

“He can’t hunt?”

“Lost his soul teeth. We keep him fed.” We have a system. He’s with us. So back off. He can’t ascertain from her silence whether the implication came across, printed in his tone, but at least Rosejoy doesn’t press the topic harder. Seriously, she hovered around Impulse enough back there at the squall- Did you hear the stuff she asked him?

There should be enough souls left in storage to keep Lucky going. Martyn looked through the mess with Bdubs last night. Bdubs still has a few in his soul pouch, but whether he shares is anyone’s guess. Like Hels he will, Martyn gripes, because Bdubs already made his position quite clear when he caught Cleo offering a feed: That’s the captain’s job. And he’s not the captain.

Really, though? To refuse a kid? Technically Bdubs didn’t refuse Lucky, but Martyn’s not about to ask him to share. Not before exhausting all his options. And maybe not even then.

We prep the nest. I feed the kid. Simple, simple two-step plan. And if it comes to it, there will be no asking. It’ll be a demand straight from his mouth to Bdubs’ ears. And the boss better listen up if he knows what’s good for him.

Their first stop is for more blankets from the wool farm. Last night everyone was restless, off and on the roosting platform for hours. Martyn brought out the board games and Bdubs did a little improv show - a little open mic night - but the fewer souls they’ve got on hand, the more exhausted everyone will get. What’s wrong with a little cuddle pile? Aw, roosting’s such an effort. Nobody says that, but they could! And you don’t grow up to be Martyn InTheLittleWood unless you’ve learned to be prepared.

Mumbo used to compliment me on random stuff in my inventory. Cleo too, but this is Sad Times About Mumbo right now. Martyn is trying very, very hard not to think about Cleo. Just check the moon and her AFK status if you wanna take a crack at why.

“Lucky, keep your hands behind your back. You’ll spook the villagers, remember? They’ll run.”

“Okay.”

“That’s why I wear the hoodie,” Rosejoy says, keeping back. When Martyn shoots a glance at her, debating whether to shoo her even farther off (Because let’s be real, three approaching phantoms would get anyone’s hackles up, even if they’re on foot), she just smiles. “You go on and do your thing. I’m barracking for you.”

The villagers regard Rosejoy with way too much apprehension to approach the fence. Martyn can read it in their shoulders; not even Meriwo will get close, and it’s the village headman. Martyn pulls his hoodie sleeves over his hands and hops the fence the old-fashioned way. He can’t speak the villager language and New Star’s mobs sure as hell aren’t sparked, but he’ll find a way. He’ll use bold gestures with his arms.

“Oh, this’d be so much easier if they didn’t scramble off when they see sign language.” Or if I had BigB and Cleo out here.

❤️ Read on AO3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, abuse/violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

The week passes in an exhausting haze. Johnny’s alarm rings hours before your own and his habit of snoozing several times has you up far too early. You make his coffee as he gets ready, coming out in his uniform to claim the waiting thermos and his packed lunch. He gives you a kiss on the cheek as his lingering displeasure keeps him from meeting your lips.

One night out and your whole week is ruined. It feels like you’re working from behind, trying to catch up with everything. You message the twins about Johnny’s moods but they only reply with their usual nonchalance. They just tell you again he’s a selfish asshole, leaving you to dwell on the rift alone.

Despite his agitation, he keeps his routine. He comes home, eats the dinner you cook him, sits around as you tidy up, and sleeps in the same bed, touching you until you give in and let him get off. Some nights, you’re already half asleep. And after, he rolls over and snores.

Friday comes and so does another invitation from the twins. You offer drinks at a restaurant but refuse to go back to the club. They call you boring so you tell them to have fun. You could use a break, from everyone; from work, from home, from your friends.

You take the long way home and stop at a small cafe along the way. You’ve never been there before. You miss the times when you used to do new things. You get a lavender lemonade and a half-dozen salted caramel cookies.

You drive home as dread rises in your stomach. You hope Johnny is over it. You just want to have a nice weekend. You park and head upstairs, yawning as you juggle your armful and let yourself into the apartment.

Johnny’s shoes are beside the mat. You put your lemonade and the cookies on the small table beside the coat rack and move them. You take off your own as you hear him and before you can react, the lemonade and ice are dripping down your front. You gasp at the cold cascade across your face as Johnny flings the empty cup against your chest.

“You fucking liar,” he snarls as you stand dumbfounded.

“What–”

“What?!” He snaps, “why don’t you tell me what?” He stomps backwards and grabs a box off the counter that looks into the front room, “what is this?”

He throws the box and you swat it away before it can hit you in the face. It bounces onto the floor and you bend to pick it up. The lid is halfway off and gives a peak of bright red tissue paper. You peek inside and see an ivory corset with strings of pearls across the bodice. You don’t understand.

“I don’t know what this is?” You say as you stand straight.

“No? How about this?” He takes a small card and whips it from between two fingers.

It lands on the floor and you sigh as you retrieve it, reading the inside in horror. A time and place. Signed simply, L. Fucker.

“I don’t know, Johnny, please–”

“Oh, don’t fucking lie,” he growls, “I’m not stupid.”

“Really, I don’t know–”

“I work twelves all week and I get home to find out my girlfriend’s a slut. Now you’re lie to my face–”

You feel like you’ve been slapped. You squeeze the box and hurl it onto the floor. A swell of fatigue and rage storm inside you. You can’t do it. Nothing you do is right, nothing you say is his truth.

“I work hard too. I come home and I cook and I clean. I do everything around here, Johnny, and all you do is bitch at me. And I tell you the truth and you still don’t believe me. I don’t have the time to cheat. All my time and energy is spent on being your mother!”

You kick the box towards him as he blusters and sputters in fury.

“I pay the rent, I give you everything you need,” he barks as he comes closer, “I settled for you and you are just another lying whore–”

He backs you up against the door as he postures over you. You put your hands up to keep him at bay and he shoves your arms aside. He slams his fist on the door beside your head and leans in.

“You can get the fuck out. Now.”

“Johnny, please, I didn’t… I didn’t do anything.”

“Stop lying!” He spits.

“I’m not lying, I swear–”

“Not lying. Not–”

He punches the door again and you cower, hands clutched over your chest. He backs away and grabs his phone off the couch. He stomps back towards you and unlocks his phone.

“I saw the twins’ story,” he flips the screen towards you, showing the video of Serena as she makes a fishy face at the camera. Over her shoulder, you're blotting away the spilled gin from that man’s chest. It looks a lot more salacious than it was.

“He spilled his drink. I was just–”

“You were just what?” He whips the phone at you and you back away, deflecting it with your hand. The impact makes your palm sting. “You fucking lied. You’re still fucking lying.”

He bears down on you. You tremble as the anger radiates from him. He raises his hand and you close your eyes as his knuckles crack across your cheek. You stumble back and hit the door, sinking down in disbelief as you cradle your face. You use your other arm to shield yourself, sniffling as you wait for the next blow.

Silence. Stillness. You peek up from beneath your arm as Johnny stares at you. His lower lips quivers and he backs up, shaking his head. 

“You made me– I’m sorry—”

You gulp and shakily plant your foot, then the other, bracing the wall as you rise. Your heart beats wildly behind your ears. You don’t know what to do but you know you can’t stay. You swipe up your purse as you twist the handly blindly with your other hand.

“Wait, I’m sorry, babe, we can talk–”

You don’t answer. You swiftly pull the door between you and shudder. Your eyes flow over and the tears roll down your cheeks. Your whole life is wrapped up in Johnny and now it’s in shambles. All because you were nice to the wrong man.